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It was Ed who pitched it, sitting on the porch one night with eyes turned towards the starry sky. Leaning himself full into Stede’s side, pleasantly buzzed off a little rum and thinking oh–he smells nice, he’s warm, I wonder–I wonder–
Stede was on about throw pillows and maybe they could get something to cover up that hole in the floor instead of fixing, because fixing seemed irrelevant when parts of the roof needed patching still to stop it leaking all over the place. And then maybe they could do a thing about the hole in the floor, like throw a rug over it or something. And talking about fixing got Stede on a tear about maybe converting one of the larger rooms into some kind of–maybe–honeymoon suite. For couples, you know.
Stede paused to take an enormous gulp of air–
“We should do that.”
–and it got stuck in his throat the way down.
“I’m sorry, do what?” he said.
Ed shifted his weight around, pressed himself heavier into Stede’s side and Stede knew it was okay to put his arm around, to pull Ed in and give Ed those things (smallness, good safety, warmth) he wanted. They’d talked so much, about things they wanted. It was always hard talk, worth it but so so hard. “I want you, I just want to be with you” was enough on their good days.
“Marriage. Getting married. Us. Let’s do that.”
“Are you–are you proposing to me?”
“That a no, love?”
There were certain things that didn’t happen to Stede. Not because Stede didn’t want or will them, but the universe quite rarely stuck up a big fuck you over top of Stede’s fantasies. He had this internal script of a life, from birth to death with starry little interludes titled things like Becoming a Pirate and Meeting Edward Teach. Hardly anything written in that script ever happened to him. And being proposed to wasn’t even on the script, it was–well, it was a note left in the margins. A missing scene he forgot, because oops! That sort of thing just didn’t happen to Stede Bonnet!
But here was Ed reading that internal script (of which Stede never told anyone about, they could fuck off asking about it) and nodding his head up and down, spotting those notes detailing a missing scene where Stede was proposed to and saying to himself–oh, maybe things like this could happen to the beautiful tragedy of a man that was Stede.
“You really want to do it? With the cake and the vows and–?”
Ed snuggled full into Stede’s arms, it was cold and uncomfortable on that porch and there was a bed waiting inside, a comfy bed under a very very leaky roof that needed something done about it.
“Big cake,” he said. “I want the biggest cake. Biggest Roach can do.”
Stede’s head went into an unsafe careen. Right. The crew! They could get the crew to do some of the dirty jobs, like getting the food sorted. Wee John could have the suits done, if they were doing suits. Stede had quite the eye for where to put things for maximum fancy, they had little to work with but they’d gotten the inn so nice with just a few changes to the decor. Archie and Jim and Oluwande were on for decorating, that sounded like a Jim-Olu-Archie sort of job. With Frenchie to supervise and direct.
“I’ll get them a letter, how’s that?” said Stede.
By seagull express. There was always this one seagull, hanging around Izzy’s grave. And Ed had puzzled out that if he gave it things (like letters) it would…somehow get those letters to the crew and the crew often sent stuff back. Ed wasn’t quite sure how that worked itself out, but…okay. Don’t look a gift bird in the beak.
Ed hummed and nodded his head. Yeah, they could do this by letter.
“They’re WHAT?”
“NO WAY.”
Lucius flinched as Archie’s voice went up several octaves in complete astonishment and Pete shouted in surprise painfully close to his ear. Hearing loss was one of the many things Lucius Spriggs could do without, thanks very much.
Archie threw up her arms in excitement and cheered.
“Our dads are getting married!” she shouted.
Jim threw both arms over Archie’s shoulders, eyeing the letter in Lucius’s hands. Freshly-delivered by seagull post.
“Wait, the captains are getting hitched?” they said. “Dios mio, it’s about time.”
Lucius skimmed the letter a second time.
“And they need our help, looks like,” he said. “For wedding prep.”
He called over his shoulder.
“What about it, captain?” he said. “Fancy a wedding?”
Frenchie tipped his captain’s hat up on his forehead (he’d stolen it off a British naval officer and Frenchie thought it suited him better) and nodded. Yeah, they could take a small detour to help Ed and Stede get the wedding thing sorted. Least they could do, former captains and all.
Frenchie supervised the putting up of decorations by Oluwande, Jim, and Archie. Enormous glass vases of freshly picked wildflowers were placed on every surface of the main room, where wooden tables had been set up outwards from the front desk. Ed helped with the picking of flowers, he went out early that morning to grab a bouquet of them for Stede and then just sort of got into it. They hardly came up with enough vases for the load, some of them were hung in wreaths and crowns to be draped on hooks around the room. The flower wreaths were Wee John’s suggestion.
