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The sun is beating down on Stede’s neck. Beads of sweat tickle the nerves on his skin as they slide and he knows his curl pattern is completely ruined. He pushes his fingers through the hair stuck to his forehead and his hand comes back damp. Wiping it on his trousers yields undesirable results since they are damp, too.
“Shit,” he exclaims, frantically looking around on the porch that's been their project for the week. “Where are you hiding, huh?” At last, his eyes land on where it’s hanging haphazardly from the porch railing. “A-ha!"
His shirt was discarded hours before when they started on the finer details of the deck. Painting vines of flowers across the top and on each post was taking days and each night ended in more paint on each other than the deck, but Stede can't complain when Ed's smile radiates and warms him like a crackling fire on a cool night. Ed kisses and then boops the end of his nose — transferring more paint, of course. Now that most of the inside is finished, he gets to add the flourishes and small but all-important touches that give it personality. That make it a home again.
Stede double checks that there aren’t any bugs occupying the shirt, since he doesn’t want what happened months ago to occur again: Ed ripped his shirt as he flung himself back while they were making out when his hand brushed against a large, unsuspecting beetle. Stede promptly took it outside. He was delightfully thanked by Ed for his chivalry, which led to them putting on a whole three-act play about the insect’s life. Who’s he kidding? — that’s one of Stede’s favorite memories and he’d be happy to do that again.
Wiping away as much sweat as he can before taking a moment to collect himself, he absent-mindedly touches the scar by his collarbone. Stede can’t help but let the memories wash over him, searing hot like the Caribbean sun. It's healed now, leaving behind pink scar tissue and a swell of feelings, just like the two lower down on his abdomen where he was gut-stabbed. He definitely didn’t acquire them in the best scenarios, but when Ed places his hand protectively over them and kisses them with such reverence, he can’t regret the events that led to getting them. (Doesn’t mean he can’t bitch about them on occasion, though; after all, Ned Low did torture like a bitch. Didn’t he know that painting the wood would cause the violin to be off key?)
He used to read and fantasize about being a pirate, acted it out with the kids in games full of romanticized dangers and out-of-reach freedom — especially from the confines of those trifling, stifling societal expectations. But everything he knew about pirates was from an outside perspective: the books and tall tales. Some days Stede would seek out the old sea taverns, hoping to get one of the sailors to talk to him. None ever did — but they allowed him to sit in their presence if he agreed to “shut his fuckin’ flapper.” Stede tried his best, pinching himself whenever he started talking too much. He took everything in…the mingled smell of fish and salt, the grunts and yells of the seafaring folks, and especially how they maneuvered themselves, as if being back on land was foreign to them.
That’s how he met Buttons one fateful day when his former first mate regaled a tale about his love and having an itch to go back to the sea. Stede offered him the perfect opportunity on his ship, and in return Buttons let him ask an unrelenting string of questions and helped recruit the rest of the crew. It took Stede months to realize that Buttons’ love was the sea.
“And the bird stands on your head?”
“Aye, that’s Karl’s favorite spot. Nuttin’ a sailor needs more than the wind in ‘er hair and their love s’roundin’ ‘em.”
“One would think a vessel might be needed, too,” Stede quips.
Buttons lets out a frustrated groan. “A vessel.” His face turns wistful, shoulders slumping. “Only if ye really want to transform yourself, so they say.”
At the time, he thought it was rather an apt metaphor…but that was another thing Stede would learn the true meaning of later on. Buttons was a mysterious first mate. An odd bird, if you will.
When he left Mary and the kids the first time, he was lost. He had hoped the vast expanse of the ocean would hold the answers he’d been looking for his whole life; that somewhere in those depths he could find a warm current to heat the paralyzing cold that had sunk deep into his bones.
He experienced the good (and bad) of those expectations of piracy. It felt like he was floating around merely on assumptions until he was confronted with the reality of life at sea.
“Honestly, I would give all of this away.”
