Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stede and Ed’s first few days as innkeepers are so busy that they barely have time to breathe, let alone take a moment to make plans beyond the next few hours. It takes them a full day just to clear out all the various nests, cobwebs, and animal carcasses alone. From there, they move from one immediate need to another. Day two is spent tracking down a freshwater source and day three is spent figuring out how they’re going to feed themselves in the long term. It isn’t until day four, after they’ve found the river and a few bushes of berries that Stede’s certain won’t kill them and a fishing spot with a large enough fish population that even a fisherman with a track record as spotty as Ed’s can manage, that they’re able to finally able to stop and consider the inn itself. 

They wake up curled around each on their tiny straw mattress on the floor, wrapped up in a soft blanket - one of the few things they brought with them from the Revenge. They both know the other is awake, but they take a few moments to just breathe together, watching the beams of sunlight start to peak through the windows.

Stede is the first to break the silence, saying “Well, darling, what adventure shall we go on today?”

Ed snuffles against his shoulder with a huff before meeting Stede’s gaze with a sleepy eyed look. “I don’t know,” he replies, his lips turning down into a small frown. “There’s so much to do. I’m not even sure where to start. Or what I even want it to ultimately turn into.”

Stede brings a hand up to cup Ed’s cheek, running a gentle finger over the corner of his mouth, trying to ease his frown away. “That’s okay. We’ll take it one day at a time.” Stede whispers soothingly. “You’re the most creative person I know. Once we get started, I know it’ll come to you.”

Ed’s lips do quirk up at Stede’s reply and, to Stede’s delight, he can visibly see some of the tension seep out of Ed. 

“We’ll do it together, yeah?” Ed says. “You and me. It’ll be our joint vision.”

It’s such a simple sentiment but it warms Stede's heart to hear it nonetheless. It’s a reminder that they’re a team, that Ed values his opinion, and that he wants this to be something they build together. Stede nods in reply and leans in to seal his agreement with a kiss that Ed returns without hesitation. 

The straw mattress is far from comfortable and has a slight, inescapable mildewy smell. They have holes in their roof and wood rot in their floors. There isn’t a single windowpane that isn’t cracked or broken. 

And yet, Stede can’t think of a single time in his life that he’s felt more content than he does right in this moment. After everything they’ve been through, it’s enough to just be here with Ed. The rest they’ll figure out. Together. 

Stede pulls away with a happy sigh, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from Ed’s face. He’s about to suggest starting to put together a to-do list when their quiet, gentle morning is quickly interrupted by a sharp snapping noise. They jump apart just in time to realize, with wide-eyed shock, that the snapping noise came from a large support beam at the other end of the room finally giving in to years of neglect and snapping clean in two. They barely have time to pull their feet back before the piece of the roof that the beam had been holding up collapses inward and lands in a pile at the foot of their bed. 

For a moment they’re so shocked that they don’t even move. They just look at the pile of rotten wood that had just barely missed them in stunned silence. But eventually, the shock wears off, and after quickly looking each other over for any injuries, they can’t help but dissolve into a fit of relieved laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Well,” Stede manages between giggles, looking up at the giant gaping hole above them, “I think we’ve found our first project!”

…

While the inn may be the one that they ultimately decided on, it isn’t the only structure on the island they now call home. They came across three other cottages in their search for food and water over the past few days. They’re all just as abandoned and dilapidated as the inn is, but Stede and Ed are able to find enough salvageable wood and nails to start their repairs between the three of them. 

It doesn’t take long for Stede to realize that he is woefully lacking in his skills as a repairman, especially in comparison to Ed. Replacing the beams had required some muscle but it had been straightforward enough. However, now that they’re up on the roof, hammering in tile after tile, Stede can’t help but look between Ed’s neat line of tiles hammered tidily into place beside his own crooked tiles with bent nails with a frown. 

“I’m afraid I’m messing this all up,” he admits, tossing his hammer aside with a huff. 

Ed looks up from his own work and glances over at Stede’s. Stede’s gut twists at the thought of disappointing him and mentally prepares for Ed’s face to fall. Instead, Ed gives him an encouraging smile. “You’re doing great, babe,” he says. “If you want the nails to go in smoother, you have to do it like this.” 

He takes Stede’s hand in his and shows him how to hold the hammer correctly, with all the gentle patience in the world and none of the judgment. Stede’s spent his entire life feeling like a complete failure at everything he’s ever tried. But whether it be sword fighting or wild escape plans or his captain’s voice, Ed’s always made it seem like Stede could do anything.

Stede’s overcome with a swell of affection so strong that he doesn’t even fully take in what Ed is trying to teach him. All he can manage to process is the loss he feels when Ed moves away with one last encouraging murmur and goes back to his own side of the roof. 

“And how did you get to be so good at this out on the open seas?” Stede asks, happy to procrastinate in favor of talking to Ed some more. The view of the muscles in Ed’s arms working as he hammers away is way more interesting anyway. “Have you had a secret second career as a roofer this entire time?”

Stede delights in the laugh he gets in return. It warms him down to his toes.

“I wasn’t always a captain, you know,” Ed replies, laughter still curling around his words. “I spent a good decade of my life taking orders. Lots of time spent repairing ships.”

It’s a good reminder of how little time they’ve actually spent together in the grand scheme of things. They’ve talked about so much and there are still years and years of memories and stories left to share. Stede tries to imagine a younger version of Ed with jet black hair and fewer tattoos. He’s sure that he was just as dashing and handsome as he is now. He thinks back to the younger version of himself too, gangly and awkward, and frowns at the memory.

“Yes, well, I must confess that I never spent much time doing anything too labor intensive before I left to become a pirate,” Stede says, trying to tamp down on inadequacy the confession dredges up alongside it. 

“And look at you now, building roofs like a pro,” Ed says. Stede starts to roll his eyes and voice his disagreement, but Ed interrupts him before he can get a word out. 

“You are!” Ed says brightly, leaning over to playfully poke Stede in the ribs. “Even though you’re starting to slack off.” He gestures to his own side of the roof in comparison to Stede’s with an arched brow. “Looks like I’m going to win.”

“Since when is this a race?” Stede asks, bristling, even though he finds himself picking the hammer back up even at the slightest mention of competition.

“Always has been,” Ed quips lightly. “You just weren’t paying attention. So now I’m going to win and you’re going to spend all morning tomorrow feeding me breakfast in bed and giving me kisses.”

Stede squawks in protest at the implication that he’s already lost and immediately lays down a tile, spurred on to win just for the sake of winning, even though the consequences of losing that Ed’s outlined hardly seem like a loss. 

Stede pushes aside the temptation to go as quickly as possible for the sake of competition and tries his best to remember what Ed told him to do, despite only half paying attention. He adjusts his grip based on what he can recall and tries again. When he looks down at his handiwork, he’s proud to see that it’s much improved compared to his previous tiles. 

He doesn’t know what prompts him to say what he does next. Maybe it’s the sudden surge of pride over the tiles, or the adrenaline rush from the competition, or even the deep sense of safety he feels from just being in Ed’s presence. But before he is even aware he’s doing it, his mouth is opening and he’s saying “My father did try to get me into more physical pursuits despite the fact that I was always rather bookish. He would drag me around the estate for hours and hours talking about how I was weak and saying that I needed to learn to be a real man.” 

Stede pauses for a moment, swinging his hammer up in a wide arc. He doesn’t even register that Ed’s own hammering, which had kicked up a notch once the competitive element had been introduced, has slowed to a stop. 

“He slaughtered a goose in front of me once,” Stede says. His voice stays steady, but he brings the hammer down a bit more forcefully than he had before. “I couldn’t have been more than seven or eight.”

There’s an ache in his gut as he says it, a physical manifestation of a painful memory that he’s never quite recovered from. But he still doesn’t look away from the task at hand, already reaching for another tile.

Ed’s hand reaches out from across the roof and curls around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Stede snaps his face up to meet Ed’s gaze in response and nearly falls off the roof at the expression he finds there. He looks at Stede with wide, wet eyes that hold just as much sorrow as they do affection.  

“Stede, that’s fucked up,” Ed tells him, voice strong with conviction. “That’s so fucked. He shouldn’t have done that to you.”

The ache in his belly only becomes sharper at Ed’s works and his immediate, knee jerk reaction is the same as it’s always been. No one cares. Hide. Bottle it up. Put on a smile.  

Stede shakes his head and tries his best to affect an air of nonchalance as he says, “Oh it was nothing, really,” waving Ed off. “Besides, I have no business talking to you about shitty fathers.”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. 

Stede’s expecting Ed to agree, to move on, to go back to their silly little competition. Instead, his gaze only becomes infinitely sadder and Stede feels a wave of shame crash over him for even opening his mouth that is so strong that he has to look away. 

But Ed does not have any of it. His hand lets go of Stede’s wrist only to bring it up to Stede’s cheek, gently raising his face back up so that Ed can look him in the eye as he says, “Having my own shitty father doesn’t make my heart ache any less for your own experiences. You deserved better than that.” Ed’s finger brushes so gently over his jaw as he says it, so much so that Stede nearly starts to cry. “You are so wonderful in so many different ways, Stede. I’m sorry he didn’t see that.”

Stede knows that Ed loves him. He knows Ed loves him like he knows that the sky is blue and that water is wet and that fire is hot. But sometimes Ed reminds him in a way that completely takes his breath away and reframes something he thought to be true for his entire existence. Before Ed, no one had ever made Stede feel like anything but a nuisance. And it had gone on for so long and had been repeated by so many people, that somewhere along the line it had become one of the fundamental truths of Stede’s life. 

But Ed doesn’t think that’s true. Ed encourages him. Ed thinks he’s wonderful. Ed thinks those people were all wrong. 

He flings his arms around Ed with such force that a few tiles and nails slide right off the roof and onto the ground below. Stede is filled with such affection that he can’t really find it in himself to care. And neither, it seems, does Ed as he returns Stede’s embrace just as fiercely. 

“I love you so much,” Stede whispers, burying his head into the crook of Ed’s neck. Ed just holds him tighter. 

They lose track of time for a while just holding each other. When Stede finally feels like he isn’t about to burst apart at the seams, he pulls away and shoots Ed a cheeky, tentative smile. 

“Does this mean that I win then?” Stede asks. 

Ed returns his smile with a grin of his own before casting his eyes to the side to look down at their work. He pretends to evaluate the tiles, even going through the trouble of miming out carefully measuring each side until he gets a laugh out of Stede. 

Ed’s clearly tiled more of the roof. And yet he says, “I guess we can call it a draw and split the prize,” with a feigned put upon sigh.

“I think I can live with that,” Stede says, heart full, as he pulls Ed in to get a head start on those kisses. 

…

Once the roof is fixed, fixing the rotten floorboards and patching up the walls comes easily. Part of it is because they’re getting better at repair work, but the other part is that they’re getting better at working together. 

They’ve always been a great team. But this is different. With every new project, they learn new ways to communicate with each other and by the time the inn’s gotten to a place where all the major structural issues have been fixed, they work together like a well-oiled machine. 

“Well,” Ed says, taking in the freshly polished floors and smooth, bare walls from his place beside Stede. They still don’t have any furniture other than their mattress but, for now, they’re happy to sit on the floor knowing that it won’t collapse beneath them. “We did it. It’s got whole walls and everything.”

“I think we’re basically carpenters now,” Stede says, nodding along. “Another skill set for the resume! Leadership experience, proficiency in fuckery planning, advanced treasure hunting skills, knowledge of roofing, and now carpentry! We’re top candidates.”

“You know, you are so right,” Ed agrees, patting Stede’s knee where it brushes up against his on the floor. “Too bad they couldn’t afford us. We’d be excellent additions to the team.”

“So true,” Stede agrees, though his mind is already starting to wander. Now that the inn finally looks like an actual functional building instead of a ramshackle hut, the possibilities as far as design layout and décor seem endless. 

Seemingly reading his mind, Ed says, “It’s a bit bare though now, isn’t it? Kind of boring.”

“Not boring!” Stede protests, turning to look at Ed straight on. “Just fresh and new. Like a blank canvas.”

“I love that,” Ed replies, scooting over to lean closer into Stede. “What shall we paint then?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stede says, humming as his mind buzzes with all the possibilities. “What vibe are we going for? Boho-chic? Quaint country farmhouse? Modern Coastal?”

Stede can tell by the way Ed’s face screwed up in varying expressions of distaste at each suggestion that he isn’t a fan of any of those ideas. Even so, he still isn’t prepared for Ed’s answer when he says, “I’m not sure that I’m really into any of those things really. I just want it to be somewhere warm, you know? Somewhere happy and cozy. Somewhere people want to be.” Ed pauses to meet Stede’s gaze. “Is that stupid?”

“No, love,” Stede says softly. “That doesn’t sound stupid. In fact, I think that sounds absolutely perfect.”

They take a moment to grin goofily at each other, delirious and lovesick, just because they can. Stede’s just contemplating kissing Ed about it when they’re interrupted by a loud squawking noise from the window that causes them to jump apart. 

They both turn towards the source of the noise to find a seagull staring at them from the window frame of one of their most badly damaged windows. Almost all the glass is gone except for a small, jagged piece barely hanging on in the upper right-hand corner. 

“Buttons!” Ed exclaims, waving happily at the bird as it continues to stare at them intently. “Glad to see that you could make it out to visit us!”

“Are you sure that’s Buttons, dear?” Stede asks, skeptical. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Ed when he says that he witnessed Buttons turning into a bird. But how do you tell the difference between a bird that’s your old friend and a bird that’s looking for food and has managed to waltz right in because your inn has no windowpanes?

“Pretty sure!” Ed says emphatically. “I mean, look at him! Buttons, it’s you, right?”

The bird responds by screeching so loudly that both Ed and Stede end up clapping their hands over their ears in a desperate attempt to save their ear drums. After his aural assault, the bird only spares them one more glance before abruptly turning around and flying away.

Ed hisses out a curse, rubbing at his ears as Stede gets up and finds a spare sheet to throw over the window for the night just in case they have any more avian visitors. 

“I think glass for our windows just shot up to the top of our shopping list,” Stede says dryly as he tucks the sheet around the window frame.

“Agreed,” Ed replies. “We’ll take a trip out to San Salvador tomorrow. We can take the dinghy over and ask around about some glass. And maybe see if we can find some paint too?”

Stede agrees and they start chatting about what time they want to try and get up and if they want to eat breakfast here or have a nice breakfast out once they get to San Salvador – little domestic choices and plans for their day together. 

Stede offers Ed a hand to help get up off the floor and his mind begins to wander, considering all the possible paint colors they could choose from. As Ed wraps his arm around Stede’s waist and they start to move towards their bedroom to get ready for bed, Stede comes to the sudden realization that there’s a gap in his knowledge.

“Ed,” he says, pulling the other man close. “What’s your favorite color?”

Ed takes a moment to think through his answer, humming thoughtfully as they continue to meander through the doorway leading into their room. By the time they make it over to their straw mattress and Stede turns away from him to grab their nightclothes, Ed has his answer. 

“Pink,” he says. 

“Really?” Stede asks, surprised. “I would’ve thought you’d say purple. Or maybe a deep blue. You’ve always struck me as a jewel tones sort of guy.”

Ed shrugs as he takes the bundle of clothes Stede’s holding out with a murmured thank you. They both begin their now well practiced routine of changing for bed together without another word, reaching out to help undo various snaps and buttons out of habit alone. 

“Those colors are cool too,” Ed says, reaching out to help undo one of the laces across Stede’s neck that always manages to get impossibly knotted by the end of the day. “But you know that golden shade of pink at sunset when the water starts to look all purpley? Can’t beat that.”