Roach–with the help of The Swede and Spanish Jackie–baked an exquisite three-layer wedding cake. Ed sheepishly mentioned something about “cake people” (“cake toppers, dear, I believe,” Stede corrected gently). Those were meant to go on top, right? But they didn’t have any, so maybe–no, no, never mind, Stede was looking at him oddly–
Pete offered to wittle something like what Ed was talking about, two little figures for going on top of the cake. Gratefully, Ed said he’d do the paint job himself.
Wee John had an ask about clothes, what were they thinking of having on? They could tailor something up in a few days, Wee John promised.
Ed didn’t have anything in mind for clothes, he said. Honestly, he was just thinking of doing it in his leathers. For the sake of old times, you see. He didn’t want to trouble anyone with it, it wasn’t as if the clothes mattered to their ever-after.
But…he was lying. Just a bit, he was lying.
It just washed up near the inn, that trunk of clothes. Ed was out having his usual morning chat with Izzy’s grave when he saw it, sprinted down to pull the thing fully to shore and opened it up. He’d turned to the gravestone and jokingly asked if this was Izzy’s doing, he’d gotten no answer except the trill of that lone seagull who seemed to be keeping vigil from morning to evening.
A wooden trunk full of clothes, mostly dresses. Must have been dumped off a ship or maybe even tossed off in a storm. Stede asked if that could happen, Ed shrugged and said all kinds of loot or luggage got lost at sea.
Stede hummed in appreciation at all the fine fabrics. These had clearly belonged to a lady of high standing!
Stede chattered like a happy crow about fabrics, Ed had pulled one of the dresses (a lavender affair) entirely from the trunk’s formidable maw and was just touching with his fingers. Tracing the bodice, the hemline, the waistline. And not saying anything.
In his bedroom after the talk with Wee John about wedding attire, Ed again traced his fingers over the light lavender bodice and lantern sleeves, the diving off-shoulder neckline, the hemline trimmed with white lace, the long trail of skirt held together by a thin waistline.
He turned around in it, to look from all angles and…wow. It didn’t look bad. Of course it didn’t, he could pull off anything! But–well–he did think maybe it would look the slightest bit silly? He’d never worn one.
“Ed? Are you in there?”
Ed started at the sound of Stede’s voice, he whirled in panic towards the door and clutched at the hemline of the dress. Fuck. Wasn’t Stede meant to be out in the main room, instructing on how the archway with the flowers was meant to be set up? He’d said as much, polishing breakfast to get right on supervising the putting up of the archway. It was the centerpiece of the whole wedding, he said. And Roach would be presiding.
“I’m–,” Ed tried.
He closed his mouth, realizing he had nothing. His brain had gone totally blank, he could think of nothing except how getting into that dress had been such a chore and getting out was near-impossible.
He watched, quietly frozen in place, as the bedroom door opened. He held the skirt of his dress in a pair of tight fists and breathed constricted, staring with slightly wide eyes at the door. That single pushing open seemed to take forever, his heartbeat increasing with every inch of reveal.
Stede walked into the bedroom, his gaze immediately finding his stun-locked boyfriend in front of the mirror.
Ed swallowed. Oh god. He was looking at–the dress. Yes, of course he’d see that first. The dress Ed had fought so hard into.
“Ed–”
Ed closed his eyes, swallowed again.
“Sorry, I’ll–I’ll take it off,” he managed. “Sorry.”
His eyes opened, they were burning a little with tears. He just wanted to try it on, he’d never been planning to wear the thing. Could he imagine? Standing under that archway all decorated with flowers, in a dress. Him. The former dread pirate Blackbeard. It was just a silly thing he’d imagined, when he saw the wonderful tailed sky-blue longcoat with the lace all up the sleeves and the white ruffled collar, the pants to match of course. What Stede was planning to have on for the ceremony.
Stede strode across the room. To where Ed had gone still and was staring very hard at his feet and scrunching up the skirt of his dress in two fists still and very much looking like he wanted to evaporate. Ed couldn’t look at himself in the full length mirror anymore.
“Ed,” Stede repeated.
Ed’s shoulders trembled a bit and he hung his head, seeming very much like a child who’d been caught doing something punishable. Stede was going to be angry at him, so so angry, he was sure on it.
Stede reached, hovering for just a moment of asking before taking Ed’s hands off the skirt and moving them into his with a certain adoring squeeze.
“Let me do your hair.”
Stede took up wildflowers he’d picked that morning, wove them between strands of Ed’s braid. He was one of few given permission for touching Ed’s hair, he hadn’t realized at the time how precious this trust was when Ed gave it to him so easily. He hadn’t thought anything of it until he saw with his own eyes how certain folks would grab at or touch or pull on Ed’s hair, often drawing a yelp or a recoil from Ed and…well, let’s just say more than one guest at that inn had found themselves missing a hand. Or both, if Stede was in a foul mood and the guest in question had decided to get particularly handsy.