Stede said that to Ed with his whole chest the first day they met. He may have looked casual but his insides were tied in knots — literally — with all of his dreams borne from the books he devoured rising to the surface. Going from reading books to living the reality of them certainly has been thrilling, but he's found it's not being a pirate that he truly likes — there are certainly thrilling aspects to it, of course; gotta note the gusto! — but rather the community that comes with it.
He didn't fully realize it till they had time over the past few months to actually sit and not worry about constantly being killed, and more importantly, time to talk to each other. Stede set out to be better than his dad. To make piracy less toxic…he wanted some element of his life that wasn’t tarnished by the overwhelming toxicity. He doesn't know how much he succeeded but his crew are off on their own, still coming back to visit now and again. Despite all the bad that's happened, they still have a certain air of lightness around them and they never have to hide their true selves.
Coming back to himself, Stede grabs a knife and takes off down the small path they've forged behind the inn that leads to the south side of the island, sans shirt. He’s on a mission and he wants to complete it before Ed gets back.
It’s been nearly four months at the dilapidated old building and they have been some of the hardest yet the most rewarding in Stede’s entire life. During the day, they strive to make the rotted wood, broken glass, and overall debris that was not worth questioning or investigating further into the semblance of an inn, which has turned out to be Ed's specialty. He applies his decades of knowledge where pirate ships are concerned to the long-neglected wooden setting of the inn. It’s really something to behold.
And what has become Stede's specialty: foraging and scavenging. He spent much of his life reading books and then trying to take that knowledge out into the real world. He's learned what plants can be eaten and which ones will kill you outright, make you lose your senses enough that you'll start imagining things that aren't there, or worse. He’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much.
Playing pirates with his kids was the only time they really got along, but for several years, he and Alma would go for meandering walks about their property on the island and Stede would inform her of the flora and fauna. Oftentimes he’d make up tall tales or local myths about the origin of the object of their study when Alma grew tired of the scientific explanations.
The closest he's gotten to that since being back was the treasure hunt…which admittedly had its downsides, but ultimately brought everyone closer — him and Ed becoming co-captains over their shared nightcap was just the cherry on top of that excellent day. Now they find themselves once again in the wilderness, which isn’t Ed’s favorite. On their second day he told Ed that he didn't have to come along, that he'd venture out into their surroundings and search for treasures in the foliage. But Ed insisted, saying it was easier with two. When Stede took his hand, knowing that Ed loved and appreciated touch, hoping it would soothe him as they set forth into the trees, Ed muttered under his breath: “ Damned if I’ll be parted from him, even if it means more fuckin’ snakes…beat the shit out of the first one and I’d do it again.”
Stede barely managed to hide his smile as he pretended not to hear.
They've been able to get all the game and berries that they've needed to survive. Ed has tried his hand at fishing again, and with Stede by his side, the catch has been bountiful. The crew came back for a visit about a month ago and left them some more provisions, including dried meat. (Along with news of getting closer to finding Ricky.)
During the evening they talk — sometimes until the wee hours of the morning. Some are light conversations that end in laughter and affection so warm that Stede thinks he could become his own light source — like the campfire they slept around for the first couple months, the crackle of the flames and Ed's body flush against him making Stede feel so content he could possibly even become his own sun.
Other days are quiet. Ed plays the piano from their old quarters on the Revenge that the crew left with them, working diligently on the composition that he is calling “Two Lovers at the Inn by the Sea (and a Restaurant Specializing in Fried Fish, Perhaps a Flowershop as well).” The piece consists of a whole movement, first striking notes of melancholy before transitioning into a light air of joy and wonder. One night in particular, when Ed was able to get ahold of some rum, he taught Stede some old sailor songs and they sang at the top of their lungs, unbothered by inhibitions. Stede still glows at the thought of Ed keeping the piano when most of Stede’s other possessions were thrown overboard, of how he played it when they were apart, and how it was like a little bit of Stede was there with him.
They slowly learn every inch of each other, inside and out. Stede memorized all of Ed’s tattoos, and how he smiled when Stede found that one sensitive spot on his neck, or completely melted when Stede murmured praises into his skin, trying to make them permanent like the tattoos. They play off each other well, making the tough times easier by imagining and acting out scenarios.