Stede concedes that Ed does have a point and tries to help Ed along with his unknotting. Ed just tuts and chases Stede’s hands away with a quick brushing motion. “Let me do it,” Ed tsks, more focused than ever at the task at hand. “How about you? What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” Stede replies, without hesitation. He continues on, tucking his chin to his chest to watch Ed’s fingers work as he speaks. “Always has been, even when I was a child. Particularly sky blue. I spent a lot of time outside on my own when I was younger. You know that shade of blue on a perfect, cloudless day? I always knew it was going to be a good day when the sky looked like that. Perfect reading weather.”

Ed’s been quite focused on the task at hand, so Stede is pretty sure that he’d only been half listening. But when Stede finally raises his face from his chest, he finds Ed already looking at him with an impossibly fond, soft look. 

“What?” Stede asks, completely lost as to what he could’ve said to earn himself such a sweet expression. 

“Perfect reading weather, huh?” Ed replies, slightly teasing most mostly overwhelmingly affectionate. 

“Yeah!” Stede days defensively. “When it’s sunny and bright out, with just enough of a breeze to be comfortable but not so much of a breeze that the pages get blown about. Perfect reading weather!”

Ed’s smile only grows with Stede’s passionate defense, but he doesn’t push the topic any further. Instead, he just says, “Oh, of course. How could I not have known?” 

With one last pull, the knot is finally undone and they finish the rest of their bedtime routine in comfortable silence before curling up together under the covers. 

Stede is nearly asleep, right on the hazy cusp between wakefulness and slumber, when he just barely catches Ed’s muted chuckle. He can feel the rumble against his side from where Ed’s chest is pressed against him. His laugh is quickly followed by a muttered Reading weather and quick kiss to Stede’s shoulder. 

If Stede was more awake, he’d probably rise to the defense of reading weather again. But they have a long day ahead and he’s so perfectly warm and comfortable at the moment that he can’t summon the energy to even crack open an eyelid. There’s always tomorrow. 

 So, he chooses to sleep instead and in the final moments before he finally slips off, he hears one more muttered response spoken against his shoulder. 

Never change, love.

…

After several weeks in their new home without anyone else’s company but their own, San Salvador is almost too overwhelming with all its hustle and bustle. From the moment Stede and Ed pull their dinghy up onto the sand, they’re immediately assaulted by a million different sights and sounds as people walk to and fro selling their wares. It’s a striking reminder of what a little bubble they’ve been living in. 

But, despite the change of pace, their trip is quite the success. Within a couple of hours of being there, they manage to secure all the pieces of glass they need for their windows, several shades of paint and brushes, a few yards of fabric and some thread to make fresh clothes and curtains out of, and some medical supplies they need to fill up their first aid kit. 

While there are quite a few other stalls that catch their attention, filled with knick knacks and furniture, they’re limited by both the size of the dinghy and the amount of funds they brought with them from the Revenge. 

So, it’s with one final wistful look at a plush settee with an elegantly carved wooden back, that they decide to move on and make one final stop to pick up a few grocery items that they’re running low on. They pick up some practical basics like dried fruit, beans, and spices along with a not-so-practical but equally important amount of marmalade and honey. 

Ed hasn’t left Stede’s side for a moment throughout their shopping trip and has answered every question Stede’s asked but Stede’s noticed his gaze wandering over to the same basket at the opposite end of the shop several times.

Stede keeps waiting to see if Ed will pipe up and say what’s caught his attention, but he keeps his mouth stubbornly shut. Stede’s willing to let it go if Ed doesn’t want to bring it up but after the fifth time Stede catches Ed looking at the same basket, curiosity gets the better of him and he ends up steering the two of them that way. 

“What’s over here that has you so interested?” Stede asks as they walk up to the basket. 

Ed looks uncharacteristically bashful as they approach, and it only makes Stede’s curiosity burn brighter. “Oh, it’s nothing,” Ed says, brushing him off. “It’s dumb. We should probably just pay for the rest of this and go home.”

“Nonsense,” Stede says. “If it interests you this much it isn’t dumb.”

Stede can see that Ed’s gearing up to protest again but by the time he’s opened his mouth to speak, they’ve already stopped in front of the basket and Stede can finally see what Ed’s so taken with. 

Stede doesn’t know what he was expecting to find but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. He looks down and takes in the basket full of brown, unmarked sachets. Above the basket is a small sign that reads Assorted Seeds, Buy One Get One Free. 

“Seeds?” Stede asks, gently probing. 

“Yeah,” Ed replies with a shrug. He’s trying to act nonchalant, like he doesn’t care about it, but Stede can recognize the spark in Ed’s eye when he’s already ten steps into a plan. “You know about plant and foliage stuff. And it’s probably smart to start trying to grow our own food. I know it’s kind of dumb because I don’t know anything about gardening, but I don’t know…” Ed trails off for a minute, suddenly bashful again. “I just think it would be a nice thing for us to do. Together.”

Stede doesn’t know what kind of plants these seeds will grow into. He doesn’t know if the soil by their inn can sustain a garden. He doesn’t want to let Ed down. 

But Stede can’t deny Ed much of anything any time and he especially can’t fathom it when Ed is being so sweet. Above that, Stede can’t resist the allure of a new adventure with Ed, however mundane. 

Maybe it’ll be the most verdant and lush garden in the western hemisphere. Or maybe it’ll completely fail, and they won’t be able to grow a single thing. But at least they’ll do it together. 

“I think that sounds wonderful,” Stede says, already scooping the seed packets into their bag along with their other purchases. “And who can resist a sale?”

He’s rewarded with a wide, happy grin from Ed. It’s Stede’s favorite kind - the one that’s so big that his eyes crinkle and the apples of his cheeks flush. 

“Hell yeah, babe,” Ed says, joining in on scooping as many seeds into their bag that can fit. “Let’s plant a garden.”

…

Painting the inn is a process. Even though they’ve managed to completely rebuild the roof, walls, and floor without major injury, painting without getting more paint on themselves than they get on the walls seems to be near impossible for them to accomplish. 

They start first thing in the morning with the interior walls and after much debate they decide on a combination of green shades with white for the trim around the doorways and windows. Despite several missteps - including several globs of paint seeping through the sheets they’ve laid down and onto the floor, and one particularly disastrous moment that involved accidentally knocking over their jar of paint - they’ve finished the interior by the early afternoon and quickly leave their seafoam, sage, and mint-colored walls to dry as they move on to the exterior walls. 

While there had been some debate over what color to paint the inside of the inn, they had agreed on a plan for the outside immediately.

They start with a blue shade, Stede’s favorite, right at the top of the wall where it meets the roof. It takes a lot of coordination, leaning on each other, and hoping that their wobbly step stool doesn’t give out on them but eventually they have a band of blue across the top third of the inn. Next, they add a hazy lavender shade, a soft transition from blue to purple. Then, to finish it off, they paint the bottom third of the wall a peachy, golden shade of pink.

By the time the actual sun starts to sink below the sea in front of them, they have their own personal sunset painted – a comforting and pretty collection of blues, purples, and pinks combined just for them.

They share a quick, triumphant kiss when they realize that they’re done, successfully smearing even more paint on each other. They’re past caring about it at this point but do note they should probably get some rags and go down to the shore to start getting cleaned up before it gets much darker. 

They part ways with Stede promising to collect all the empty paint jars and brushes and meet Ed down at the beach. However, Stede only makes it about ten steps around the circumference of the house before getting thoroughly distracted from his mission by the sight of their new garden. 

Ed had insisted on starting the garden before any other project, practically vibrating with excitement over it. So, they had spent the past few days weeding and tilling a small patch of land beside the inn and then lovingly planting the seeds and watering them. 

While Stede had enjoyed the process and was excited to see how their garden would turn out, he had nothing on Ed. Despite the fear he’d expressed in San Salvador, Ed had taken to gardening like a fish to water. He had woken up early the past two days to make sure to water the plants before the sun was too high in the sky. Stede had even caught him speaking to the plants the other morning as he watered them, gently encouraging them to grow big and strong. It was incredibly sweet and Stede hadn’t been surprised at all when he had wandered outside the day prior to find Ed building a little picket fence around the border of the garden with the leftover wood and nails from their other projects. 

Now, holding two half empty jars of paint, Stede is suddenly struck by how plain the fence looks in comparison to the brightly painted inn. He knows he should hurry and that he shouldn’t waste the last remaining bit of daylight. But he can’t help but feel compelled to paint it. To make something pretty for Ed and their garden. 

So, before he can second guess himself, Stede steps forward and gets to work. He paints and paints, even after the sun has finally fully set and the only light he has left to paint by is the soft glow of the lantern on their front porch, and by the time he’s done he can’t find it in himself to feel anything but proud of his creation. He takes a moment to take in the alternating green and white slats before finally turning away to go and track down Ed. 

He doesn’t have to go far. He finds Ed immediately – he’s sitting on their front porch, surrounded by empty paint jars, and just as covered in paint as he was when Stede left him. He’s got something in his lap that he’s looking down at, but he perks up quickly as Stede approaches. 

“Sorry,” Stede says. “I know we had a plan to go get cleaned up but once I got the idea in my head to paint the fence, I couldn’t make myself stop.”

“That’s okay,” Ed replies, eyes glowing bright in the flickering lantern light. “When I came out here and saw how in the zone you were, I didn’t want to interrupt you.” He pauses to nod towards the fence. “It looks great by the way.”

Stede preens at Ed’s comment, accepting the praise with a gentle thank you. He can’t help the happy smile that spreads across his face at Ed’s approval. 

“And what’s that?” Stede asks, pointing towards the object in Ed’s lap. 

“A finishing touch!” Ed replies, standing and picking the item up to reveal that it’s a wooden sign fashioned out of some pieces of wood from the ceiling that were too broken to reuse.

“If you hate it, we can always change it,” Ed continues. “But I thought that an inn as lovely as this deserved a name so…” He turns the sign around with a flourish and a little ‘Ta-da!’ to reveal the name he’s chosen. 

It feels like it’s been a million years since that boat party. The night that Stede had so carefully tucked that bit of red cloth into Ed’s vest pocket, his chest so full of emotions he didn’t quite fully understand. It feels like a million years ago and yet Stede can remember how big and bright and lovely Ed’s eyes were in the moonlight like it was yesterday. 

The sign reads Jeff and Godfrey’s Inn by the Sea and Stede thinks it’s perfect. 

Stede tells Ed as much and they don’t waste a single moment more before they’re nailing it into the wall beside their front door. 

It’s too late to go down to the shore now so they make do with scrubbing clean with some rags and whatever water is leftover in the washroom basin. Stede still has crusty, dried paint under his fingernails as they lay down to sleep. And yet, he doesn’t feel anything except completely and utterly content.

…

“Stede, get up!” 

The words rouse Stede from his sleep quickly even though Ed doesn’t sound particularly panicked. He cracks an eye open to confirm that Ed is in one piece and is delighted to see the opposite. Ed is practically glowing with excitement, shaking Stede’s shoulder with all the enthusiasm he can muster. 

“Stede, come on, you gotta see this!” Ed says, his hand moving down Stede’s arm from the shoulder he’s been shaking and down to his hand.  Stede’s still not fully awake yet, and he finds that he doesn’t quite have it in him to respond verbally, but he nods and lets Ed pull him up out of bed without complaint. 

Ed hauls him through the house and out the front door without pausing for even a second to let Stede slip on a robe or a pair of shoes. He marches him right down the stairs and to their garden in his nightshirt and bare feet. 

The cool morning air is bracing and it finally wakes Stede up enough to the point that he can get out a “What-”

His barely formed question is quickly interrupted by Ed wrapping an arm around his shoulder and saying, with barely repressed glee, “Stede, look down!”

Stede follows the command and, at first, all he sees is his own bare feet in the dirt. He’s about to lift his head back up and ask Ed if he may have, perhaps, bumped his head in the night when he finally catches what Ed’s so excited about. 

Three tiny green sprouts that weren’t there the day before have popped up overnight. They’re barely much of anything. They’re not even an inch off the ground yet and are so indistinct that Stede couldn’t even try to figure out what kind of plants they are if he tried. 

And yet, slowly but surely, Stede finds himself feeling just as elated as Ed is. 

They’d done it. They’d worked together and they’d fixed up the inn. They made it their own. They’d made it beautiful and whole. And now they have this too – three little plants slowly growing and thriving under their care. 

“Oh Ed,” Stede breathes, fighting back a surprising wave of emotion. “They’re absolutely perfect. You have quite the green thumb.”

“We do,” Ed says, squeezing Stede even tighter from where he still has his arm wrapped around his shoulder. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Another skill for the resume. What can’t we do? Babe, I really think we could take over the world, if we put our minds to it.”

While Stede laughs at his joke, he finds that the words don’t sit quite right with him. He may have helped till the soil and do the planting. He may have told Ed how to care for the plants and painted the fence. But from moment one, this had been Ed’s idea and he had accepted his role of gardener with gusto. He has been the one waking up early to water the garden, building a fence to keep it safe, and speaking to it with loving and kind words. 

“No, I think this one was all you, darling,” Stede says. “I may have helped get you started but you’re the one who’s taken care of them. You’re the reason they’re thriving. You should be so proud of yourself.”

He leans in to press a gentle kiss to Ed’s cheek after he says it, savoring the feeling of Ed’s stubble against his lips and hoping that Ed can feel even a fraction of the immense amount of love and pride Stede feels towards him. 

As he pulls away from Ed, he’s quickly distracted by the sound of flapping wings from the other side of the garden. Stede turns just in time to watch as a seagull perches on the fence across from them, taking in the two of them and the garden curiously. 

“Ah, look!” Stede says, moving out from under Ed’s arm to move closer towards the bird. “Even Buttons has come to admire your handiwork! What do you think? It’s pretty impressive isn’t it?”

Admittedly, Stede still feels a little silly talking to a bird that may or may not actually be Buttons. But there’s something in the way that he doesn’t fly away as Stede gets closer and the way he tilts his head and makes a low, twittering sound back in reply that seems decidedly human.

Stede gently reaches out a hand towards Buttons. Maybe he’ll hop into his palm or perhaps lower his head so that Stede give him an affectionate pat.

Instead, the bird merely blinks at him one more time and then squawks incredibly loudly before completely flying away. 

Stede lets out a disappointed sigh, stumbling back a bit as he watches the gull fly further and further away. “Well,” he says. “I don’t know what I expected. But, man, you think you know a guy and then-”

Stede turns on his heel to face Ed, who’s been suspiciously quiet, and continue to rant about Buttons’s sudden rude streak. But when he looks back, he finds that Ed isn’t looking his way at all. In fact, Ed’s gaze hasn’t moved from the three shoots at the end of the garden and as Stede moves closer he realizes that there are tears gathering in Ed’s eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Stede asks, rushing to Ed’s side. He reaches out and threads their hands together as soon as he’s within arm’s reach.

Ed shakes his head, seemingly trying to clear it, or perhaps will the tears away. It doesn’t work and when he finally opens his mouth to speak, his voice is tight with emotion, and he can barely get the words out. “I just – I-”

Stede soothes him with a gentle hand on his chest and squeezes his other hand even tighter around Ed’s. “Take your time,” Stede whispers. “I’m here.”

It takes a couple of minutes but eventually he says, “So much of my life has been spent destroying things. Raiding, stealing, killing. It was all part of the job. But then I ended up doing it for so long that I thought that maybe it was the only thing I’d ever be good at, and I hated myself for it.

I tried to be something else. I tried to be a fisherman and I failed. And then everything that happened with Ricky and the British happened and all I could think about was you – how to avenge you and then how to keep you safe. So, I went back to it. Maybe it was all I was good for but if it was to protect the man I love, I could live with it.”

