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“Come here often?” The girl sitting next to Ed glares daggers at him with her sharp hazel eyes.
“Get stabbed often?” She retorts with a shockingly gravelly voice while tossing her cropped black hair over her shoulder. The sharp, quick wit makes him sit up straighter and the threat entices more than repels him. He’s beyond interested to know where she managed to stash the knife if she has one. The plaid skirt, white button-up, and black sweater-vest that make up the girls’ uniform for their school don’t seem the most friendly for bringing in contraband.
Before Ed can whip out another shitty line Dr. Hornigold steps out and grunts, “Miss Hands” and she gets up to stomp past him into his office. The screaming match between those two doesn’t help how immediately and deeply interested Ed is in her. When she comes out, red-faced and still cursing their headmaster out, Ed swears to himself that he needs to know anything and everything about her.
He gets what he hopes to be his chance a month later when she’s back from her apparent suspension. Turns out, at least according to Jack, she did have a knife. Sent this kid he’s never heard of called Ricky to the hospital after she and a friend found him hiding in the girl’s bathroom to be a peeping Tom. Stabbed him in the gut. Left side, so non-lethal, but still a stabbing. Didn’t help that this kid is some kind of wealthy and his parents threatened to sue the school to kingdom come. Still doesn’t change that Ed is dying to get to know her.
That hope is dashed just a week after her return. Ed just had to be playing hooky with Jack the day she nearly beat another student to death. No one ever bothered to find out why, just that she went homicidal and then was never seen again.
♠️
He doesn’t get his second chance for ten years. Ed’s nursing yet another double rum and coke at his own bar. Stressed, like he always is, thanks to the bedlam that is running a gay bar during pride. Sure, drinking on the job during the busiest month for Blackbeard’s isn’t smart. But his nickname is on the fucking sign, so what he says goes.
What he’s saying right now is that he wants to get to know the short, stocky man with such familiar sharp hazel eyes. If he wasn’t three sheets to the wind he’d be able to place them. But all he knows under the haze of the booze is he’s hot and Ed wants him. He wants to know if the leather harness framing that stunning rack feels as soft as it looks. He wants to either bend that man over or get bent over by him. Ed’s not picky. Most importantly he wants to get him away from the twink with ridiculous sideburns and glittery outfit that’s sidling up to what Ed’s already claimed as his conquest for the night. Even if he hasn’t made a move yet.
He flags down Jim, his head bartender for the night, and gestures for them to lean in so they can hear him over the music.
“¿Qué pasa jefe?” Ed points at the twink and Jim looks confused. “Yeah, what about him? Seems pretty normal, at least for a dude at a gay bar.”
“Cut him off for the night. Make up a reason why you can’t serve him,” Ed grumbles. “Doesn’t matter what, as long as he’s gone.” Jim knows better than to question Ed when he’s made up his mind about something. Ed watches with a pleased smirk as Jim approaches the man and says something that has him leaving in a huff. The guy doesn’t seem to care; something about that makes Ed’s heart race, realizing that he might not have been interested in him.
So Ed takes his turn. Turning on the charm to the maximum; the charisma that has quite literally charmed the pants off multiple people. “You look lonely,” Ed purrs when he slides next to the man. “Mind if I join you?”
“Because I want to be left alone,” The man’s growl sends a shiver down his spine. Ed’s definitely leaning towards bending over for this man just to hear that commanding voice. “So yes. I very much fucking mind, Edward Teach.” Before Ed can ask how the hell this guy knows his name he’s slammed a handful of cash on the bar and left in a black blur.
♠️
“You had me at ‘I almost killed that guy because he was a transphobe and a pervert,’” Ed giggles into his wine glass.
“Because he was a transphobe and a pervert. He doesn’t deserve to have hands or eyes if all he’s going to use them for is trying to get a peek under someone’s skirt without consent,” Izzy rolls his eyes as he takes another sip of water. “Do you have to work in one of your stupid pick-up lines into every conversation we have? I already agreed to go on this farce of a date because you fucking stalked me, Teach.”
“Worked, didn’t it?” Ed wiggles his eyebrows but stops when he sees Izzy’s hand twitching near his unused steak knife. “And it’s technically your fault. You walked into my bar and did something no one has ever done in the history of having the place: you said no to me. You also knew my name, and I had to know why. Then I found out you were my high school crush, Izzy Hands. Cheeky fucker.”
“It’s not cheeky. It’s called moving far, far away from my shitty family and that shitty town so I could transition, stupid twat.”
When Izzy accepts Ed’s invitation to spend the night at his after their date he knows, without a single shred of doubt, that this man is everything he ever wanted.
♠️
“Do you have a name or can I just call you mine?” Izzy’s murderous look as they leave the courthouse doesn’t phase Ed one bit. Not even when he holds the marriage certificate up to his face to remind him that they agreed they’d keep their last names. Mostly Ed’s decision when he realized how many different places they’d need to go to change their names if they decided to go that route. He stashes it in his bag as they mount Ed’s bike and ride back to their home.
Of course, Izzy crumbles like a wet paper towel when Ed insists on carrying him over the threshold. Crying and snotty throughout the whole “reception” that’s really just a casual get-together with their friends. Even when he and Ed chase each other around the backyard with handfuls of their wedding cake. Throwing them at each other like they’re still high school kids having a food fight. Even when Ed takes Izzy to bed after the party’s over to have their own kind of celebration.
♠️
“Where have you been all my life?” Ed asks the squirming bundle nestled in his arms.
“She’s only five hours old, fucking twat,” Izzy grumbles from his hospital bed. He shifts once again to try and get comfortable, considering this is going to be his temporary home for at least the next couple of days. “Before that, she was just a bundle of cells in your balls until you stuck her in me and then sat back and watched her destroy my cunt.”
Ed gasps and covers their daughter’s ears. “Izzy! Don’t swear around poor Rose and her innocent ears.” He turns to her to see a faint scowl on her lips and the perfect copy of Izzy’s sharp eyes looking annoyed with her Papa’s attempt to protect her supposed innocence.
“Says the man that cursed like a sailor when we were setting up her nursery,” Izzy retorts as he settles into a position that allows him to watch them. “She got to hear both of us for eight months. It’s a little late to be worried about her picking up on it. Guarantee you her first word will be a swear.”
Ed giggles as he leans over to kiss Rose’s forehead, and maybe take a whiff or two of that addicting newborn smell, then over to Izzy to kiss his cheek. “Probably. But it’s not my fault. Blame those stupid instructions, love. Too many words.” Ed doesn’t need that many words to say how deliriously happy he is. His husband next to him and their baby in his arms. He can say it in six simple, easy words. You are
everything
I ever wanted.