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Their Inn is shaping up well, in Stede’s opinion. In the three months he and Ed have been constructing — rather, puttering — all of the major holes have been fixed, the ghastly smell is gone at the expense of a family of raccoons, and Stede and Ed have been able to make a real home together. They’ve got pillows, blankets, chairs, even a table. It’s nice. Guests are the next step, but they’ve agreed to take it all slow, just focus on spending time as the two of them. Stede has loved every minute of it, especially since practically every one of those minutes has been spent by Ed’s side. Hip to hip. (Some have said intertwined.)
Stede wakes with the sun in his eyes. He reaches out to pull the blankets up around him, but finds nothing except a chilly mattress. Rising, he looks around to try and find Ed, but finds nobody at all. His heart sinks all deep in his chest, the hope of a morning cuddle engulfed with the flame of worry.
“Ed?” He calls, frowning.
He gets up and pads around the hallway, careful of the wood splinters they still haven't sanded down. “Edward?” He calls again. “Hellooo—”
As he crosses through the doorway to their kitchen he sees Ed standing, swaying in front of the tea kettle. Seems as though Stede has tracked down their duvet, too — Ed has it wrapped around his shoulders, cozied in a blanket cocoon. Like a butterfly, Stede wants to say, and almost does say before Ed is turning around to face him. He looks sad, is the first thing Stede notices, before he’s really taken in the whole image of Ed.
His hair is falling into his face, damp with sweat, as he sniffles into the blanket around his shoulders. His nose has a little bit of a red tinge to it as if it’s irritated. His poor, poor nose.
“Oh, love,” Stede says, gently, like talking too loud will blow Ed and his sickly spirit right through the window. “Are you not feeling well?”
Ed looks up to him as he pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders. There’s a haze over his eyes. Stede steps forward, intent on giving him a hug, squeezing away all his illness, when Ed steps back, shaking his head.
“I’m fine.” He says, through the scratchiest throat Stede has ever heard. Even more so than that time after they were at Anne and Mary’s, and Ed smoked as if it was competition.
Stede raises a brow, suspicious. “Uh huh…”
Ed pulls a face. Stede can see right through it. “What? Don’t look at me like that.” Ed says, congested voice cracking on the consonant. “I’m fine. How’re you?”
Stede bites his lip, fighting hard not to put his hands on his hips and huff and stomp and sentence Ed to an afternoon of bedrest and tea. “Well, I’m fine.” He tells Ed. “What’s the blanket for?”
“I was cold.” Ed says, defensive. “You must be freezing.”
“It’s July, Ed.”
Ed huffs, like, so what?
“Why the tea?” Stede gestures towards the rattling kettle where Ed has prepared himself a mug and a lemon verbena tea bag. It’s the kind that Stede prepares them on cozy nights in — different from the caffeinated orange pekoe to get ready for the day.
“Get out of my business, man.” Ed says. It stings, kinda. Stede loves being in his business. “If I was sick why wouldn’t I admit it?”
I can see your nose running. I can feel you shiver. I can tell when you’re feeling miserable. “No reason.” Stede says. If Ed’s gonna play that game, then Stede will play too. Ed doesn't have to know he’s on the same team. “I guess I’m wrong then.” Stede says.
Ed looks at him, up and down then up again. “Don’t beat yourself up about it babe. I don’t get sick. It just doesn’t happen.”
Ahh. That’s it.
“Well… you must have a very strong immune system, then.”
“Yep.” Ed says, popping the p. “Super strong. Never been sick in my life, actually.”
“Sure.” Stede says. “So, if you’re in perfect health, you would be up for a trip to the market today?”
He watches Ed hesitate. “I mean— when’s the last time we had a day in?”
Stede jogs his memory, but does not have to run back too far. “Yesterday, Ed.” They had spent the day inside writing letters to the crew and trying to track down Livvy to send them back. It was lovely. Ed made roast veg for dinner, and they retired early— Ohh. He was tired. Stede swallows down the urge to raise his voice.
“Right.” Ed says. “Well. I’ve got a lot to do around here.” He gestures around the empty room, sniffling. “You go ahead, though.” He says under his breath, peeking at Stede through his eyelashes.
“What if I help you?”
Ed takes a breath of relief. “I mean, if you insist.”