It breaks Stede’s heart to hear it, but he doesn’t dare interrupt him. Not while he can visibly see Ed working through all of this to get to the other side of it. He just holds him closer.

“But, you’re right,” Ed continues, whispering his next words as if he can barely believe he’s saying them. “I did this. I helped them grow.”

Stede knows this feeling well. The horrible dissonance between what you’ve long considered to be the truth and proof of the opposite right in front of your eyes. He thinks back to the night he left, when Chauncey had told him that ruined everything he touched and that he defiled beautiful things. In that moment, he had believed him so completely. And yet, here Stede is, beside the man he loves and their beautiful home that they’ve built together piece by piece. 

He pulls Ed in, crushing them together, and runs his hands through Ed’s hair as he tucks his head into the crook of Stede’s neck. Stede can feel the tears that were gathering in the corner of his eyes finally fall into the shoulder of Stede’s nightshirt. 

“Oh love,” Stede says, continuing to gently play with Ed’s hair and rub soothing circles down his back. “Those were things you did but they don’t define you.”

Stede knows what Ed’s done. He knows the havoc he’s wrought. But he also knows that he picked Stede up and tended to his wounds before Stede even knew his name. He treated him tenderly and taught him all the things he needed to know as a pirate, always softly encouraging him. He’s protected him and kept him safe countless times. 

He thinks that maybe Ed was drawn to those seeds for a reason.

He clutches Ed to him, impossibly tighter, and whispers “I think you were actually meant to be a gardener all along.”

…

It takes them a while to leave the garden but eventually, when all their tears have dried, they manage to leave, hand in hand. 

The rest of their day goes by normally. They bring their dirty clothes and linens down to the river and spend their afternoon doing laundry. Ed is more subdued than usual, but he doesn’t bring up their conversation again and still plays with Stede happily, showing Stede the best tips for skipping stones and playfully splashing him. 

However, as they make their way back to the inn and start to put dinner together Stede notices that Ed starts to get quieter and more thoughtful. He slowly stops making conversation in favor of companionable silence. It's not in Ed's nature, but Stede doesn't push, and at least attempts to suppress his panic. He just hopes that if Ed has more to say, that he trusts Stede enough to start the conversation when he’s ready. 

The dam finally breaks when they sit down for dinner together. They’re perched on the same two logs that they’ve eaten dinner at every night since they got here, the fire that they used to cook their meal slowly dying between them. 

Stede can tell that Ed is gearing up to restart the conversation before he even opens his mouth, simply based on the fact that he’s getting increasingly more and more twitchy. But when he finally comes out and says what’s on his mind, Stede nearly falls over.

“I think we need to talk about what happened with Ned Low.”

It’s the emotional equivalent of Ed throwing a bucket of ice water down his back. Stede’s immediate response is deep, unabating panic . This is what I get for getting comfortable, Stede thinks. This is what I get.

 “Do we have to?” Stede asks. Stede knows it’s cowardly when he says it, but the panic feels like a tangible weight inside his gut and he can’t help but try. “After all the bloodshed we saw when we were fighting the British. Can’t we just pretend it never happened?”

A memory floods back to Stede of the night Ed confessed to planning Stede’s murder. They had agreed to let it go then. Maybe they can avoid this too. Maybe they can just move on.

Ed closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. Stede can see his hands tremble as he gently places his dinner plate on the ground. But when Ed looks back up at Stede, he looks more determined than ever. 

“You don’t know how badly I want to tell you yes,” Ed admits, and it helps ease some of the tension between them. “But I keep thinking about this morning. About how it felt really awful to talk about how I was feeling at first but then, once it was out there, I felt like a weight had been lifted. It was such a relief that I couldn’t help but spend the rest of the day thinking of all the other times that maybe, if we had just talked to each other…” Ed stops to take another deep breath.  

When he talks again, it’s stilted and hesitant. “I think th – I think that,” his words are stumbling and strained but, ever determined, he pushes on anyway. “If we’re in this for the long haul we’re going to have hard conversations sometimes. I’m starting to think that’s just how life is. We can’t be afraid to talk to each other or it’s going to build up until it explodes.”

Stede knows that he’s right, but it doesn’t make him hate this any less. It doesn’t feel comforting or like it’s going to help them at this moment. It feels more like Ed’s taking a needle to their happy little bubble.

“Ned Low was different than what happened with the British,” Ed continues. “And it was something we should’ve talked about before now. And my mind has kept going back to it today. So, talk it through as a crew, right?”

It looks like it physically pains Ed to say every word, but he says it anyway. If this was about nearly any other topic of conversation, Stede would be applauding Ed for being so brave. But the only thing that Stede can think of is how the last time they even approached the subject of Ned Low, Ed had left him the very next day. He had called their night together a mistake .

Stede can feel his throat working, trying to force some words out, but he just can’t. 

Something in Ed’s gaze softens at that sight of Stede struggling and Stede gladly accepts the hand Ed offers him across the space between them. He squeezes Ed’s fingers tightly.

“Hey,” Ed says softly, impossibly gentle. “I know you love me, Stede. And you know I love you. And it can’t go away in an instant – you said that.”

Stede remembers the night Ed had revealed that he had found one of his letters. It was one of the very first nights at the inn. Ed had kissed him with such fervor, whispering his love into Stede’s lips over and over again.

Stede does know Ed loves him. And he meant what he wrote. It still doesn’t stop the fear from creeping in. 

But still, Ed’s been so vulnerable and so brave all day today. And even though Stede hates it, he’s right. They can’t keep avoiding the hard conversations. Historically, it’s only made things worse. 

So Stede takes a deep breath and decides to try being brave too. 

“I still worry that there’s a part of you that hates me for killing him,” Stede whispers. “For not being the bigger person.”

Stede holds his breath for a moment after he says it, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the universe to prove all his worst fears correct. 

But instead, Ed only pulls him closer, reaching out to tenderly tuck a stray piece of hair behind Stede’s ear and bringing their joined hands up to his lips for a kiss. “Never, never ,” Ed says fiercely. “Stede, you don’t have to be perfect all the time or make the choices I would make to keep my love. It is yours. I just want to understand why. And to have the conversation I meant to have with you that night.”

As much as Ed’s words melt Stede’s heart, the last sentence still rattles him. A mistake, a mistake, a mistake plays on a cruel loop in his head. 

But Ed is still looking at him expectantly and Stede knows he can’t delay this any longer, so he takes a deep breath and says, “I was just so angry. Angry at the way he treated you and the crew. Angry at the way that he just waltzed onto our ship and tried to hurt all the people I care about. And I suppose, if we’re being painfully honest, I wanted to prove him wrong. Show him that I wasn’t an amateur and that I wasn’t your pet. That I was in your league.”

Ed flinches at that particular confession and it stings to see it but now that’s he started; Stede knows that he has to keep going until he’s gotten it all out. 

“I know that was wrong and that I shouldn’t have let him manipulate me like that. And I know that I disappointed you. In retrospect, I am so, so ashamed.” Stede can feel hot tears of long repressed guilt starting to build in the corner of his eyes. He had hoped to get through this without tears but he’s quickly finding out that that is likely impossible. “Not that I don’t think that Ned got what was coming to him. But I do feel shame for letting you down and for how I let it all get to my head the next day.” 

“I wasn’t disappointed in you,” Ed says, reaching out to gently wipe Stede’s tears away. “I was disappointed in the situation. And I was sad for you – sad that I couldn’t protect you from making all the same shitty choices I’ve made.”

Ed moves even closer, so close that their knees bump together, and takes his hand out of Stede’s only to raise it to his jaw. Ed leans forward and cups Stede’s face between his hands so gently, as if Stede will break, as if he’s a piece of fine porcelain. 

Ed’s eyes are wide and wet and his voice hitches with emotion as he says, “You are so precious to me. I never want you to feel the terrible things I’ve felt.”

Stede has never felt so simultaneously adored and absolutely heartbroken. It feels like a hurricane has taken up residence in his chest. As he processes Ed’s words, he thinks back to this morning – to Ed sobbing in the garden. He thinks of the massive toll that years and years of endless brutality has taken on him. And he thinks of how much he loves Ed and how he would bend heaven and earth to save him from even the smallest amount of pain.

Ed runs his thumbs across his cheeks and a knot in his chest that Stede hadn’t even been aware he’d been carrying loosens. 

“I understand that now,” Stede says, and he finds that he means it down in his very bones. 

“Are you okay?” Ed asks and Stede knows that he doesn’t just mean now, in this moment. 

“It feels heavy sometimes,” Stede admits. “But I can’t say I regret it. He was far from innocent.”

Ed nods along and eventually he lets his hands fall from Stede’s face. They glide down Stede’s chest and find their way back to Stede’s own hands, gripping them tightly. 

Stede clears his throat, finding the strength in him to brave one more time. “However, while we’re having hard conversations,” Stede says. “I do you owe you an apology for the…mistake.”

It’s been weighing on Stede’s mind since his and Ed’s fight, but he hasn’t wanted to bring it back up and rehash it. After what happened with the British, it just never seemed to be the right time. It’s been so much easier to just be with each other, to keep telling each other that they were going back to the original plan of taking it slow, to try and ignore the problem until it went away.

It takes Ed a few moments to put the pieces together, his brows furrowing together in thought for a beat before sudden realization dawns on him. “Oh no, Stede – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that when I said it or well – not in that way-”

Stede feels horrible, watching Ed fumble for the words to excuse him and quickly steps in, “It’s okay if you did mean it,” he says. “We shouldn’t have-”

“No, no, no ,” Ed says, cutting Stede off quickly and firmly. “When I apologized for being a dick on the beach that next day, I was including what I said about that night being a mistake. I was just panicking. Having sex with you wasn’t a mistake. It was-” Ed cuts himself off, taking a moment to collect himself. His previous words had started to take on a slightly rattled tone but when he starts to speak again his words are measured and thoughtful. “It was ill-timed. And not the tone I dreamed of for our first time. But it wasn’t a mistake, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

Yet again, it eases something in Stede’s chest to hear Ed say it and Stede knows that it would’ve helped immensely to have had this conversation before now. But it had just made sense to him – more sense than Ed wanting him had ever made. Stede had spent his entire life unwanted and out of place. 

As the silence grows between them, he wonders what Ed is thinking. If he’s replaying that night in his head. Or if he’s thinking of all the nights they’ve spent together since and all the near starts they’ve had where Stede has stopped them with a gentle we should be going slow, darling . 

He doesn’t have to wait long before Ed answers his question with a hesitant, “Is that why we haven’t-? All this time? Or do you really want to keep going slow?”

Stede can feel a blush creeping up his cheeks, feeling caught and awkward. Stede isn’t used to this. He can’t remember the last time he had a frank conversation about sex, if he ever had one at all. But he had brought this up and Ed is looking at him expectantly and this is important, so he forces his mouth to form the words.

“That night meant a lot to me, as imperfect as it was, and it hurt to hear you call it a mistake,” Stede confesses. Ed’s mouth immediately falls into a pronounced frown at Stede’s admission, and he breaks eye contact with Stede, looking down at the ground instead. Stede hates it. He wants to take it back. He wants to make Ed laugh again. But they had gone into this knowing that it would be a hard conversation and he owes Ed the truth. 

“Logically, I understood what you really meant after you apologized on the beach,” Stede continues. “But deep down I think I convinced myself that I had completely ruined that aspect of our relationship by rushing into things right after you had just asked to go slow. And if there was no coming back from that or no fixing it, if trying again would ruin all the good things we’ve built together, then I thought – why not avoid it completely? It wasn’t what I wanted but it was better than having it confirmed that I had really ruined our sex life before it even began. Or, even worse, that it would end up being the crack in our foundation that ruined the whole thing.”

“Stede, you didn’t ruin anything,” Ed says it so emphatically, like what’s Stede’s said is so outlandish that he can’t believe it. His eyes are back on Stede’s, and he looks far from sad now. He looks so determined that he’s nearly wild with it. “Nothing is ruined between us.”

The words hit Stede right in the chest. He can’t help but think of the night he ran away. It’s a brutal reminder of what Chauncey had said and how correct it had all felt in that moment. 

It occurs to him that maybe, in the spirit of honesty, he should finally tell Ed what happened that night. He hadn’t brought it up to Ed when he first came back because he didn’t want it to seem like he was making excuses. And then it was one thing after another, and it just never seemed like the right time or important enough to rehash. 

After he had left Bridgetown to find Ed, he had tried to convince himself that those words wouldn’t have power over him anymore. But if the massive amount of relief Stede’s feeling right now at Ed’s simple you didn’t ruin anything is any indicator, he thinks that maybe he isn’t as over it as he thought he was.

But, tonight has been overwhelming enough as it is and Stede can’t bring himself to pile Chauncey and a reminder of how badly Stede had hurt them onto everything else. So, he pushes it aside again in favor of bringing Ed’s hand in his up for a kiss, just like Ed had before, and is delighted to see him smiling back at him again for the first time since this conversation started. 

“I want you in all the ways, all the time,” Ed tells him, still determined but softer. “The only reason I didn’t push back when you’ve said that we needed to keep things slow is because I thought that’s what you genuinely wanted.”

“It’s not what I want,” Stede says. “I just didn’t want to screw things up again or push you into doing something you weren’t interested in.”

Something in Ed’s expression changes, his eyes going bright and mischievous, and Stede has two whole seconds to enjoy the fact that they finally seem to be on the same page before Ed opens his mouth and says, “I cannot overstate how willing I would be to literally fuck you right here in this grass right this second.”

“Oh really?” Stede yelps and he sounds scandalized, but the words actually make him so happy that he can’t help the laughter bubbling up in his chest. When he finally lets it out and hears Ed laugh in return his heart sings. 

“Yes, really !” Ed says between giggles. “I’m laying it all out there. It’s the truth!”

Eventually their laughter dies down, but the atmosphere has changed. It had been a difficult conversation but now that it is over, they are both lighter for it.  

“Stede, I love you,” Ed says easily, happily swinging their hands, still wrapped together, to and fro. “Believe me when I say, you have nothing to worry about. You and me – we’re good.”

Just like when Stede had suggested turning poison into positivity, Ed had managed to take so much of Stede’s fear and turn it into hope in just the span of a few sentences and Stede somehow finds himself falling just a little bit more in love with him. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Stede pulls Ed into his arms and breathes him in. All is well.

…

With all the major renovations complete, Stede and Ed spend the next few weeks ironing out the details. 

They start with the furniture. Limited to what they can carry in their dinghy and with a tight budget, their first idea is to try and build a few basic pieces. While they’ve been able to see through all their various projects thus far, furniture building is where their luck runs out. 

No matter how well they measure or how exact they try to be, there always ends up being one leg that’s too short or two pieces that don’t line up or one screw that won’t cooperate. After a thousand splinters, a few tears, and one notable incident where Stede nearly chops his own finger off, they finally admit defeat.

They end up having to pay a local San Salvador fisherman with access to a larger boat to help them transport everything. Between the fisherman’s fee and the cost of the furniture, they are now one minor financial inconvenience away from complete destitution. But after one dinner at an actual dining table and one night’s sleep on a new feather mattress on an actual bedframe, they both agree that it was worth every penny. 

Little by little, the inn turns into more and more of a home. Within a month, Ed’s garden has burst into life.  The assorted mystery plants end up being a pretty even split between wildflowers and vegetables. They haven’t been able to harvest anything yet, but they can at least identify what each will eventually become and eagerly anticipate the arrival of their first tomatoes, lettuce, and peppers. 