But the most challenging and the most fulfilling ones are the days when they talk about themselves, their pasts. It was hard to do at first, Stede was so used to pushing it all down, or when things got really overwhelming, going away on his own, sitting in silence, and fighting back the tears that welled in his eyes. It was like Ed had a sixth sense about these moments; when Stede felt that way, Ed would place a hand over his heart and Stede would let out a breath slowly before continuing on, letting himself feel the emotions, letting himself stay with Ed. His best friend, his boyfriend, his…everything.
The first time Ed gave Stede a flower, Stede had to struggle to compose himself. Ed walked up with his arms behind his back, his muscles tense, radiating nervousness.
The night before had been intense. Stede told Ed about what happened with Chauncey and Ed told him what happened with Izzy. There had been harsh sounds and tears. But more importantly, there had been hugging, and the wiping of tear tracks, soft kisses, and affirming words. And they eventually fell asleep, Stede laying between Ed's legs with his head on his stomach. Ed's fingers traced swirls in his hair and soothing circles on Stede's scalp.
Stede had never felt so safe, so taken care of. Sharing a bed, curled up with someone, and he tried to offer the same to Ed every night.
They'd had a few quarrels here and there, frustrations about things that slightly turned inward or towards each other. But they never lasted long. And Stede almost lost Ed once; Ed with a cloth covering his face, his hands cold, and his complexion pallid, so lifeless. He could see his feet poking out, and Stede stared at them thinking about how Ed loves to be barefoot after a lifetime of heavy boots, but right then he wanted to cover them up. Keep him warm. He never wanted Ed to feel unloved again. And Ed felt the same. So bickering always ended in making up before the day was out.
“What do you have there, Edward?” he asked gently, waiting for Ed to reveal it himself. Ed’s eyes darted around and he rocked back and forth from his tiptoes to his heels. Stede remembers the first time he consciously clocked Ed doing this. After their reunion, Ed shook his shoulders, looked up through his eyelashes, that darn cat bell ringing, that look of heat in his eyes that Stede has come to know more intimately over the past several months.
It's become an underlying tell of nervous excitement: Ed's whole body starts vibrating, like a dog wagging its tail. He’s such a nut.
A large smile spread across his face and his eyes lit up. That was it. Stede felt his body responding, matching Ed’s energy.
“Well, I saw this tree with all these fucking gorgeous ass bright purple flowers on it!” He brought his hand out from behind his back and grasped in it was a handful of some of the most gorgeous blooms Stede had ever seen. “They reminded me of your story about picking flowers, and, you know…” he trailed off, getting a little shy. “...Anyway, thought they would look good in your hair.”
"Oh, Ed, they’re wonderful!” Because he couldn’t help himself, he started to explain all he knew about them. “These are Jacaranda. They bloom twice a year and they can be made into tea if one has an upset tummy.”
Ed looked down at the flowers. "Might be a good idea to get some more, then. But these…these are just for you.”
He chose a bloom and tucked it behind Stede’s ear, running his thumb along the shell before stepping closer and holding the bouquet out. Stede took it, lifting Ed’s hand to press a soft kiss there before bringing the flowers to his nose. They didn’t have a strong scent, but he found himself smiling into them, letting the mild aroma fill up his senses.
The flowers brought to mind Ed’s beautiful purple suit at the godawful fake French party. Ed had the most fetching purple ribbons in his beard and flowers in his hair. Stede didn’t realize it back then, but that little flutter he felt, that protective instinct that swelled when those heartless nobles hurt Ed, was Stede already falling in love with him.
He had been so happy during Calypso’s Birthday celebration, the ship adorned from stem to stern in flowers. He remembered the big pink hyacinth between the two of them and how Frenchie’s and a few of the other crew members’ hair were decked as well, the vibrant colors of the florets reflected in the general atmosphere of joy that was only briefly interrupted by the sour note of an unwelcome guest.