“I rather do.” Stede says, and for the first time this morning Ed smiles.
–
As the morning trickles into afternoon Stede finds it increasingly difficult to argue with Ed. Every time he sniffs or sneezes it’s just allergies, when he coughs it’s the dust in the air, when he stands in the middle of the room rubbing his temples it’s because Stede’s nagging is doing his head in, but not really, babe, don’t make that face, I’m only kidding.
It’s noon when Ed crashes. Stede watches him through the kitchen window as Ed’s out in the garden rooting up god knows what. He watches him wheeze in the muggy air and sit down in the soft soil, arms outstretched towards the sun. Ed does this, sometimes, to soak in the heat and the light and the cleanness of it all, but today it makes Stede feel a little wheezy in his gut. He watches as Ed lies down and doesn't get up for two minutes, three, five—
Stede marches out to the garden. He can hear Ed before he really comes upon him, snoring as he sleeps right on top of Stedes hydrangea bush. Ugh. But—
“Ed, darling.” Stede tries, nudging him. Nothing. Ed stays asleep but nuzzles into Stede’s touch, peaceful as a puma. He crouches down to graze a hand on Ed’s forehead, finding it far too hot even as Ed lays in the sun. Of course he has a fever. He’s been unsteady on his feet, sweating and sad all day. Stede should have checked before.
Gentle as he can, Stede brings one arm to Ed’s back and another to the back of his knees, carrying him out of the garden and into the home again. Ed stays asleep, but gloriously breathing, making little mimimi noises and soft pained murmurs every so often indicative of the way he’s feeling. Stede changes his clothes into light linens, takes a cold cloth to Ed’s skin to scrub away the filth of the morning. He sits Ed down in their bed, tucking a light sheet around his middle, and laying a kiss on his sweaty forehead.
“Blegh.” Stede whispers. “That was— well, I didn't think that through just then, did I?” He runs a hand through Ed’s hair. “It’s okay, my love. You’ll feel better soon.”
He soon transitions to braiding Ed’s hair for him, two braids down the back so that it’s not in his face. He’s gotten good practice over the past few months, like his little secret talent. Stede’s learned to do french braids, dutch braids, fishtails— one that Ed calls a loopyloop, for days when the heat is especially vulgar. “Your pretty face,” Stede says, brushing the last little hairs out of the way. “Your hot face, I should say.” Stede laughs to himself. “You know. Fever and all that.” Ed sleeps through it all, still, but Stede thinks that if he were awake he would laugh.
Stede stays by his bedside through the afternoon into the evening, only stepping out periodically to grab fresh water and bland crackers for when Ed wakes up. He’s never seen Ed this sick before— or sick at all, if Stede thinks hard about it. It hurts to think that Ed’s first instinct was to hide away when he felt like this. Stede would sit by his bedside forever, in sickness or in health. Does Ed know that?
“You’ll feel better,” he tells Ed, again and again and again throughout the night. He hopes it seeps into his dreams.
The sun is just cresting over the horizon when Stede hears Ed take an exceptionally large inhale. It startles him out of his own sleepy daze, as he looks up to see Ed finally awake, blinking, processing the change of scenery.
“Good morning.” Stede whispers.
“Hey—” Ed starts, before he’s interrupted by a bout of coughs that practically shake the bed. Stede winces and brings a hand to Ed’s back, rubbing gently.
“Poor thing.” Stede whispers, and this time Ed doesn't protest. Ed slunks forward, shoulders tucking in as he turns to Stede, wordlessly reaching for a hug. “Ohh, darling.” Stede says again, tucked right into the crevice of Ed’s shoulder and his lovely lovely face. “You’ll be alright.” Stede checks his forehead again, the lite fever gone. Stede relishes in the cool feeling, thanking the spirits that kept Ed safe, and thanking themselves.
“This is bullshit.” Ed says. He sniffs, pulls away and looks at Stede, his frown quickly softening to something sweeter. “You braided my hair.” He whispers, like he’s found the key to Atlantis, not having the bare minimum sweet treatment from his boyfriend.
Stede nods. “Is it okay?”
Ed brings a hand up, holding one of the braids in his hand. “ ‘S nice. Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Stede says, meaning it wholly and truly. “Do you need anything? I can grab you some fresh water— how's your tum? We have ginger, if it’s feeling upset.”