They turn the yellow gingham fabric they bought on their first shopping trip into curtains for their windows and fill the shelves around the house with whatever knick knacks and baubles they brought from the Revenge. They had insisted on taking the little model of the Revenge, which had somehow managed to survive everything that had happened, and it now has a place of pride on the mantle above their hearth. It’s a sweet reminder of the first home they shared together in their new one. 

The days turn into weeks and before they know it, the inn is complete and they’ve settled into a daily routine. Ed typically rises first and when Stede wakes up, he usually finds him tending to his plants in the garden. He’ll go out to greet him and they’ll plan their day together. Some days are busy and full of chores while others are sweet and lazy and spent mostly in bed. There are quiet days too – somber and spent looking contemplatively out at the sea or softly telling Izzy whatever is on their minds while sitting beside his grave. 

But above all, the days are happy. 

Ed finds him in their only guest room one afternoon. Their inn isn’t big. They’ve only got this one room in addition to their own room and the main area that hosts the main entry way, dining area, and kitchen. But he’s proud of the space they’ve pulled together with its two little beds and the cream-colored quilts with tiny starfish embroidered along the edges and the heavy walnut dresser that he and Ed nearly threw their backs out hauling in here. 

Ed’s arms are full of fresh flowers from the garden and Stede accepts them gratefully, plopping them into the vase on the nightstand between the two beds. 

“Huh,” Ed says, looking around at the room and taking in all the little details. “We really pulled it off, babe.”

Stede bristles at the implication that they might not have managed it. “Of course, we did!” Stede says. “Did you ever doubt that we would?”

“Hmmm…” Ed hums, tilting his head to the side in thought and leaning against the doorframe. He looks around, taking in all the things they’ve accomplished. “The heart never doubted but maybe the head did a couple of times. The roof collapsing on day four was pretty demoralizing.”

“Oh nonsense,” Stede says, slipping an arm around Ed’s waist to tuck himself against his side and take in the room alongside him. “That was character building.”

They share a laugh together before taking a moment to soak it all in.

“All we need now are guests,” Ed says, breaking the silence. Then a beat later, “I’m proud of us.”

And Stede - who’s felt like a failure all his life, who’s never done anything right – looks around at this wholly perfect thing that they’ve created together and can’t help but agree. 

He squeezes Ed against his side tightly, hoping he can convey even a fraction of the absolute bliss and contentment he feels through touch alone. 

…

They had been lucky to make it through most of the summer without much rain, especially in the early days when the inn resembled something closer to swiss cheese than a building. 

But when the rain finally does come, it comes with a vengeance. They had prepared the best they could, shuttering the windows and hunkering down. But the wind is so strong that it almost seems like the entire house is shaking with it. That, combined with the sound of the rain hitting the roof in sheets, makes it near impossible to relax. 

“It sounds awful,” Stede remarks as one particularly intense gust of wind sends the shutters thwapping against the window in quick succession. “Like we’re about to be swept away in a tornado.”

They’d just finished eating a fish stew that he and Ed had thrown together from whatever bits and bobs they had on hand and are sat across from each other at the table. With the windows covered and the dark storm clouds rumbling, the inside of the inn is nearly pitch black, only broken up by the dying embers in the fireplace and a few feverishly flickering candles. Stede takes a moment to admire the shadows playing across Ed’s face and the way his eyes turn an amber color in the candlelight.

 It would all be very romantic if it weren’t for the monsoon happening outside. 

“We’ll be alright,” Ed says comfortingly, reaching his hand across the table to fold his fingers around Stede’s. “I’ve been through worse storms than this out at sea. Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly got struck by lightning?”

He hasn’t. It’s one of the many stories that they haven’t shared with each other yet. Stede delights in every new stone unturned between them and he can tell, based on the excited gleam in Ed’s eye and the way his free hand twitches against the table that it’s going to be a good one. 

“No,” Stede replies, smiling back at Ed and squeezing the hand wrapped around his. “But I’d love to hear it.”

Ed brightens at Stede’s words and is about to dive into his story when they’re interrupted by three knocks on their front door. The knocks are so loud and distinct that they both jump in their chairs before sharing a startled look. 

It sounds like a person is knocking but they haven’t seen anyone else on the island since the crew left. It’s come up in conversation before, them being innkeepers with no potential guests, but they’ve always managed to push it to the back burner. We’ll advertise, Ed had said the last time it came up. Make up a real nice brochure.

“Maybe it’s just a tree branch hitting the wall?” Stede suggests, still not able to wrap his head around the idea of someone managing to find them in this weather. 

Ed’s brow furrows, looking at the door in confusion. “I’m not sure-” Ed is quickly cut off by another three knocks. This time the knocks are followed by another noise. It’s muffled through the door, and they have to strain to hear it over the gusts of wind, but they hear it nonetheless: a man’s voice asking, “Is anybody in there?”

They both jump to their feet immediately. Because old habits die hard and since they both still have plenty of enemies between them, Ed quickly grabs a knife as they make their way to the door, and he tugs Stede behind him. Stede only has a moment to let his heart melt a little at Ed’s protective gesture before they’re sharing one quick nod and flinging open the door. 

He supposes that after their months of unbroken peace, he’s half expecting the other shoe to drop and to find the entirety of the British navy waiting on their porch. 

But there’s no naval fleet waiting for them. 

Two men peer back at Ed and Stede from their spots on the porch, shivering and soaked to the bone. They stand beside each other, desperately clutching rucksacks to their chest in an attempt to save them from the rain. They’re far from menacing and with the rain, which is now being blown sideways with the force of the wind, still hitting them they look particularly pitiful. 

“Oh, thank god,” one of the men says, his body visibly sagging with relief as Stede and Ed come into view. “We’re so grateful to have found you. I’m Dave and this is my assistant Brian. We work for one of the merchants in San Salvador, you see, and we were just on our way back from Tortuga when the storm hit, and we were forced to dock. Do you have an available room?”

The effect the words have on Ed is immediate. It’s like watching a sunrise or a flower bloom. Every bit of him lights up in excitement, from the tips of his twitching toes to his brow, which crinkles with the force of his wide grin. Stede is so charmed with Ed’s visible glee that he barely contains the surprised yelp that escapes him as Ed hastily flings the knife, which he had been keeping behind his back, to the corner of the room. 

“Welcome to Jeff and Godfrey’s Inn by the Sea!” Ed booms, throwing his arms wide open and ushering the two men inside. “Please come in.”

“I’m Godfrey,” Stede says as they make their way inside. “And this is my partner, Jeff. We’re so glad that you’ll be staying with us!”

Stede’s not entirely sure what kind of picture they make, he and Ed standing in front of Dave and Brian with wide smiles and their hands folded politely in front of them, but he hopes they come across as proper professionals. He wishes that he had known they were coming. He would’ve changed into a shirt that didn’t have fish gut stains on it. 

If their guests are put off by them, they do a good job of concealing it. They simply return their smiles and say “Wonderful – and how much will it cost for the night?”

It’s only at this very moment that Stede realizes that he and Ed have never actually made a business plan for the inn.

Profit margins, labor costs, monthly expenses – these are things that never held much interest to Stede, and he had been wealthy enough to pay someone else to worry about them for him when he inherited the Bonnet estate. Now he almost wishes that he had actually paid attention. 

He and Ed share a quick, nervous sideways glance as they hem and haw, floundering as they try to come up with a suitable answer to what should be a straightforward question. 

When they take so long to answer that Dave finally asks, “Is everything okay?” Ed snaps into action. 

“Oh of course, sir,” Ed exclaims, just this side of too loud. “It’s just that – what would you say is a fair price for an inn of this quality?”

This time, it’s Dave and Brian that share the sideways glance with each other, their tentative smiles now falling off their faces completely. 

“Uh,” Brian says, finally replying after sharing a series of confused expressions with his companion, “Ten doubloons a night, I guess?”

“How convenient!” Stede replies. “That’s exactly what our rate is, isn’t it Jeff?” 

Stede elbows Ed lightly in the side as he says it, trying to communicate play along without having to come out and say it. Ed seems to pick up on what Stede is putting down right away because he immediately starts nodding in agreement and says “Indeed! You’ve got quite the head on your shoulders, Brian. A real eye for business!”

“Right,” he replies. An awkward silence falls over the room for a few minutes with all four of them shuffling uncomfortably and desperately thinking of what to say next. The only sounds they hear are the squeaking of boots and the drip drip drip of rainwater puddling on the floor. 

When they do break the silence, it’s all at once. 

“Well, we should probably just head to-” Dave starts to say at the same time Stede offers, “You should eat! We have stew!”

They start to protest Stede’s suggestion at first, but Ed is quick on his feet, jumping into action and herding them over to the dinner table. He clears his and Stede’s dirty dishes out of the way before anyone else can get a word out edgewise. 

“We made this ourselves,” Ed says, nearly bouncing on his feet with excitement as he ladles the stew into fresh bowls and plops them down on the table. Stede notices, with a wince, that the leftover stew has cooled and congealed slightly with the fire having mostly died down. Desperate to try and save the meal somehow, he digs into their cabinets and pulls out a leftover, half-eaten loaf of bread and a knife. Bread will certainly save it. 

When Stede turns back to the table he notices Dave and Brian looking down at their bowls with a dubious expression and, more pressingly, Ed seems to notice as well. He watches as Ed’s entire attitude, which had been nothing but one of pure, unmitigated childlike delight, changes completely. 

Ed’s shoulders sag in disappointment and his voice drops low as he asks, “Oh, do you not like it?

Stede doesn’t know what comes over him. He knows that good customer service sometimes involves holding your tongue but all it takes is one look at Ed’s pout and he’s snapping, “Eat it,” in a tone more commanding than his captain’s voice had ever been. 

All three heads snap towards him in response and, based on the looks of confusion from one and mild terror he receives in return from the other two, he thinks that maybe he should have tried to keep himself in check. Especially when he remembers that he has a knife in one hand. 

However, any regret he feels is swiftly assuaged when their guests quickly dig in and Ed brightens again as he takes in their loud noises of delight and compliments to the chef.

“So, you’re in the merchant business!” Ed remarks as Stede lays the bread down on the table and comes to sit beside him. “What do you trade in?”

Dave lets out a deep sigh, giving Stede a quick once over to double check that he is unarmed before he makes any sudden moves. Only after confirming that he’s left the knife back in the cabinet does he put down the spoon and say, “Food. Mostly cured meats like salt pork or corned beef. Sometimes we’ll haul fish into port too if we’re not too far away and can get it back before it spoils.”

“Fascinating!” Ed replies. “You know I was a fisherman once. Say – have you ever crossed paths with a rather surly man named Pop Pop?”

They all continue talking for about an hour, though talking might be a generous way of describing it. It could be more closely described as Ed happily chatting their ears off about fishing techniques. 

Eventually, after they finish their bowls of stew and properly indulge Ed in conversation, Dave and Brian insist that they really must get to their rooms to change and get to bed and this time, Stede and Ed don’t stop them. 

As soon as the door clicks behind them, Ed is in Stede’s arms before he can even say a word. 

“Guests! Our first guests!” Ed whispers happily into Stede’s ear. Ed is clutched around him so tightly that Stede can barely breath and he speaks with such enthusiasm that he shakes Stede a bit with every word. Stede can’t help but let out a giddy bark of laughter in delight. 

“I know, darling. You were phenomenal. A perfect host.”

Stede’s about to wrap his arms around Ed in turn but Ed’s already moved away from him before he can lift his arms. He’s practically bouncing off the walls as he starts to run ideas off Stede in quick succession.

“What should we do tomorrow? Offer laundry service, maybe? Or how about a tour of the island – make it a real experience!”

He’s so thrilled, eyes glowing and hands waving wildly as he thinks aloud. Stede adores all the different versions of Ed, but he thinks that this one – a barely contained live wire, his brain whirring with a million different brilliant ideas -  is one of his favorites. 

He eagerly listens to Ed babble for a little bit, enjoying every one of his various thoughts and inventions, before he cuts in and suggests, “How about breakfast in bed? They’ll probably have to be out early tomorrow to get back to their ship. It might be nice to give them a delicious, leisurely breakfast before we send them on their way.”

In another whirlwind of movement, Ed is back in his arms in an instant. “That’s perfect, babe,” Ed says, covering Stede’s face in a smattering of kisses in between every word. “I love you so much.”

Stede finds himself laughing yet again. While he’s plenty happy to have hosted their first guests himself, Ed’s joy is so overwhelming and so obvious that it’s contagious. He can’t keep the giggles in, nor does he want to. He wants to ride this high with Ed and revel in all the happiness it brings. 

Ed finishes his barrage of kisses with one last searing kiss to Stede’s lips. When he pulls away, Stede says, “Well, I guess we’re officially proper innkeepers now.”

Instead of a verbal reply, Ed presses another kiss to his lips and Stede can feel it as Ed’s lips curl into a blinding smile against his own. 

…

The storm has passed by the time the sun rises the next morning. Stede and Ed are halfway through putting together their breakfast trays, complete with a little twine bow for decoration, when the door to the guest room flies open and Dave and Brian come out into the room fully dressed and packed. 

“You aren’t staying?” Ed asks, disappointment evident in his voice. “We were going to bring you breakfast.”

“No, sorry, we have to get back to San Salvador as quickly as possible,” Dave replies, speaking so quickly that his words practically meld together into one unintelligible mess. “If we’re delayed any further it’ll cause uh…” He pauses for a moment to share a look with Brian.

“Supply chain issues!” Brian supplies helpfully. 

“Yes!” Dave agrees emphatically. “Massive supply chain issues!”

They’ve been slowly backing their way towards the front door during the entire exchange. At this point, they’re at the door and Brian quickly twists the knob and flings it open. “Here’s your money,” he says, tossing a pouch full of coins on the counter between the two breakfast trays. “Uh…thanks, I guess?”

Without another word, the two of them are gone and out the door. They don’t even bother closing the door behind them, giving Stede and Ed a perfect view of them hurriedly sprinting down the beach and back onto their boat. 

“Huh,” Ed says as Stede scoops up the pouch and counts the coins within. “That was weird. Who knew cured meats played such an important role in the economy?”

“Indeed,” Stede agrees but he looks up from the pouch with a smile. “But at least they didn’t stiff us. It’s all here – ten doubloons. Our first profit!”

“Look at us!” Ed says, returning Stede’s smile with a grin of his own. He gestures down to the breakfast trays in front of them. “Breakfast in bed to celebrate?”

“Sounds perfect,” Stede replies. They take their trays and curl up together under the sheets, celebrating their victory. 

…

As summer turns into fall, Stede and Ed find that the weather isn’t the only thing changing. Finally clearing the hurdle of hosting their first guests seems to have broken the metaphorical dam that had been keeping people away previously and it isn’t long before their second guests arrive on their doorstep. 

Their arrival is much less dramatic and fraught than the previous guests. They show up bright and early on a crisp, sunny morning and are all smiles as they cheerfully introduce themselves as the new Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson. They had just gotten married a few days prior and are stopping over as they travel further west for their honeymoon. 

They’re very young and very in love, making them incredibly easy guests. All Stede and Ed have to do is add a few romantic elements here and there like a few roses in their room, cut toast in the shape of hearts, and pushing the beds together so they don’t have to sleep apart and they’re over the moon, absolutely gushing about how wonderful everything is. 

Stede catches Ed shooting him a few sideways glances during their stay. At first, he thinks that they’re calls for help, similar to when Brian and Dave visited, but whenever Stede checks in with Ed, he just gives him a sort of dreamy look for a moment before completely brushing him off. Stede thinks he even catches Ed blushing a few times. It’s bizarre but Ed doesn’t ever respond to Stede’s prodding on it and he’s still, largely, his normal self so Stede doesn’t push it. 