As a child Stede felt safe when surrounded by them, collecting the beauties, holding them in his hands with care. He used to put a vase on his nightstand and wake up nose first, smiling at their fresh perfume before blinking the sleep out of his eyes to have them immediately focus on the bright blooms.
But then he was relentlessly taunted and teased for his passion. His father banned them from his room, calling them a women’s weak affliction. And he resigned himself to only looking, not touching, and especially never having. He embraced that attitude for most of his adult life — only enjoying them from afar on special occasions or at parties, like Calypso's Birthday.
But this…this was different. This was private, just for him. And they had been given to him. No one had ever given him flowers before. No one has ever tucked one lovingly behind his ear while looking at him like he hung the moon.
The flowers became blurry in his vision. He blinked back the tears before raising his eyes to Ed's, and he was met with a crooked smile. Two strands of hair had escaped from the messy bun and framed his face. His beard was a tad longer, a tad greyer, and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. The freckles on his face stood out in the bright sunshine, and Stede longed to brush his fingers across them. He’s memorized each and every one, and he knew he could find them like constellations even in the darkest of nights, guiding him home. He's the most gorgeous person Stede has ever seen, and he feels privileged to be in his presence.
"Here." Stede took two of the flowers out of the bunch and slowly, gently, twined them into the bun of Ed’s hair, tucking one behind his ear to match his own. Ed’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch. Stede leaned forward, making sure not to squish the flowers between them, and planted a small peck on the end of Ed's nose.
There was a sharp intake of breath as Ed’s eyes flew open, moisture gathered at the edges.
"Splendid.” The word came out thicker than Stede intended, the rush of emotion making his throat tight. Even so, he hoped he got his point across, so Ed would know he wasn't just talking about the flowers. Luckily, he witnessed the precise moment of realization: Ed’s face bloomed in a delightful blush. And then, just as suddenly, his expression took on a scorching heat that rivaled the sun’s rays and made Stede’s body react even more intensely.
Ed circled an arm around his waist and dragged Stede against him. "No more work today,” he growled as he proceeded to nose his way down Stede's cheek and neck, gently biting that spot that made him squeak.
"Yes, yes, quite done." Ed’s hands wandered down from his lower back till they found his ass and gripped tightly. “Shit, no work for a week.”
Pulling away, he nudged Ed to wrap his legs around his waist, trying to make it into the shack without banging Ed into anything or smooshing the flowers, with Ed's arms around him and his chuckling loud in Stede’s ear, all-consuming in the way that only Ed can be. It’s a clumsy, stumbling affair, and they both ended up laughing as Stede deposited Ed on the table and stood between his legs.
Ed grabbed the bouquet and fixed him with an admonishing stare. "I went through all this trouble to pick the perfect flowers for you, and you try to smoosh them?"
"Edward…" Stede replied, unable to hide his amusement.
"Don’t deny it, babe. You were so focused on having sex with me, you completely forgot about the flowers. And how do you think I, they, feel about—”
Before he could finish, Stede leaned forward and Ed's words were cut off by Stedes lips against his.
"We can pick more flowers,” Stede said, but he still set them down delicately, his attention torn between them and Ed.
Ed quickly nodded. "Yup. Sure can."
"Good. That’s settled. Now, Edward Teach…”
“Born on a beach,” Ed added in singsong.
Ass like a peach, Stede thought. But then Ed’s legs pulled him forward as he threw his head back in laughter. So, he said that aloud, then.
"Hell yeah. Feel free to take a bite,” Ed seductively replied, his eyes darkening.
“I’ll definitely take you up on that.”
- - -
The plan formed as Stede watched Ed working earlier that day. Ed was standing on the other side of the room, fixing the lock on the doorknob. Some sort of creature made its way inside the night before and woke Stede up when it crawled across his face, and he flailed so hard that his forearm got a perfect shot to Ed’s shoulder and ear.
Ed was talking to the door as he worked, explaining that he had successfully fixed latches before and he was gonna take care of it, too. When Stede finally found the wherewithal to turn away — taking his eyes off Ed was always a chore — not even a minute passed before a little yelp of surprise split the air.