Ed was sitting on a stool before the full length mirror, his hands coming up to hold self-consciously at the neckline of his dress when Stede sat him down to do the hair-braiding. He let them drop into his lap now, tracing with his eyes where Stede had pulled back and braided his long hair down his back. Stede had put flowers in. Ed didn’t think he’d look elegant with flowers in, like a proper fancy upper class lady getting hitched. He wondered (without shame this turn of it) if Wee John would do his makeup.
Stede touched Ed’s shoulders.
“I have to run, dear,” he said. “I need to get dressed.”
He bent himself forward and kissed Ed’s bare shoulder.
“And it’s bad luck, to see the bride before the wedding,” he added.
Despite Stede’s efforts, he wasn’t allowed another glimpse of Ed before the ceremony began. The one time he tried to enter the bedroom, Archie hurled herself into him and tossed him out of the room, throwing a hand over his eyes and reminding him that looking at the bride before the wedding was bad luck. Frenchie told her that, putting Archie on door duty because he knew exactly what Stede was like.
The ceremony was held in the main room, another table set up to hold Roach’s three-layer monstrosity of an enormous white-frosted wedding cake. Atop the cake were the cake people, two slightly humanoid carvings of the two grooms. The Swede had done his paint job well, he’d given the Ed topper a white wedding dress and the Stede topper a suit that somewhat matched the real thing.
Ed and Stede stood under the archway with hands clasped together, looking so far into each others’ eyes the whole wedding party could have been squeezed to background. Stede had a small white flower pinned to the right breast of his sky blue tailed longcoat, underneath which he’d put on a white shirt with a ruffled collar and sky white breeches. The Swede had taken a pair of Stede’s shoes and tied bows to them for the complete effect. He was fairytale prince handsome. And Ed was bride on his wedding day beautiful, pale lavender shadow swept around his eyes. He’d done the pre-wedding spa treatments with Roach and Fang, then Wee John sat him down to do his makeup. Ed had gone for simple and pretty around the eyes, light and playful pink on his lips.
Stede unrolled a piece of parchment and started reading from it, Ed’s eyes sparkling wider and brighter as he realized…
“Dear Ed
I never thought I’d be happy, to be marrying someone. But then you came along and all those parts didn’t sound so bad. I’ve wanted everything of you, since we first laid eyes on each other. I’m sorry I’ve been a coward and I’ve let you down and I will again. But to the end of our days, as peaceful or scary as they might be, I promise to only follow my heart. Because this heart, my love, will always lead back to you. One, only, always you.”
Stede rolled the parchment back up and handed it off to Pete. He was crying just a little when Pete came to take the letter from him, he took grip of Ed’s hands again.
Ed stared, his lower lip shaking and eyes filling up.
“I didn’t–I didn’t write something for you, I didn’t know we had to write a thing,” he said.
Stede took Ed’s cheek in his hand, loving eyes casting deeper than ever before into Ed’s.
“I know,” he said. “You already wrote your name on me, in permanent ink.”
He took hold of Ed into a kiss, throwing his arms around Ed’s back and waist. Ed tossed his bouquet of wildflowers to the ground and they embraced in a desperate press, Stede sliding one hand up Ed’s back.
Roach flourished his arms above his head.
“You may now kiss!” he announced.
He turned his attention to the audience of Revenge crew members, all of whom were either sobbing or clapping or rolling their eyes.
“And we may eat cake!” he added with even more enthusiasm.
The Revenge crew stampeded past the makeshift archway and to where the refreshments were being held, champagne and of course the enormous wedding cake. Plates were passed around, Roach cut them all slices and handed them out. Archie grabbed and tried to balance four plates at once, one for herself and three for her partners. Oluwande and Jim swooped in to take their cake before Archie dropped their food, Zheng kissed Oluwande’s cheek and took her own plate. The Swede cut a slice for Spanish Jackie and they shared it. Frenchie and Wee John both took a plate, they’d both more than earned cake. Lucius and Pete stood away, holding hands and talking in quiet voices to one another about wedding presents. Fang was wondering aloud if it was okay to feed his pet goat (whom he’d named “Ivan”) just a small bit of wedding cake and if he should take a plate to Izzy’s grave.
With the talking and eating, no one saw Ed and Stede discreetly slip out to their bedroom. Stede took Ed’s wrist and led him, Ed looking away bashfully and brushing a single stray hair from his cheek. Stede had one more surprise. For their wedding night.
The door of their bedroom shut silently behind them, on a room full of lit candles and a bed dotted with small red flower petals.