When the couple comes to check out and pay, they’re still just as wrapped up in each other as they were the morning they arrived. They thank Stede and Ed heartily, leave them a generous tip on top of their nightly fee, and manage to do it all without ever breaking contact. They always have a hand on each other’s hip or shoulder, seemingly unconscious of the fact that they’re even doing it. 

“They were sweet,” Ed comments, watching through the window with a fond, wistful look as the couple walks back to their boat hand in hand. 

“Mhmm,” Stede agrees absentmindedly as he flutters in and out of the main room and the guest room, cleaning up the breakfast dishes and collecting any laundry that needs to be done. “Very young too. Idealistic. Blind.”

“What does that mean?” Ed asks, voice oddly pinched. He’s still out towards the front of the inn while Stede’s in the guest room, moving things back where they belong and doing some initial cleaning, but his voice carries. 

Stede replies as he works, saying, “It means that sometimes marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” 

The words are out of Stede like a knee jerk reaction, and he feels bad as soon as he says them. He knows that he’s speaking from a place of bitterness, thinking back on his own ill-suited union with Mary, and it’s not fair. “Or, well, at least mine certainly wasn’t,” he adds, walking back his original statement a bit. 

Ed doesn’t reply, staying uncharacteristically quiet instead. When Stede comes back out into the main room he finds Ed still looking out the front window, but his expression has fallen. He looks out at the waves lapping against the shore with a deep frown. 

Stede takes in his frown and immediately feels guilty. He remembers how poorly Ed had reacted to the mention of Mary when they were at Anne and Mary’s house. He’d been angry enough to smash his chair into pieces. It had been inconsiderate of him to bring her up again. 

Stede walks over to Ed and gently cups a hand around his cheek, turning his face so that they’re looking at each other. “But then again,” Stede says, “how could it have ever worked when I was still waiting for you? I just didn’t know it yet.”

Ed’s gaze softens immediately, his frown melting away in favor of something tender and lovestruck instead. He raises a hand to lay over Stede’s and snuggles into Stede’s palm for a moment before turning his face to press a kiss to the same spot he just nuzzled.  

It’s a sweet gesture and helps to diffuse any lingering tension between them. Within a few moments, Ed is already dropping Stede’s hand and moving on to happily chat about a new recipe idea he had earlier, like their conversation about marriage had never happened. 

…

There’s something about their third guest that just rubs Stede the wrong way from the very moment he enters the inn.

His name is Rupert and he introduces himself as a man of leisure and a world traveler of great renown, though neither Ed nor Stede have ever heard of him. At first Stede wonders if the instant, deep dislike he feels for the man is jealousy. After all, he’s dressed in a decadent, silk suit and while it’s a bit dated, it isn’t totally unlike what Stede regularly wore not even six months ago. And even though Ed keeps the tone of their conversation light and fairly professional, he does still hang on to every word Rupert says as he recounts tales from his recent travels. 

Maybe he is a bit jealous (it is a nice suit) but something still doesn’t sit right with Stede. He just can’t put his finger on it. 

Until Stede escorts Rupert to his room. 

The second he follows Stede in, his face instantly contorts into a disgusted pucker like he’s just smelled something foul. Though he quickly recovers and manages to paste on a more genial expression, Stede’s already caught his genuine reaction, and it sets his teeth on edge. 

But then Rupert turns to him, with an all-too-familiar variety of arrogant grin, and says, “My goodness, how…quaint.”

And suddenly, it all falls into place. With four words, Stede’s blood is absolutely boiling and Rupert ceases to be Rupert and is, instead, the representation of every high society prick that’s looked down their nose at Stede throughout his life. 

“Yes,” Stede grits out, desperately trying to keep a handle on his ever-growing hatred of the man in front of him and maintain any semblance of customer service. “We’re quite proud of it. We think it’s absolutely charming.”

Rupert outright laughs at Stede’s comment, a razor sharp, mirthless grin on his face, and sneers, “Of course you do. Though I’m quite surprised that it was you and your partner who decorated the space alone. Do you have a third partner that I haven’t met yet? It’s quite a soft design for something put together by two men.”

While it’s an adjective Stede’s heard regarding himself before, quite recently while sailing with Zheng, it’s said in a way that makes it clear that it is meant as derogatorily as possible. 

And he’s a bully, to boot¸ Stede thinks, biting down on his tongue so hard that he’s afraid he may draw blood. 

He knows that he should just turn around and leave. After all, Rupert is still a paying customer. And the last time Stede had given in to his desire to verbally eviscerate a bunch of pompous assholes, it had ended in an entire ship burning down. Stede can’t risk that kind of property damage this time around. 

Still, Stede can’t help but get one jab in before quickly removing himself from the situation. “No – it’s just the two of us. And we pride ourselves on staying true to an authentic, modern vision for the inn,” he says, looking pointedly at Rupert’s suit that is clearly at least five years out of style, “Though I suppose everyone can’t be as up on the trends as they’d like to be.”

The surge of satisfaction he feels when he sees the outrage on Rupert’s face, physical proof of the blow landing as planned, is strong but he manages to keep himself from going any further. Instead, he quickly tells Rupert that he’ll leave him to unpack and makes himself walk away before he says anything further. 

Stede decides to throw himself into cooking dinner for tonight as a way of distracting himself. Ed’s out fishing for the afternoon, so Stede is still stuck alone with Rupert but luckily their interactions are limited to whatever snarky comment he decides to make in Stede’s direction as he lets himself in and out of the inn as he pleases. The remarks only add to Stede’s ire, but he manages to keep a lid on it by pretending whatever he’s chopping is Rupert’s stupid, smug face. 

By the time the meal is ready and Rupert’s sat down, ready to be served, Stede’s calmed down some. It helps that he accepts his plate without commentary. Stede had been bracing himself for some slight against his culinary skills or the quality of the china. 

Stede’s so heartened by Rupert’s seeming change of attitude that he decides to try and salvage the experience a bit. If he’s half as renowned as he implied he was earlier, it would be good for the business to have him speak positively about the inn or possibly even refer people their way. 

They picked up a couple of bottles of red wine when they were last in town – a rare treat. Stede plucks one of the bottles out of the cupboard and brings it over to the table along with a glass, pouring some out for Rupert. When he replies to the gesture with a thank you, Stede brightens. Maybe all of the earlier nastiness had just been a misunderstanding. Perhaps he had just been hungry or tired and needed time to rest. 

Stede’s mood only brightens further when Ed comes back from his fishing trip, strolling in through the front door with his latest catches. 

When they had first started working on the inn, Ed had only gone fishing out of necessity. After about a week or so with varied levels of success, he finally confessed to Stede that after everything had happened (especially his short-lived but rather negative experience with Pop Pop) that he feared the whole experience had been spoiled for him. 

Stede had comforted him and offered to do the fishing for them but also encouraged him to keep trying, if it was what he really wanted. “If you want to learn, keep going,” Stede had said. “You don’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t matter if you don’t catch a thing. We’ll find something else to eat. All that matters is that you enjoy it.”

So, Ed tried again. And much like every new hobby and chore Ed had picked up in this new chapter of their lives, he ended up jumping into it with gusto and enthusiasm. Nothing makes Stede happier than when Ed returns from the garden covered in soil from head to toe, glowing and chattering about all the new buds that have popped up overnight. Or when he comes back from a long walk carrying an armful of wood, with eyes alight and holes in his clothes from where the uneven ends have snagged, as he talks through the idea he had for some new shelves. 

Tonight is no exception. Ed clutches his fish like a trophy, with an easy, happy grin on his face. His cheeks are flushed pink from the wind along the shore and his hair, which he had piled on top of his head in a bun this morning, has slowly started escaping with little tendrils and wisps of hair falling all around his head. His pant legs are still rolled up and damp from where he waded into the water to cast his line and he holds his boots in the hand that isn’t holding his prize while his toes wiggle happily against the floor. 

He’s windswept and radiant and Stede absolutely adores him.

Which is why, when Stede hears Rupert pipe up from beside him and say “My goodness, what did you do? Dive straight into the water and go after them with your teeth like an animal?” Stede snaps immediately.  

It’s not just the words, or the fact that they’re directed towards Edward (which would have been damning enough), but it’s the cruel laugh that he lets out as he says it. Stede’s been on the end of that laugh so many times in his life and hearing it here, in the happy sanctuary he and Ed have made for themselves, is enough to make him want to throttle the man. 

He doesn’t even attempt to conceal what he’s doing, very obviously upending the still open bottle of wine right over Rupert’s lap and outwardly delighting in his screech of dismay as he does it. 

“Oops,” Stede says flatly, shaking the bottle to make sure that every single drop ends up soaking into Rupert’s silk suit. “Clumsy me.”

Rupert’s face twists into an expression of apoplectic rage and Stede worries for a moment that the man might actually make a lunge for him when he snarls, “You idiot! You absolutely pathetic fool!”

Ed, who had frozen in shock at Rupert’s slight against him, suddenly bursts into action when he hears him insult Stede. “What the fuck is your problem?” he hisses, throwing his fish and boots aside and stalking towards the table. 

“My problem?” Rupert shrieks. “Your partner just doused me in red wine! Do you know how much this suit cost?”

At this point, Stede’s blood is boiling and before Ed can even attempt to reply, Stede is already cutting in and saying, “Indeed,” Stede says sharply. “Perhaps you should cut your losses and leave. Immediately.”

Stede catches Ed’s head swiveling out of the corner of his eye, looking between Rupert and Stede as they glare at each other and trying to figure out just how they got here. But Stede can’t bring himself to stop trying to strike Rupert dead with his glower alone long enough to even give him a reassuring look, let alone provide an explanation. 

When it’s clear that Stede isn’t backing down, Rupert turns towards Ed, indignant as he asks, “And you’re just going to stand for this?”

As confused as he is, having just walked in on an extremely tense situation completely out of left field, Ed has his back immediately and without question. “Yep,” Ed says, matter of fact and direct. “You have ten minutes to pack your stuff and go.”

Rupert splutters, complaining and tossing out more insults the entire time, but he doesn’t fight them any further. He jumps out of his chair and stalks to the guest room to collect his things right away. 

Rationally, Stede knows that he should probably hang back to make sure that he leaves without further incident or, at the very least, start to explain to Ed what happened. But he’s so angry that he feels like he’s about to vibrate right out of his skin and he can’t even fathom trying to calmly explain the situation so, in a move that he’ll later admit was a bit melodramatic, he marches into his and Ed’s bedroom and slams the door behind him without another word. 

…

As soon as Stede has a couple of minutes to himself to take a few deep breaths, his anger starts to subside immediately and is quickly replaced by regret. He can hear muffled words from beyond the door and he feels bad for leaving Ed to deal with evicting an angry, vile customer all by himself. And the more he thinks about it, the more he starts to feel bad about letting his anger get the best of him too. 

The inn was Ed’s dream for the two of them and Rupert was only customer number three. They just started and need good reviews now more than ever. What if he bad mouths them and it ruins any future business they might get?

He doesn’t regret standing up for Ed but maybe he should’ve slowed down and at least let Ed lead the conversation. Maybe it could’ve been dealt with in a way that didn’t end in losing business. 

Selfish, Stede thinks and suddenly, Rupert’s voice is back in his ear again too. Pathetic¸ it hisses. 

The anger slowly eases out of him and guilt begins to take its place. It settles there and turns his stomach to lead. 

By the time Ed opens their door and comes to sit beside him on the edge of their bed, Stede feels completely twisted up inside and near tears. He can’t even bring himself to turn his head and meet Ed’s gaze. He continues to look down at his hands, folding them tightly together in his lap, as he quietly tells Ed, “I’m so sorry.”

He still isn’t looking at Ed, but he can feel him physically startle at Stede’s apology. “What are you apologizing for?” Ed asks, utterly confused. “From what I saw, you were just defending me. I should be thanking you.” Ed pauses for a moment, taking in the tense set of Stede’s shoulders, and says, “But I think there’s more to the story, isn’t there?”

Stede takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before replying, “He had been making these snide comments all day, taking pot shots at us and the inn. He definitely got under my skin, but I was trying to keep it together for the sake of customer service. But then he made that rude comment about you, and I just snapped.”

Stede didn’t think that Ed would chastise him or tell him that he did anything wrong, but he had at least thought he’d be disappointed in how things played out. But instead, Ed’s response is an emphatic, “What a dick!” And it surprises Stede enough that he finally lifts his chin to meet Ed’s eye.

“I’m sorry. If I had known he was such an asshole, I would’ve never left you alone with him,” Ed continues. “Why didn’t you kick him out sooner? Or come get me if you felt you needed backup?”

Stede flounders for an answer. After having so thoroughly working himself up with his guilt over the situation, Ed’s response feels like someone’s ripped the rug out from under his feet. 

“Because he was a guest!” Stede exclaims, trying to make Ed understand. “I was trying to keep him happy.”

“Look, I get that customers are going to bitch about stuff sometimes,” Ed replies, tone matter of fact, and with an expression that brooks no arguments. “But this is our home, Stede. No one gets to disrespect you in your own home.”

Ed takes him in for a moment, looking at Stede’s hunched shoulder and his pinched brow, and he instantly softens. He reaches out to gently tuck a lock of hair behind Stede’s ear.

“No one should disrespect you at all,” Ed says, softer than his last statement but just as fierce. “And if they do, they’re idiots and you certainly don’t owe them any of your time or energy.”

This is the fundamental difference between the two of them. Ed loves Stede and, despite feeling like they’ve known each other much longer, he has only known him for a small fraction of his life. To Ed, someone disparaging Stede’s taste or calling him an idiot and pathetic is hugely out of bounds. To Stede, it’s just another day. 

Not wanting to make a bigger deal out of it than he needs to, especially when Stede has a feeling that they’d just end up talking in circles all night, Stede decides to change tracks. Instead, he admits a simpler truth, saying “I just want to be a good innkeeper. I want you to have the inn that you dreamed of. I want everything to be perfect for you.”

“You are, babe,” Ed says, reaching out to take Stede’s hand in his. “And this is everything I dreamed of. You make it perfect just by being here, Stede.”

He remembers how hopeful he felt writing letter after letter to Ed while they were separated. Hopeful that they’d be reunited soon, hopeful that Ed would find his letters and accept his apologies, and even hopeful that, maybe, one day Ed might say some lovely things to him in return. It’s overwhelming to realize that he lives in a reality where his own hopes and dreams keep coming true, over and over again each day. He doesn’t feel worthy. 

Ed swoops in and presses a kiss to each of Stede’s temples, willing the tears lingering in the corners of his eyes away. “Don’t cry, love,” he says. “Unless they’re mournful tears over the loss of that bottle of wine. The look of his face was worth it, but it was a high price to pay.”

It startles a laugh out of Stede, Ed’s intended goal based on the smile he gets in return. And, for now, it’s enough to distract him from all the different emotions swirling around inside him.

Stede’s not entirely sure that he believes Ed. It’s not that he doesn’t think that Ed means what he says, but he just can’t fathom it. Knowing that Ed loves him is different than understanding why he does, especially when the wounds Rupert reopened are so fresh. 

But Ed is looking at him with his big brown eyes full of love and adoration as he leans in to take Stede into his arms and, for now, that’s enough. 

…

Stede is in a jungle. 

It’s nearly pitch black, but he would recognize this place anywhere with the number of times he’s replayed the moments he spent there over and over again in his head. His heart starts thumping in his chest and his breath starts coming faster as panic starts to set in. His hands tremble and his knees wobble as he spins in place – terrified but unable to stop looking for what he knows comes next. For a moment all he can see is a blur of shadows and muted greenery. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he catches some movement. He turns towards it with a yelp, throwing his hands up to protect himself, only to realize that it isn’t what he thought he’d find. 