Stede whipped around to see Ed ten feet back from the door. Without thinking, he briskly strode forward and positioned himself between Ed and the danger.
“Where is it, darling?” He looked around, knowing the only thing that made Ed react like that was a spider. They failed to anticipate just how many spiders — and snakes — would come with adopting an abandoned place overrun by wilderness.
Ed sucked in a breath before pointing a trembling finger at the hinge. The spider was huge , the size of his palm, and honestly Stede wasn't looking forward to dealing with this one himself. But anything for Ed. Always.
“Leave it to me,” he said, placing a little kiss on Ed's cheek, while Ed took his hand and gave it a little squeeze.
“I'll pay you back, I promise,” Ed said breathlessly, his face caught between fright and excitement at their little routine of Stede taking out the spiders. Yet another situation that they’ve turned from poison to positivity.
“I'll hold you to that.”
He turned his attention to the arachnid that had offended his boyfriend. He didn't mind spiders, though they aren't nearly as cool as the candied melon silk moth. Then again, what is?
"Begone, foul beast!" He let out a theatrical yell, glancing over his shoulder to see Ed's reaction. He was still tense, his shoulders hunched up to his ears, his wide eyes trained intently on him.
Stede went back into theatrical mode.
"What's that, little one?" Stede raised his voice slightly to make sure Ed heard him. "Well, that's just uncalled for."
He heard a little questioning lilt from Ed.
“I will ask you politely just this once to take your leave!” He let the silence set in, putting his hands on his hips, then scoffed loudly. "Alrighty, now I’m not being polite. Fuck off! You can insult me all you want, but not my man.”
He pulled out a dagger and brandished it as menacingly as he could, the tip about a foot from the spider on the hinge. Stede swallowed hard. This spider looked even bigger next to the thin blade.
“It may be unfair, my dagger against eight of yours…and is that…is that a shield on your back? I see you've come prepared, tiny fiend."
"Ah. Must not be his first battle," Ed piped up. "Don't let him get the advantage, remember our training, fair knight."
Stede turned around and blew a kiss to Ed.
When the spiders first showed up, Ed would yelp and then say he needed to work on something outside, and promptly disappeared. It gave Stede enough time to get rid of the invaders. Ed would then reappear with some wildflowers that he found. And sometimes the occasional fish. One was lovingly cooked by the fire and the other arranged in an empty vase that Stede kept in the trunk of things that they took off the ship. Ever since that first bouquet, the inn has not been without fresh flowers, and as the flowers dried out, Ed placed them in glass jars and put them on the shelf. Like Ed’s own version of letters in a bottle.
The two front legs of the spider lifted toward him like it was trying to put up a fight, and he fought back a giggle as he moved his dagger around, close to the spider but not hurting it. He made quick jabbing movements and appropriate noises to go along with them.
After about the tenth fake stab he grabbed his arm and fell backwards on his ass. “Ouch!”
Ed was by his side in a second, wrapping a cloth around the pretend wound on Stede’s arm before helping him back to his feet. He pointed to the wall. “They brought an army!”
“Those bastards.” When Stede looked back, his eyes fell on a trail of ants on the floor.
“They’re trying to Trojan Horse you. But you got this, babe! They don’t know who they’re dealing with.”
Stede’s heart rate picked up at Ed’s reassuring words and just for a moment, the fight felt real, as if Ed truly was encouraging him like a medieval knight in a jousting ring. He recovered his stance and after some dashing back and forth, probably scaring the poor spider half to death in the process, he lightly nudged the spider’s butt until it started retreating toward the outside.
"Haha! Do you admit defeat?"
Ed cheered. Stepping forward with newfound confidence and producing his own knife, the two of them fought side by side, their arms brushing together. Stronger as a team.
“Banishment it is, then.”
“For your entire fucking army!”
“Tell all your friends they'll be dispatched without ceremony if they show their faces in our home again.”