He looks closer, squinting into the dark, and is shocked to find Rupert, the rude guest, sitting on a tree stump. He looks at Stede with all the contempt in the world, red wine spilled down his front, and spits out a single, “ Pathetic .”

Stede hasn’t consciously thought of him since the night he left over a week ago. The word still cuts him like a knife. So, Stede runs, abruptly turning on his heel and charging in the other direction. Somewhere along the way, Stede thinks he hears the murmur of a familiar, rumbling voice calling out to him and he wants to run towards it. I just have to get to the dock, he thinks. I need to go to him this time. I need to tell him how I feel.  

But Stede runs and runs and runs and it doesn’t get him anywhere. He just finds himself carried deeper and deeper into the jungle. But he’s frantic at this point and he can’t make himself stop. He continues to propel himself forward until he smacks into something so hard that he’s nearly knocked off his feet. He manages to catch himself before he falls completely but he still stumbles. As he rights himself, he looks up to see what he ran into and sees the face of his father looming over him. “Weak-hearted,” he shouts, just as angry and sneering as Stede remembers him.  “Soft-handed, lily-livered little rich boy! ”

Stede turns from him with a terrified wail that quickly turns into an outright scream when his eyes finally land on what he had feared he’d encounter from the very beginning. 

Chauncey Badminton stands before Stede with his gun trained on him, just like he did on that night all those months ago. But this isn’t Chauncey as Stede had known him. This Chauncey is grotesque, staring at him with one blank eye while the other half of his face is a mangled mess, butchered and torn apart by a bullet from his own gun. 

“Stede Bonnet,” he growls, pressing his gun even closer into Stede’s space. “The monster. You think you can run from the truth? You think you can just live happily ever after? How much longer do you think you have before he wakes up and leaves you again?”

Every word he says feels like a punch to the gut. Every cell in his body is consumed with fear and guilt. He knows that listening to this man previously only made things worse, only lead to actions that deeply hurt someone he loves. But those thoughts fade into the background, overwritten by the chant of You’re a monster. You’re a monster. You’re a monster , playing on repeat in his head. 

When Chauncey raises his gun to Stede’s face, he barely flinches. Chauncey pulls the trigger, the gun going off with an ear-piercing bang and a cloud of smoke. 

Stede wakes up.

The world comes back to him in pieces. He feels the soft fabric of the bed sheets below his palms and then hears the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the shore through the open window. His hands tremble as he lifts them to his chest, which is wet and cold from where the sweat has soaked through his nightshirt and has started to cool. When he lifts his hands up even further to his face, he feels wetness there too from the tears he’s shed. 

Finally, Stede takes in Ed, who hovers over him uncertainly. His hands are suspended in midair, roving listlessly, like he’s desperate to touch Stede but doesn’t know if it would be welcome. His face, illuminated by the moonlight alone, is stricken and pinched with worry.

The sight of him is enough for Stede to fully process that he’s safe, that it was all just a dream, that he’s home. The panic leaves him in a rush, but he still can’t stop trembling, awash with a myriad of different emotions churning around in his gut. 

“Stede,” Ed says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stede, are you okay? You were crying and shouting in your sleep.”

Stede isn’t sure how to answer that question. He isn’t even sure that if he opened his mouth right now, that any sound would come out. The dream had been so vivid and Stede is still reeling from it. 

His days with Ed are so busy and leave him feeling so content that he hardly ever finds his mind wandering back to that night. Stede had actually thought that he’d finally started to put it behind him completely. Apparently, his subconscious disagrees. 

Ed only becomes more and more visibly panicked the longer that Stede stays silent. He gives into the urge to touch Stede, laying a hand gently against his neck and rubbing his thumb soothingly against Stede’s jaw. “Stede, please talk to me,” he begs. “What’s wrong?”

Stede forces his lips to move, wanting to reassure Ed. “I-” Stede starts, his voice coming out in a croak. He’s not sure what to say or how to sum up everything that he’s feeling now, so he decides to start with the obvious. “I had a nightmare.”

Ed lets out a breath of relief at hearing Stede speak but it does nothing to ease how worried he looks. He’s still stroking his thumb against Stede’s jaw in the same, easy rhythm but Stede can see that he has a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ed asks. “What can I do to help?”

 Stede wants to comfort him. He wants to tell Ed that it was just something terrifying but innocuous, like being swallowed by a whale or mauled by a jaguar, and that they can go back to sleep and pretend it never happened. 

But the truth is that it wasn’t and all the lingering fear and guilt and self-loathing that he felt in the dream is still washing over him in unrelenting waves so great that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s all so much, it feels physically heavy like someone is sitting on his chest. 

His mind goes back to the night that they talked about Ned Low. He thinks of Ed telling him that sometimes they’re going to have hard conversations and how, while it had been painful, they’d both ended up feeling lighter for it in the end. Ironically, he thinks that’s when he had last thought of Chauncey. It was when he had thought I should just tell Ed what happened before he ultimately decided not to. 

He still doesn’t want to talk to Ed about it but the longer he sits with this, the more he thinks that ignoring it again and shoving down these big emotions will only end up with it blowing up in his face. 

He’s scared, maybe even more terrified than he had been in the dream, to bring that night back up, to hurt Ed further, to remind him of all of Stede’s faults. But this is part of Ed’s story too, one that Stede’s kept from him for longer than he should have. 

And Ed is looking at him with such concern, asking Stede to let him help. Underneath it all, Stede is shocked to find that he wants it. He wants someone to help him make all these heavy things feel a bit lighter. 

Stede decides to be brave one more time. 

“I think,” he starts slowly, easing into it. “I think that what happened with Rupert affected me more than I thought. He dredged up some memories that I’d thought I’d left behind.”

“Rupert?” Ed asks, confused. “That guy that we kicked out for being a dick?”

“Yeah,” Stede confirms, swallowing against a flood of nerves. He knows that he can’t beat around the bush any longer. Steeling himself, he pushes himself up into a sitting position. It knocks Ed’s hand away from his cheek, but Ed is quick to move his hand to Stede’s knee instead. The simple touch anchors Stede and he leans into it as he takes a deep breath and says, “Do you remember what you said about hard conversations? The night we talked about Ned Low?”

Ed freezes at that. He’s just as confused as before, looking at Stede with a look of pure bewilderment, but Stede can tell that he’s frightened now too, and it only adds to the churning, nauseous feeling in his gut. 

Eventually, Ed nods and Stede braces himself before saying, “I think we have to have another one.”  

“Okay,” Ed agrees, though Stede can tell by the way he trails off that he’s taken him off guard and he’s struggling to make sense of how they ended up here. “If that’s what you need, of course we can. But I have to admit that I’m a little lost here. Does this have to do with the nightmare?”

“Yes,” Stede says. “Rupert, the nightmare – it’s all connected. And it all has to do with the night I left, the night I was supposed to meet you at the dock. Something else happened that night.”

Ed’s eyes go wide as saucers as Stede’s words hang in the air between them. He hates subjecting Ed to this emotional whiplash. But now the words are out there, and unless Ed draws a line in the sand and refuses to hear it, Stede has to see this through. 

It takes him a while but eventually Ed gives him a little nod, and whispers a shaky, “Okay.”

Stede feels parched, mouth dry and tongue heavy with fear and adrenaline. But he clears his throat and forces himself to continue. “I already told you that I was scared because we were moving so fast and that’s true. But, even so, I had still planned on meeting you that night. When someone came to wake me up, I thought it was your man coming to bring me to you. But it wasn’t. Instead, I woke to find Chauncey Badminton, drunk and out of his mind with rage, pointing a gun in my face.”

Ed gasps at that and the hand that’s still on Stede’s knee tightens so hard that his knuckles go white. But he doesn’t stop Stede, giving him a silent nod to continue. 

“He marched me into the jungle,” Stede says, voice strained as he fights back a fresh round of tears at remembering it. “And he told me-” Stede has to stop for a moment, too overcome to finish the thought, before he takes one last deep breath and finally makes himself say the words. “He said that I was a monster and that I defiled beautiful things. That I ruin everything I touch. I had ruined my family. I had ruined his brother.” Stede pauses, making himself look Ed in the eye. “And then, he said I had ruined you. That’s what I dreamt of tonight.”

Ed still doesn’t speak but his expression speaks volumes for him. His mouth is pressed together into a thin line and Stede can tell that he’s gritting his teeth, that he’s angry. But, as always, his eyes give him away.  His eyes, big and wet and fierce, are the saddest that Stede’s ever seen them. He looks as close to tears as Stede feels. 

“The only reason I made it out alive was because he tripped over a tree root and ended up shooting himself in the head right there in front of me,” Stede says. “But the damage was done. I already felt so guilty about getting you wrapped up in the Act of Grace and I was so knotted up about my own feelings and fears that what he said made sense. I was a monster, and I couldn’t let myself hurt you anymore. So, I ran and ran until I found myself back in Bridgetown. It wasn’t long afterwards that I realized that I was in love with you and that I had made a massive mistake. And once I knew that, I had to find my way back to you and beg your forgiveness. You know the rest.”

With his story complete, Stede feels completely hollowed out and empty inside. It’s like the words took all the sadness and fear with them as they left his body. Yet, when Ed speaks, voice gravelly and drenched in sorrow, Stede feels a fresh tug at his heart.

“Stede ,” Ed breathes, “Why didn’t you tell me ? You could-you could’ve-”

Ed can’t bring himself to finish the thought, but Stede understands what he means. You could’ve died, is what he wants to say. You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known. You could’ve died and I would have kept burning the world down, thinking that I was unlovable, when you had died loving me.

“When we were first reunited, you had just come back from a near death experience. You weren’t well. And then you were, rightfully, so mad at me on top of that. I didn’t want to rehash it and I didn’t want to make it seem like I was making excuses,” Stede explains. He whispers the next part, ashamed to even admit it. “I also didn’t want to hear you say that he had been right. Not that I had ruined you, but that I had ruined any chance of there being an us.”

And lingering anger in Ed’s expression falls away at Stede’s last confession. He’s still sad, still looks on the verge of tears, but when he speaks, he does so with such tenderness and love that Stede can barely take it. “He was wrong,” Ed says, the words strong with his conviction. “Stede, he was wrong.”

“I know that, now,” Stede says. “Or at least, in my head I do. I know that the two of us loving each other is right. And I’m so proud of all the progress we’ve made and what we’ve built together. We could never have gotten here if he was right. But in my heart…” Stede hesitates for a moment, tears finally spilling over again at the next words he has to say. “I thought I knew that in my heart too. But then when Rupert came along, he just reminded me of all the people in my life that had spoken down to me and resented me. You’re the first person to ever look at me and like what he saw, Ed. And I suppose that deep down, I can’t understand how I could ever deserve you. I’m still always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Stede’s gaze is hazy with tears now, so much so that he can barely make out Ed in front of him. But he can feel him, the heat from his body as he presses closer against his side and the press of his fingers as he reaches up to wipe his tears away. 

“Oh, love,” Ed says, voice thick and eyes wet with his own tears. “I know that bad and ugly thoughts about yourself are difficult to shake, believe me, I do. And I know that whatever I say right now isn’t going to make them go away overnight. But Stede, you don’t ruin people. You make people better. You made me better.” 

Ed pauses for a moment, placing a finger under Stede’s chin to lift his face up and ensure that they’re eye to eye before he continues.  “Before I met you, I was so done with the world. I felt like-like,” Ed’s voice hitches for a moment. He pauses to collect himself before continuing, “Like I was speaking a language that no one else spoke. And it was tiring and frustrating and so fucking lonely. But then I met you and immediately,” Ed lifts a hand up and snaps. “It was like magic. You made me excited to be alive again. And you still do, every single day.”

Stede didn’t know that it was possible to feel so loved that the magnitude of it humbled you. And yet, here he is, in absolute awe of the gift he’s been given. 

He can’t help but think of how similar he feels to Ed, how it seems like Ed’s just parroting his own story back to him. The loneliness and the isolation. Their instant bond. How different it feels to live life with the other in it. These are all beats from a familiar narrative and while Ed is right in that they can’t undo a life’s worth of self-doubt in a single night, it’s immensely soothing to be reminded of just how much they mean to each other. 

“You too,” Stede says, managing a smile for the first time since he’d woken up. “You made me excited to be alive too. Maybe for the first time in my life.”

Ed returns his smile at that, a huge, happy thing that cuts through the tears, and Stede’s relief is instantaneous. Yet another weight that he didn’t realize he’d been carrying is lifted. Just knowing that Ed knows the truth and that he doesn’t hate him for it and hearing Ed’s words of reassurance is enough to rob the memories of that night of their power over Stede. 

Outside the night fades away and the sun rises over the horizon, bringing with it a new day that they start in each other’s arms. 

…

One of the many small, everyday things that Stede’s come to take comfort in, surprisingly, are all the now familiar noises that the house makes as people move through it. It may seem like nothing but there’s a comfort in having been here long enough to recognize the creak the front porch makes when Ed climbs up the steps or the way that the hinges on their bedroom door squeak. 

It’s also extremely helpful when, on nights like tonight, Ed thinks that he can sneak up on Stede while he’s folding linens. Stede still gasps, playing along when a pair of hands sneak around him from behind before moving up to cover his eyes, but he’d heard Ed’s familiar footsteps coming from a mile away. 

“Whoever could it be?” Stede asks, trying to affect a coy and coquettish tone. 

He can feel Ed’s huff of laughter against his neck in response. “Are there many men who come into your bedroom and put their hands over your eyes?”

“Hmmm,” Stede hums, pretending to contemplate the question. He waits to see if Ed will take the bait and maybe tease Stede back in return. But Ed doesn’t fall for it, and he doesn’t move his hands either, sticking to whatever plan he had when he came in here. 

“No,” Stede says with a feigned put upon sigh. “Now that you mention it, I suppose that there is just the one.” 

“I have a surprise for you,” Ed says, without any further preamble. 

Stede’s interest is immediately piqued. The fact that Ed’s eager enough to get right to the point makes it even more intriguing. So Stede doesn’t ask any further questions, he just says, “Well, then lead the way,” and tries not to trip over anything as Ed guides him out into the main room. 

The inn isn’t big to begin with and, by now, Stede knows it like the back of his hand. He knows that they’re in the kitchen area right away and when Ed moves his hands away, with a little ta-da! , Stede doesn’t notice anything amiss at first. Their cupboards and countertops are all neat and in order. Their guests for the week are exactly in the same place Stede last saw them, sitting at the dining table chatting and passing the time until dinner. If they are alarmed by the fact that Ed just trotted Stede past them with his eyes covered, they don’t show it. 

Stede’s just about to ask what he’s missing when Ed, having run out of patience, says, “Look down!”

Stede looks down at the counter in front of them and is only more perplexed when he finds himself looking straight into a bowl of salad. 

It’s not even a particularly fancy salad either. Ed’s made more elaborate meals over the past few weeks, really getting into the swing of things. It’s just a bit of lettuce thrown into a bowl with diced tomato and bell pepper. Stede’s not even sure that it’s enough to feed both them and their guests. 

But Ed is obviously excited about it. He’s looking at Stede with giddy anticipation, barely holding back a massive grin. Stede’s not too sure what’s got him so jazzed about this salad, but he decides that there’s no harm in playing along. If Ed is excited, so is Stede. 

“It’s a lovely salad,” Stede says, mustering up all the enthusiasm he can. “Very…uh, fresh?”

There’s something about the way Ed nods encouragingly at him as he says it, soaking up Stede’s words like they’re the highest of praise, that makes it all start to make sense. Tomatoes. Lettuce. Bell Pepper.