Stede swiftly dispensed the spider beyond the threshold after scooping it up on the end of the dagger, dropping it in one of the empty jars, walking to a tree at least a hundred yards away and allowing it to find its way onto the trunk before heading back to the inn. He threw them overboard when they were on the ship, but this one can stay in the trees, far away from them. He's hoping it will return the favor by killing any future bugs that would otherwise try to find their way into their home.
“To hell with you, and think twice before challenging either of us again,” he yelled, sheathing the dagger.
He’d barely made it to the porch before Ed wrapped his arms around him and dipped him, tucking his face into the crook of his neck and tickling Stede. As Stede squirmed, Ed barely managed to keep him from falling down. Once they were both upright, Ed ran a fingertip down the bridge of Stede’s nose.
“Fucking love the nose scrunch, babe.”
“Nose scrunch?” Stede repeated, still a bit flustered.
“Yeah.” Ed moved his finger to trace the corner of Stede’s eyes as well. “When you laugh, your nose scrunches up and these little lines show up. Just for me.”
Stede thought about those laugh lines on Ed's face and how much he loved them. How they told Ed’s history, how he gets to see them more and more now. And he cherishes them.
“Oh, okay. Well, I’m glad to be of service,” he replied, smiling brightly at the unconcealed warmth in Ed's eyes. He wanted to sink in and make a home there. And he meant it, he is glad he can witness something so simple, can still hardly believe that just a part of him can make Ed happy.
Stede knows that Ed doesn't need to be saved, not in the traditional sense, but he was learning to be taken care of. Just like he takes care of Stede. And getting rid of spiders is a small gesture that Stede hopes can project something deeper.
- - -
Half a day later, Stede can finally put his plan in motion. He reaches that spot just off the path and quickly gathers his bounty.
Stede had kept the piece of twine from the morning after breakfast in bed. Ed’s nervous speech about panicking and adding it to the tray as a flourish was impossibly endearing and he cherishes it as a reminder of Ed. The twine isn’t much to look at. It’s brown and frayed at both ends, but Stede never wanted to let it go. He tucked it into his pocket afterward for safe keeping, dipping his hand inside and rolling the twine between his fingers. When he and Ed settled on the island, he subconsciously reached in every now and again to make sure it was still there, close at hand.
One day, after he had finished working on the roof, he was startled to find that his pocket was empty.
He looked down. Nothing.
He looked out towards the wilderness. Nothing.
He looked up. Nothing.
Wait. Why would he look up? As if the clouds would part and a beam of light would miraculously shine down on it? Silly.
He was just on the verge of freaking out, turning the room upside down, tears welling in his eyes, when he felt himself gathered up in Ed’s arms. Ed pulled him close, one arm around his waist, the other holding the back of his head, and Stede immediately tucked his face into the crook of Ed's neck.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Ed whispered.
Stede sniffled, feeling a little sheepish now that Ed was there. But he's been enthusiastically repeating his mantra, talk it through as a crew (of two), and while he knew he wasn't the best at it, he was making himself get better.
Ed’s hands moved to cup his cheeks, and Stede’s worry dissipated when he saw the real concern in Ed's gaze.
Ed looked around, his sharp eyes seeking out the threat, immediately in protection mode now that Stede seemed safe.
That anxious reaction hit him again, like his stomach had flipped itself around and danced a little jig on his intestines. He knew it was irrational, that Ed wouldn’t judge him for liking flowers or keeping the twine. But he can’t fight off the feeling.
“I just…lost something.”
“Lost something?” The corner of Ed’s lip ticked up. “What did you lose?”
Stede frowned and looked around but before he could respond, he felt Ed playing with his wrist. It wasn’t an unusual comforting gesture, but it felt different than normal and Ed was biting his lip in concentration as he looked down. Stede lowered his eyes as well and saw something brown and thin wrapped around his wrist as Ed’s fingers pulled away.
“I have to tell you, keeping things in your pocket isn’t the best idea. That’s how they get lost. But now it's safe.”
“Ah. Yes,” is all Stede could get out.
Now, as he gathers so many bright yellow flowers that he can hardly hold onto them all, he starts to head back. Ed will return any moment and he wants to show his appreciation for all the flowers Ed has been bringing him over the months. It’s about time he returns the favor.
When he reaches the last bend in the path before the inn comes into view, he drops a few stems, which stops him in his tracks. He’ll do it here before Ed can see. Pulling out the dagger he now carries with him, he cuts part of the twine around his wrist, transferring it to the large bouquet.
As it happens, Ed is already back, holding the net aloft with his catch of the day.
“Hey babe!” he yells excitedly. “Got us some crabs. We are going to be eating well tonight.”
“That’s wonderful, Ed.”
Ed freezes mid-step on the path right in front of the inn as his eyes drop from Stede’s face to the almost absurdly large bunch of flowers in Stede’s hands. Stede’s feet eat up the space between them, confused by the way Ed’s mouth becomes more downturned with each step.
He looks sad. Why is he sad? He picks flowers for Stede weekly, but is it possible he does not actually like them?
He’s saved from his spiraling thoughts by Ed’s voice, soft in its vulnerability. “Did…did you want other flowers?”
“What?” Stede asks, more bewildered than ever.
“If you didn’t want the Jacaranda anymore,” Ed says, barely above a whisper, “you could've told me…”
“No, no, Ed,” Stede cuts him off, feeling a rush of both relief and guilt for making Ed think for even one second that his actions aren’t loved, like seeing those flowers doesn’t make every fiber of Stede’s being vibrate. “I absolutely adore the Jacaranda. The purple is beautiful and it reminds me of you.”
That brings a slight smile to Ed’s face. But it isn’t wide enough.
Stede glances down at the flowers he’s gathered. “I saw these and they are golden like sunshine on a cloudless day.” He swallows. “They represent how you make me feel.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. And they are for you.” He hands them over and Ed doesn’t hesitate to drop the net, suddenly grabbing the flowers with the boundless enthusiasm of a child given free rein of the sweets table.
“There’s so many of them!” he exclaims excitedly, lifting them high in the air and faking like he can barely hold them up. “How did you even carry so many? Strongest man alive, you are.”
He winks and clicks his tongue at Stede, making him blush. Any disappointment he felt at not beating Ed back to the house, or at least trying to make himself look more presentable compared to this sweaty shirtless mess, is pushed to the back of his mind at Ed's unbridled joy.
“You like them?” he asks, unnecessarily.
“Almost as much as you.” Ed reaches out and clasps his shoulder, running the back of his hand over Stede’s collarbone and resting it above the scar that Ned Low gave him before returning his attention to the flowers.
“Seriously mate, these are massive…how did you…” Ed’s fingers catch on the string tying the stems together and he lifts them to eye level, his face falling into the softest expression, those crinkles coming back and yeah, Stede definitely understands the appeal. Ed’s eyes flick to Stede’s wrist and then back to the twine.
“We each have a bit of the twine now.”
“Oh.”
Ed presses his hand against Stede's chest, right above his heart.
Everything goes quiet, Stede's world narrowing down to that one contact. He can feel Ed's fingers flex, the teeniest movement as he readjusts. The solid presence grounding them both.
It's warm, soft, gentle.
Stede can't help but see the irony in it. Those books and wanted posters showed Blackbeard as a ghoul, a villain, and he knows Ed has the capability to perform that role when pushed, like a rattlesnake shaking its tail as a warning — then forced to strike out when the other won't quit advancing. At the heart of it all, Ed is gentle.
And Ed is always beautiful. How his eyes sparkle with a mischievous energy one moment, and then can switch when Stede knows he's lost in his own head. He tries to keep his distance, tries not to crowd him, but makes sure Ed knows he's there whenever he's ready to talk about the pain in his eyes, carved into the lines of his face.
But there’s also that wonderful sense of humor that always keeps Stede on his toes. Some of Stede's favorite moments with him have been the ones when they can riff off of each other.