“Oh Ed,” Stede says, his hand shooting out to grasp Ed’s bicep as all the pieces finally fall into place. This time the enthusiasm behind Stede’s words isn’t just for show. “This is all from your garden, isn’t it?”

Ed nods wildly and finally lets the grin he’s been holding back burst free, lighting up his entire face. “Yep,” Ed confirms. “The literal fruits and vegetables of our labor!”

The vegetables they planted have only just started to get big and ripe enough to pick within the past few days. They had started with a single tomato three days ago and two small peppers the day before. But this is different, this is enough for a whole dish, and Ed is beaming with pride.  

“Not our labor. Yours. All I did was help get you set up and you did the rest. And it’s absolutely lovely,” Stede says, and he means it with his whole heart. Suddenly, this is the best salad he’s ever seen.

Ed preens at the praise and moves to open the drawer behind them. He pulls out two forks and hands one to Stede. 

When Stede takes the fork in his hand, Ed brings his own over to clink against Stede’s as if they were clinking glasses together in a toast. “To another skill for the resume,” Ed says and with Stede’s hearty “Hear, hear!” in agreement, they both dive in. 

Objectively, it’s nothing special. That doesn’t stop the two of them from gushing over it like it’s the best thing they’ve ever eaten.  

“My God,” Stede says, stunned. “I think that this may just be the finest produce I’ve ever eaten.”

“Let’s close the inn,” Ed says, eyes twinkling. “I think we need to be farmers now.”

They both giggle and dig in for some more, exchanging increasingly dramatic compliments with every bite. They’re so content, thoroughly enjoying both the food and each other’s company, that they both startle when they hear a gentle “Ahem,” from the other side of the counter. 

They both snap to attention, turning their faces towards the source of the noise. They turn to find their guests, still sitting at the dining room table, looking between their hosts and the salad expectantly. 

Stede had been enjoying himself so much that he’d actually forgotten that they were there.

“Will you be serving dinner tonight?” the guest asks. “Or should we come over and make a plate?”

She asks the question politely enough and it’s fair to ask, what with them waiting patiently while Ed and Stede stuff their faces five feet away. Stede knows that he should be ashamed, that he should be rushing to apologize and hurry to get them their food. But honestly, all he feels is annoyed that his and Ed’s moment had been disrupted. Based on Ed’s eyeroll, he feels the same. 

They manage to collect themselves and serve their guests without too much grumbling. They make it through the rest of the night without incident. 

But later that night, when they’re all snuggled up in bed and nearly asleep, the last thing Ed says before they nod off is, “Farmers don’t get interrupted by needy customers. Think about it, babe.”

Stede breathes a sleepy chuckle in response before promptly falling asleep. 

…

From the moment he wakes up, Stede knows that this is going to be a bad day. He knows before he even opens his eyelids. 

The turn from summer to fall has brought cooler weather with it, cool enough that they leave their windows cracked open most nights to let in the breeze. But there’s no cool breeze this morning. A dense fog has rolled in off the sea, hanging heavy and gray in the air, and it’s accompanied by a thick, oppressive wave of humidity. 

Stede realizes that they’d kicked off their blanket in the night and yet they’re still laying in a puddle of sweat, hair plastered to their foreheads. Even the simple act of sitting up in bed feels like Stede is moving through soup. 

The second sign that the day isn’t going to be easy is that Ed is still in bed.  

After a lifetime of early morning watches, Ed is a natural early riser. Stede used to feel guilty about sleeping in while Ed got a head start to the day, but Ed’s assured him that he actually enjoys it. He likes having an extra hour or so of quiet time to himself in the morning to take in the sunrise and tend to his garden and bring fresh flowers to Izzy. 

Stede looks over to find Ed twisted up in the sheets, clearly not asleep, but laying there with his eyes pinched close and in clear agony.

“What’s wrong?” Stede asks, head imaging a million different terrible scenarios. “Are you sick?”

Ed doesn’t answer or even open his eyes to meet Stede’s anxious gaze. He merely grumbles, shuffling around for a comfortable position for a moment before giving up with a huff. 

When Stede reaches out to place a gentle hand on Ed’s shoulder, he flinches at his touch, and it nearly cleaves Stede’s heart in half to see it. It’s a feeling that only intensifies when Ed snaps, “Don’t touch!”

Stede rips his hand away, feeling awful and wondering if he’s accidentally hurt Ed in some way. He’s about to pepper Ed with a new round of questions when Ed brings a hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a frustrated sound. 

“Everything hurts,” he explains. “My bad knee is the worst but when the weather is like this, all my joints swell up and…” He pauses, looking for a more eloquent way to explain how he’s feeling but his brain is too foggy to find the words. He just repeats, “And everything hurts,” with a deep sigh. 

Stede asks how he can help and if there’s anything that he can do to make him feel better. Ed just waves him off and tells him to leave him alone to rest. Stede feels completely useless and his heart aches to see Ed in pain but, trusting that Ed knows his body best, he leaves him to rest and starts his day. 

Any hope that the day will get better from there quickly goes out the window. 

When their newest group of guests walk in and Stede sees the instruments they’re carrying, Stede is originally heartened. They explain that they’re traveling musicians on their way east for a show and ask politely if Stede minds if they get some practice in.

Stede encourages them heartily, thinking that maybe some good music is all that they need to distract them from the horrible heat and humidity. 

All it takes is for them to play two notes before Stede realizes what a terrible mistake he’s made. 

Stede didn’t even know it was possible to create sounds like the noises coming out of their instruments. Every note is pitchy, screeching torture. It’s so horrific that Stede wants to ask them where exactly this show is supposed to be happening just so he can write ahead and tell the proprietors to not even let them in the door. 

The noise is so bad and so grating that it rouses Ed from bed. He stalks into the room, moving stiffly from pain and filled with fury, surely expecting to find a dying animal or some sort of awful, broken piece of machinery. When he sees the musicians instead, Stede has to physically put himself between them and Ed to keep him from grabbing their lutes and horns and breaking them over his knee. 

He manages to convince Ed to go out and take a short walk and tend the garden. He can’t help the weather, but he hopes that moving might help loosen up his joints and gardening usually always helps soothe him. 

The musicians don’t let up for a moment. They practice for the entire day without a break. Even when they eat, they do so in turns so that at least one of them is plucking out some awful tune at all times. Stede’s already halfway to insanity by the time Ed comes back. 

Ed storms through the door, soaked in sweat and hissing and spitting like an enraged cat. Stede can barely hear the few words that he gets out over the ruckus around them but from what he gleans, before Ed goes back to their room and slams the door behind him, some sort of pest had gotten to his tomato plants and had eaten them up. 

By the time the day ends and Stede is cleaning up from dinner, he’s not sure if he wants to scream or cry. The musicians have finally taken a break from their playing to get ready for bed, but the heat is still in full force, even with the sun having set. Ed emerged from their room when he heard the music stop and is trying his best to help Stede clean up, but his stiff gait has turned into a full limp at this point and it pains Stede to watch him struggle. 

“Darling,” Stede says, trying to be as gentle and compassionate as possible. “I appreciate that you’re trying to help but I can see you’re still in pain. Why don’t you just go back to bed? I can handle the rest.”

The look Ed gives him in return is laced with nothing but annoyance and contempt. “I’m not an invalid,” he growls petulantly. 

At the end of his rope, Stede just barely suppresses an eyeroll. Instead, he tries to be gentle once again, walking over to where Ed is struggling to carry a stack of plates over to their basin to be washed. “I don’t think you are,” Stede says. “I know how strong you are. But right now, I think you need a break.”

Stede goes to grab the plates from Ed’s hands, trying to tug them away. Ed stays just as stubborn, digging his heels in and pulling the dishes back toward him with a churlish, “I’m fine!” 

They continue to struggle for a moment, going back and forth making the same arguments over and over in a loop until finally, Stede’s hand slips and all of the plates crash to the floor and shatter with a resounding bang. 

For a moment, there is nothing but silence. Stede doesn’t even think that they breathe. He can see Ed’s eyes roving all over him, wide with horror as he checks Stede over for injuries, and it softens Stede’s ire. He’s so relieved, thinking that Ed’s finally seen sense and is done fighting him. 

But even that relief isn’t long lived. Stede can’t even get out a simple, “I’m okay,” before Ed’s expression is shuttered again. Ed gives one final, “Fuck!” before he turns on his heel and stomps back into their bedroom for the second time today. 

Stede cleans up the broken plates and drags himself to bed. He’s not sure if he’ll even be welcome after the day they’ve had. But their guest room is already full, with both beds taken and cots laid out on the floor in between them to accommodate the entire band. Stede has no other choice. 

And I refuse to be kicked out of my own bed because Ed’s decided to have a temper tantrum, Stede thinks, feeling plenty petulant and surly himself at this point. 

When Stede gets into bed, Ed is clearly still awake. He’s lying stiffly on the far edge of his side of the bed and his eyes are wide open, staring straight up at the ceiling. He makes no attempt to move closer as Stede settles in, leaving a good foot of space between them. 

It feels wrong and awkward and terrible, but Stede doesn’t know what to say to make it right between them. It’s been a cursed day from the very start, and he feels like any attempt he makes to try to make it better will only backfire. Stede resigns himself to his fate with a sigh and closes his eyes in an attempt to try and sleep. He tries to convince himself that it’ll all be better in the morning. They’ll talk it through, and it’ll all be okay. 

Stede’s hasn’t even had his eyes closed for a full minute when they hear it. 

Through the wall, clear as day, comes the steady plunk plunk plunk of a horrendously out of tune, poorly played lute. 

Stede’s eyes fly open, slightly convinced that he’s finally lost his mind. He can’t possibly be hearing what he thinks he’s hearing. But when Ed hisses out, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! ” between clenched teeth, Stede knows that this is, unfortunately, all too real. 

The covers on Ed’s side of the bed fly up as Ed catapults himself out of bed. “Be right back,” he snarls, hair flying about and eyes wild. “I just have to go strangle that guy real quick.”

Honestly, after the day they’ve had, Stede briefly considers letting him. But in the end, reason wins out and Stede pulls himself out of bed and shouts, “Stand down, Edward!” in his best captain’s voice. 

It’s the same thing he told Ed the night of the boat party when he’d been ready to go after all those awful people. Stede hopes it’ll work again, especially if it jogs that memory in his brain. The night had started off rough but had ended sweetly. Maybe there’s still some potential to save this night too. 

Ed pauses at the door at Stede’s words, his hand resting on the knob. For a moment, Stede isn’t sure if it will work. But then, Ed turns to him, and while he still looks angry, he doesn’t make another move to leave the room.

As Stede looks at him closer, he starts to see past the angry façade. With sagging shoulders and bags under his eyes, Ed looks bone tired and absolutely miserable. 

The lurching, terrible music continues to play in the background. 

“Come here,” Stede says, firm but gentle. He opens his arms wide, beckoning Ed over. 

At first, he isn’t sure if Ed will come. He actually thinks it’s more likely that he won’t. 

But, in a turn that’s the first thing that’s gone right today, Ed eventually moves away from the door and meets Stede on the other side of the bed. 

Once he stands in front of him, Stede takes Ed’s hands in his own, as tender as possible. “Now,” Stede whispers, carefully raising Ed’s arms and looping them around Stede’s waist. “This is the first time we’ve had music in a good long while and, as bad as it is, I am owed a dance after our last one was so rudely interrupted.”

Ed’s eyes go wide with shock at Stede’s words and Stede can see that he’s gearing up to fight him some more. “If you’re in too much pain we can stop.” Stede says, cutting him off before he can even start. “But, if not, just dance with me,” Stede pleads.   

Stede isn’t sure what does it but there’s something in Stede’s plea that gets through to Ed. Stede can see it in Ed’s eyes as all his anger and frustration melts away in favor of pure, unadulterated affection. He doesn’t say anything further, letting Stede wrap his arms around Ed in turn and guide them into a slow shuffle. 

They start off stiff and awkward, but they ease into the dance bit by bit and within a few minutes, Ed is fully leaning into Stede with his face buried in the crook of Stede’s neck. Stede happily takes his weight. Yes, Stede thinks, don’t fight me. Lean on me. Take what you need. 

When Ed finally speaks, the words are whispered into Stede’s neck, but Stede still hears them perfectly. 

“I’m sorry I was such a massive asshole today,” Ed says. “I know you were just trying to help, and I let the heat and the pain and the noise wind me up so much that I couldn’t see that when I was in it.”

The last bit of anxiety weighing Stede down dissolves at Ed’s apology and he can’t help but nuzzle into Ed’s hair affectionately. “It’s okay,” Stede says. “It was just a bad day. They happen sometimes. I’m sure that I'll have my fair share too.”

Ed doesn’t lift his head away from Stede’s shoulder, but he can feel his brow furrow in confusion through the fabric of his nightshirt. “It’s not okay though,” Ed says, shaking his head against Stede. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you today.”

“Yeah,” Stede says with a shrug. His words are simple and matter of fact. “But you apologized, and I accepted it. I know you’ll try not to do it again. Tomorrow will be better.”

“Stede ,” Ed breathes and Stede doesn’t know how Ed manages to pack so much emotion into a single syllable. Love, desperation, anxiety, relief – they’re all pouring off of Ed in waves, in his breath against Stede’s cheek and in his fingers feverishly pulling Stede closer. 

“Ed, you’ve always got me, no matter what,” Stede says fervently. His fingers dig into Ed’s sides through his nightclothes, trying to anchor him and reassure him through touch alone. “I’ll love you on the good days. I’ll love you on the bad days. And I’ll love you on all the in-between days too.”

Stede can feel the fabric of his nightshirt where Ed’s face rests go damp. Stede just holds him closer, so close that they’re not swaying anymore, just clutching onto each other, and whispers sweetly in his ear. 

A cool breeze finds its way through their open window. 

…

Stede doesn’t think he’s ever seen a case of sunburn this bad before. 

The fog and humidity of the week before had finally cleared away but temperatures during the day were still unseasonably high. The sun hangs heavy in the cloudless sky, making it unbearable to be outside for more than a few minutes at a time. 

Between keeping busy inside the inn and sticking to the shade, Stede and Ed had managed to avoid getting too much sun. However, their recent guest hadn’t been so lucky. 

His name is Orville and he’s a young researcher that’s traveling from up north. He has a particular interest in shallow water aquatic life and can talk about sea anemones for an amount of time that challenges the limits of even Stede’s thirst for knowledge. All in all, he’s very sweet, but also very unprepared for the intensity of the Caribbean sun. 

After he’d left the inn to go exploring that morning, chattering about intertidal zones and species of starfish, Stede had the passing thought that maybe he should’ve given the man a warning about the sun. He only lingered over it for a moment before shrugging it off. Ed had suggested going for a swim to try and beat the heat and he found that to be a much more interesting prospect. 

When Stede and Ed returned from their swim, damp and giggly and wrapped around each other, they hadn’t expected Orville to even be back yet. They had been very wrong.

They found him half keeled over on the settee in the main room, moaning in pain and with skin a shade of red that Stede had previously never seen occur in nature outside of a boiled lobster. Stede and Ed tried their best to help him, applying some salves from their first aid kit and plying him with as much water as possible. 

Stede started out pretty sympathetic but, as it turns out, Orville’s sweet disposition is apparently the first thing to go out the window when under duress. 

“Well,” Stede says as he gets up off the settee with a sigh and moves to stand beside Ed, having helped Orville apply the last cream available in their first aid kit. “That’s all we have. Hopefully that’ll help.”

Even as burnt and blistered as he is, Orville manages to summon a look so vicious that Stede thinks that he might just be trying to kill him with his gaze alone. “What do you mean that’s all we have !” Orville snarls, “I am in pain !”