Even on the days when fixing up the inn seemed impossibly hard, when the roof collapsed and knocked Stede out, and he awoke to Ed crying his name and rocking him, muttering, no, no, no. Together, they were able to get through the hard times and hard talks.
Stede admires Ed's strength, his intelligence, his sense of humor.
Right now, though, the sun shines on him, the sweat on his skin glistening. The grey in his hair and beard shimmer as his hair turns more light than dark. It feels fitting, Stede muses. It takes Ed further away from the Blackbeard role and closer to just being his full self, all of his identities together in harmony. Stede loves him, all of him.
He's a marshmallow burnt from the fire of others.
Stede places one hand over Ed's, interlocking their fingers. The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smile as he starts to tap out the rhythm of Stede's heartbeat. He bows his head, knocking their foreheads together.
Cold and clammy. He remembers holding Ed's hand. His hands and feet were so cold. But now they are warm with life. Right after they moved into the inn, Stede made a habit of kissing Ed's temple, then his lips, soft and gentle, while brushing his thumb over his cheek. It has become a ritual before falling asleep at night. One evening he jolted awake from a nightmare, remembering that day down in the hold when he thought he would see Ed for the last time. And along with the stray hairs covering his face (Ed always took the time to style his hair, and to see it like that broke Stede's heart) were bruises from the beatings on his temple and a cut on his lip. Stede realized then that his ritual of kissing those places was his way of acknowledging Ed’s wounds — as well as the ones beneath the surface — and a promise that he would never let something like that happen to Ed again. He will never let Ed think he's unlovable.
Their skin is tacky with sweat and Ed smells like the sea. Stede takes a deep breath as he moves his head to the right to rub their temples together and nuzzles his nose into Ed's damp hair. Time is held captive in this moment, a quiet stillness in the air around them.
Ed's giggle comes out boisterous, breaking through the silence, and all at once the awareness of their surroundings comes roaring back. The too hot sun, the sound of the waves breaking on the beach. Ed continues to squirm, which just makes Stede double down until Ed's breathless pleas of “Stede, Stede” fade as his laughter steals his voice.
Stede finally relents and pulls back, keeping his hands on Ed's shoulders, feeling them move as Ed's body continues to shake in silent mirth. He feels Ed's body hitch, like he wasn’t taking in air. His breathing had become shallow and not in the way Stede was getting used to when Ed was fighting some inner turmoil.
Squeezing his hand, he whispers, “What's wrong, Ed?”
“Just rationing my breath.”
Stede draws back to catch his eye but keeps his body close, the questioning tilt of his head an invitation for Ed to continue.
“We are the fish. We are the twine.”
It’s like a riddle, but Stede knows what Ed is getting at. They are together, a unit.
“I love it, you nut,” he says, fully aware that all his fondness for this man is shining on his face.
“Oh, fuck off,” Ed jokes. Before they can start their playful banter, probably involving something about heavy flowers and cheesy moments, Ed grabs Stede and dips him. Stede manages a surprised squeal before Ed’s lips connect to his. The kiss is sloppy, imperfect, both of them smiling and laughing more than anything but it is perfect. It is them.
Ed pulls back slightly, his expression playful but earnest. “I fuckin' love you. From your flowers, to your fuckin’ fantastic curls, your freckles, the way you hum as you work, and especially that noise you make right before you…”
“Edward!” he chastises, but he’s not offended in the least — in fact, his mind immediately conjures up ideas for coaxing those same noises out of Ed later — but he knows Ed would find it funny if he acts scandalized. The mischievous smile that spreads across his face proves that it had the desired effect.
Ed delicately drops the flowers and cups the back of Stede's head, pulling him in for a proper kiss. The rest of the day's work and the blazing heat of the sun are forgotten.
Stede doesn't know if they will ever open the inn, but as long as he has Ed by his side, he doesn't give a damn.
“Honestly, I would give all of this away.”
He may have given some things away, but what he has gained in return is so much more than he ever thought he would have. And he has absolutely no regrets.
Das Ende.