Stede and Ed share a quick look, shrugging at each other as they both come up short on any ideas on how to help further. 

“Sorry, mate,” Ed says, going to pat Orville on the shoulder in a comforting gesture before thinking better of it at the last second and drawing his hand back. “Your skin’s all fucked up. You’re just going to have to wait for it to heal.”

“That’s not good enough!” Orville screeches. This time his outburst is accompanied by an angry little kick of his feet too, like a large toddler. 

Stede and Ed share another look. This one is less questioning and more conspiratorial. Stede can hear Ed’s voice in his head saying, ‘this fucking guy, huh?’ based on the crook of his eyebrow alone.  

“Uh…” Stede says, searching his mind for a solution. After a moment, his mind pulls forth a hazy memory from a week or so ago that might provide a resolution to Orville’s predicament. Though, he hesitates before putting it forth as an option. 

Stede had been having a lovely day and was very much looking forward to a lazy afternoon with Ed before they’d have to pull themselves together and get back into innkeeper mode for dinner. And between Orville’s sour attitude and the loss of their afternoon, Stede finds it hard to motivate himself to leave the house again. 

With a deep sigh and an internal reminder that customer service is important¸ Stede reluctantly says, “Well, I think I remember seeing an aloe plant not too far from here. That could help with the pain.”

“Well then, go get it!” Orville shrieks, practically screaming like he’s near death. 

When Ed shoots Stede a third look, it’s accompanied by a mouthed question. Are you sure?

While he appreciates the concern, he’s made his bed at this point. If he doesn’t go and get the damn aloe at this point, he gets the feeling that Orville will only make both of their lives a living hell for the foreseeable future. Stede waves him off and makes his way towards the door to head out.

Ed, bless him, takes being left alone with Orville in stride. The last thing Stede sees before he walks out the door is Ed dragging a dining chair over to the settee and settling at Orville’s side. 

“You know it really isn’t that bad,” Ed says. “I’ve seen some messed-up skin in my life. There was this guy that I used to sail with that had this huge red thing on his back. It was so big we gave it a name - Mickey. He must’ve had it for years. But then one day, ol’ Mickey burst out of nowhere and, man, that’s where the story really starts!”

…

The thing is, Stede honestly tries to find the aloe plant at first. 

He goes back to the place where he thinks he last saw it and searches high and low. When he still can’t find it, he looks in the surrounding areas for a solid half an hour without any luck. He probably would have kept looking too, except, well…

It starts with a papaya tree. 

The last time Stede and Ed had passed this tree, it was barely four feet tall and was far from producing any fruit. He remembers how Ed had frowned, bemoaning the lack of options they had at home to satisfy his sweet tooth, and mentioned that he’d been craving papaya forever now.

The tree has shot up at least five feet since then and has three ripe papayas hanging from it. So, of course, Stede has to get the papayas for Ed. It takes some time to find a stick long enough to help him knock them down, but he manages it and tucks them into his rucksack with a smile, excited to see Ed’s reaction when he gets back.

He probably would’ve gone back to searching for the aloe after he had the papayas but as he’s walking away from the tree, he spots a yellow elder plant and he’s immediately taken back to his favorite hiding spot as a child. There had been yellow elder there too and it always attracted hummingbirds. He doesn’t know where they’d fit it, but he thinks Ed might like to have it in his garden, so he pauses to take a cutting from the plant to bring back home with him. 

And from there, it’s just one thing after another. He spots a beautiful blue butterfly amongst the yellow elder and takes a moment to admire it and try to remember its scientific name. It takes him a few minutes but eventually he remembers it, exclaiming composia fidelissima into the clearing. 

After the butterfly, Stede wanders for a bit looking for any new plants or wildflowers to tell Ed about or bring home to him. His search eventually leads him down to the beach, where he’s quickly taken in by an abundance of beautiful seashells that have been swept up to shore with the waves. He happily picks through them, picking out a few to display on their mantle. 

It isn’t until he notices the sun starting to set that he realizes that he never actually found the aloe plant. 

Stede mutters a curse under his breath at the realization, looking back into the more wooded area and weighing his options. He could go back and try to find the aloe again. But he doesn’t have a lantern and he’s quickly losing daylight, so Stede makes the decision to go home empty handed. 

Maybe he’ll have calmed down, Stede thinks, trying to stay optimistic. Maybe he’ll have even nodded off for the night already!

Stede isn’t even fully through the door before his hopes are dashed. 

Not only is Orville still wide awake but he and Ed are in the same exact position he left them in. Ed is happily chatting about a man he once knew that developed a rash in the shape of a stingray. Between the sunburn and the anger, Orville’s face is nearly purple, and his brow is twitching so violently that Stede is afraid it might leap right off.

When they hear the front door open, Orville swings to look at Stede with such velocity that Stede flinches at the sight of it. 

“Well?” Orville asks expectantly, a sort of crazed look in his eye. “Where is the aloe?”  

Stede doesn’t want to tell him. Or, at least, he wants Ed to take five big steps away from him before he delivers the bad news in case the man explodes. But he’s waiting on a reply and Stede can’t put it off any longer. 

“So, about the aloe,” Stede starts, trying to keep his voice as light and cheery as possible. “I couldn’t find it. But! I did find some papaya!” 

Orville’s eyebrow spasm somehow gets worse as Stede pulls the papaya from his bag and sets it on the counter. He allows himself two seconds to enjoy Ed’s delighted gasp of ‘oh papaya! ’ before barreling on.  

“And all these shells too! Look,” he says, pulling out one rounded shell in particular. “This one’s a clam shell – you love clams!”

The room goes dead silent. Stede looks at Orville, smiling and holding out the shell with all the enthusiasm he can muster. Orville looks back at him, so still that Stede starts to worry that he may have had some sort of stroke. Ed looks between them, trying to figure if he’ll need to act as a physical barrier between them when Orville finally loses his last shred of sanity. 

“I can’t believe it,” Orville whispers. Stede supposes he should be grateful that he’s not lunging at him, but his hushed tone is somehow more off putting than his screaming was. “You had one job!”

When Orville pushes himself out of his chair in one lurching movement, Ed does spring into action. He edges closer and closer to Stede, watching Orville closely. Stede can see his hand twitch towards the knife at his hip. “Hey man,” Ed says, trying to be reasonable. “Why don’t you just sleep it off? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Orville does lunge towards Stede and Stede catches Ed withdrawing his knife out of the corner of his eye, ready to pounce, but the flurry of movement is over just as soon as it starts. Orville doesn’t go to harm Stede. Instead, he grabs the clam shell from Stede’s hand only to throw it onto the floor and watch it break into a million pieces. 

“You two,” Orville says, coming apart at the seams, “are the worst innkeepers in the world!”

Stede’s first thought is that there is no way that could be true. They keep their inn clean, provide three square meals a day, and try to be amiable. There have to be people who are worse at this out there. 

It still doesn’t feel great as they watch Orville pack his bags and storm out of the inn and into the night in a huff. But there is a relief to getting him out of their space and it feels like they can breathe easier. Ed clearly agrees, saying “Thank fuck that he’s gone. I was nearly fresh out of weird skin stories.”

If the comment about them being bed innkeepers bothered Ed, he does a great job of hiding it. He’s more concerned with the papaya, happily using his knife to chop it up for them to eat. 

While Stede attempts to move on just as happily, he can’t shake the words. It’s not that he puts a lot of weight on the opinion of a man as bizarre and bland as Orville the Shallow Water Aquatic Life Expert. But it hasn’t just been Orville. It was the merchants that ran out early before breakfast and Rupert and the people that had to remind them of their presence before Stede and Ed ate all the salad. For an inn that hadn’t even had a dozen guests yet, the fact that two had either been kicked out or stormed out without paying didn’t seem great. 

Stede tries not to let it eat away at him but it’s still heavy on his mind. Even though Ed had reassured him after the Rupert incident, he can’t help but feel some of that same insecurity start to creep back in. 

He knows that he’s being quieter than usual, letting Ed do most of the talking as they sit down and start to eat. After a few more minutes of only returning Ed’s questions with one syllable answers, Ed finally stops and asks, “What’s the matter, Stede? You seem like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Stede’s not sure how to phrase the question. He doesn’t know how to couch this in nicer terms. So, he just comes out and asks, “Are we bad innkeepers?”

With all of his worries, Stede is caught off guard when Ed snorts, waving off the question immediately. “Don’t pay any mind to what Orville said,” he tells Stede, digging back into his bowl of papaya. “The man was unhinged and not in a fun way.”

Stede gets what he’s saying, and he agrees, but he still can’t shake this feeling gnawing at him. “Yes, but it’s not just been him though, has it?” Stede runs through all the other guest experiences that have gone wrong over the past couple of months, counting them out on his fingers as he goes. 

Having it all laid out gives Ed pause. His eyes go far away for a minute, and he frowns a bit, deep in thought. Stede gives him time to think it through, hoping that Ed isn’t too sorely disappointed. He’s halfway through mentally preparing a pep talk, including a rousing interlude on not giving up on his dreams and a strategy on how they can improve when Ed pipes up to say, “I guess we are?”

He says the words, slow and measured, and they make Stede feel a bit nauseous. He knows that they’ll get through this no matter what but he’s unable to help feeling like he’s let Ed down despite the conversations they’ve had about this already. But even though the words have a negative connotation, Ed doesn’t seem all that bothered by his own confession. In fact, he just looks more thoughtful, propping an elbow up on the table and placing his chin in his hand.   

“Now that you got me thinking about it,” Ed says, thinking back on all of their past experiences with their guests. “I have caught myself thinking ‘why are these people in our home and how quickly can we get them to leave’ more than once.”

There’s something to the honesty of the statement, to the knowledge that they wouldn’t have shared these things with each other so easily four months ago, and to the instant relief of sharing his anxieties without worrying that this is going to be the thing that breaks them apart.

The second their eyes meet across the table, Ed’s confession still hanging in the air, they can’t help but burst into a fit of laughter so strong that it makes their sides ache and tears well up.

When they’re done laughing, Stede feels much lighter and when he asks his next question he does so with a smile on his face. “So, what do we do with that then?” he ponders. “Do you want to try workshopping some customer service scenarios? Or are we too far gone? Is it time to break out those impressive resumes and try something new?”

Ed still looks contemplative, but he returns Stede’s smile, impossibly fond. “We could, if it bothers you,” he says. “But I don’t think this was ever really about being successful. I was incredibly successful at my last job, and it made me miserable. This was never about that. It was always about you and me taking a moment to breathe and build a quiet life together.”

Stede thinks back to when Ed had first suggested the inn after Izzy’s funeral. After their fight and the attack on the Republic and the loss of Izzy, Stede hadn’t even thought twice about it before agreeing. All he wanted was Ed and if being an innkeeper was Ed’s dream, then Stede would embrace it wholeheartedly. He had never stopped to think that being an innkeeper wasn’t actually Ed’s dream or that maybe Ed’s dream was the same as Stede’s and that the inn had always just been a means to get them where they needed to go. 

Maybe the financial viability of this inn will end up just being another item on the list of Stede’s failures. But being with Ed and making him happy is one of the few things that Stede’s desperately wanted to get right. As long as he’s succeeding at that, they can figure the rest out together. 

“So maybe we are bed innkeepers. But I’m so happy, happier than I’ve ever been, being a bad innkeeper and running our subpar inn with you, Stede,” Ed says. He says it with such love and such conviction that it takes Stede’s breath away. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, very much,” Stede replies, heart full, and he finds that he means it with everything he’s got. “You always make Stede happy.”

And in the end, it turns out that's all that really matters.

…

Stede wakes up, warm and cozy, to the feeling of Ed’s hand moving slowly up and down his chest. Stede lets out a hum of contentment as Ed tightens his embrace around his waist and pulls Stede even closer. 

When Stede finally cracks open his eyes, he sees that it’s still incredibly early. He glances out their open window to see the sun just starting to rise over the waves, washing the sky in a pretty smattering of purples and oranges. 

“This is early, even for you,” Stede says, voice rough and croaky from sleep. Ed just burrows into him closer, tucking his face into Stede’s neck.

“Are you complaining?” Ed asks, voice muffled and breath warm against Stede’s neck. 

Stede, most decidedly, is not. 

It takes him a minute of fighting the blanket that had twisted its way around them in their sleep, but soon Stede is facing Ed and happily leaning in to give him a proper kiss. He savors everything about it. The happy little hum Ed makes when their lips meet, the brush of his prickly beard against his chin, the way they slot together from the tops of their foreheads to the tips of their toes. These are the quiet, happy moments Stede lives for. 

They get about ten seconds worth of those moments before they’re interrupted by the now all too familiar screeches of a seagull perched on their windowsill. 

“What the hell, Buttons?” Stede yells, beyond annoyed at the interruption. They still don’t even know if it is Buttons. He and Ed have simply just started calling any seagull they cross paths with Buttons, just in case.

Stede turns to look back towards the window and finds the bird staring at him unflinchingly, continuing to screech at the top of his little lungs. 

Stede’s ire only grows as Ed rolls out of bed, taking all the warmth with him, and moves towards the window. He flops onto his back and buries his head beneath their pillows in an attempt to muffle the sounds of their unwelcome wake up call, grumbling about stupid birds and their stupid timing the entire time.  

“What’s the matter, Buttons?” Ed asks. “What’s got you all riled up?”

He doesn’t hear any further commentary from Ed on what has bothered the bird so. Stede remembers the last time this happened in the garden and thinks that maybe the bird just likes to fuck with him for sport. 

When the screeches stop after a minute, Stede breathes a sigh of relief and carefully removes himself from the pillows. He’s about to lift the covers back up and invite Ed to come back and pick up where they left off, but he stops short when he actually gets a good look at him. 

The seagull has flown away but Ed is still standing in front of the window, gazing out at the horizon with an expression that Stede can’t quite place at first but can tell isn’t good. 

Ed’s eyes are wide and his mouth has gone slack. He looks pale in the dim light of the room, as if all the blood has drained from his face, and he’s trembling in a way that Stede can tell isn’t from the chilled air coming in through the window. 

He’s terrified, Stede finally realizes, like he’s seen a ghost.  

Stede is out of bed and at Ed’s side in an instant. He wraps a comforting arm around him, already saying “It’s alright. You’re okay,” before he even asks, “What’s wrong?”

Ed doesn’t reply, only shakes his head as if he can’t fathom what he’s seeing, with his eyes trained on a particular spot in the distance. 

Stede follows his gaze to find a ship on the horizon, growing bigger as it looms nearer. While their island is quiet, they’re not too far from other, larger ports of trade. It’s not unusual to see ships passing by.

But this ship is markedly different than any trading vessel Stede’s ever seen. For one thing, it’s absolutely massive. It nearly swallows up the sun whole as it moves closer and closer. It rivals even some of the largest naval warships Stede’s seen. 

But it isn't an actual naval ship, which would be a relief if there wasn’t something so terribly eerie about it. It’s made of dark, rough-hewn wood and painted black in spots. It looks like a demon ship from a sailor’s tale, something the crew would whisper about by lantern light during story time. 

In retrospect, Stede should have put the pieces together sooner, but it doesn’t all click into place until his eyes move up to the very top of the ship. There, fluttering in the breeze, is a flag he’d only heard about in whispers and warnings before he met Ed. Similar to the flag that had been flying on The Revenge when they were first reunited, but not quite the same. 

Stede may not recognize the ship, but he does know that flag. Suddenly, Stede understands Ed’s reaction.

Ed had seen a ghost. 

“Stede,” Ed says, finally finding his voice. The words are strangled and tight with emotion and he looks at Stede with wild eyes, filled with terror, like a man who knows he’s trapped. “That’s the Queen Anne’s Revenge.”