“No, I’m alright.”
“Don’t lie—” Stede starts, but Ed interrupts him with a raised hand.
“I’m really fine. Like, right at this moment.” He clarifies. “You take good care…. you know. Of me.” He says, meek, and Stede nearly risks infection to kiss Ed square on his lips. Instead, he grabs Ed’s outstretched hand.
“Well. You’re easy to care for.”
“Not really.” Ed sniffs again. “I was being a dick to you earlier.”
“I meant that it’s easy to love you, Ed.”
Ed looks up, doe-eyes turning misty. Stede doesn't want to upset him any farther, so he just continues. “And it’s okay, honestly. Irritability is often a symptom of viral rhinitis.”
“Huh?”
“A common cold, my love.”
Ed huffs, situating himself back down. “This isin’t fuckin’ common, I can tell you that much. Fuckin… uncommon.”
“Abnormal.” Stede supplies.
“Outlandish.”
“Just terrible, really.”
Ed nods, agreeing. “Still sorry, anyways.”
“Don’t be.” Stede assures. “I would probably act the same, if I felt so poorly. If you pretend that something isint there…”
“Yeah.” Ed finishes. Stede aches to think of little Ed, pretending he wasn't sick when he was feeling miserable as he is now. He wishes he was there.
“But just tell me next time, would you? Or don’t go gardening when you’re already burning up? It was quite the sight, finding you crashed out there. Any longer and I’m sure you would have become a plant yourself. I’m here to help you when you need it.”
“Usually I can get through it.” Ed shrugs. “A day of taking it slow and I’m back to business afterwards.”
Stede shrugs. “You’re old.”
“Hey!”
“What I meant to say is—”
Ed laughs as he butts in. “Nah, you’re right. I’m still six months younger than you, though.”
Stede squeezes his hand. “Low blow.”
Ed coughs again, then, rough and graveled down his throat. “Ughh. Ew. I feel like shit.”
“I couldn’t tell.” Stede says, sarcastic. “Let me grab you some water.” He rises.
“Wait—” Ed starts. “Stede?”
“Yes?”
“Could you get me some of that ginger?”
“Of course.”
“And the thicker quilt? From the front room?”
“Mhm—”
“Oh, and my knitting, please, babe?”
Stede winks as he turns away, out of the bedroom. He grabs the quilt first, bringing it to Ed and tucking him in tight around the legs like he likes.
“Mmm.” Ed says, satisfied, though his congestion has taken away a lot of his m sounds. He sounds a little funny, humming and hawwing, but Stede would never laugh. “I feel a little better.” Ed says.
“Do you now?” Stede teases. “What else can I do to help?”
“I dunno.” Ed shrugs, but he looks up at Stede through his eyelashes. “Like, ffff, lemme think.”
Stede steps a little closer. “Well?”
“Well, you could, like, kiss it better? If you want?”
Stede tilts, placing a gentle kiss to Ed’s cheek. “How’s it now?”
“All gone.” Ed teases. “I’m cured.”
Stede smiles before he turns again, amping to get the rest of what Ed requested, when an arm reaches out to grab his own. “Stede?” Ed asks.
“Yes, my love?”
“Thank you. Love you.”
And one more kiss on the cheek never hurt anyone, did it?
—
It was bound to happen, really. Just as Ed is coming around the bend, truly really feeling better, a tickle appears in Stede’s throat.
It happens on day five of Ed’s cold. The twinkle is back Ed's eye and Stede could weep for it. He could stare into Ed’s beautiful brown eyes until the cows came home, if Ed let him. Maybe Ed would. Maybe he just has to ask…
Either way, when Stede wakes that morning, he feels rather like the rough side of a sponge. His head is pounding, his nose feels stuffed. He wants to cry, a little bit. Stede hacks a muffled cough into the crook of his elbow, prays that Ed didn't hear him from his place cuddled into Stede’s side. Stede curses himself as Ed rises up, quick as a whip to look at Stede up and down.
“Oh no.”
“I’m fine—” Stede immediately argues, but even talking makes his head feel more tender. He winces as he tries to get out of bed, but Ed lays a palm flat out on his chest, practically holding him down.
“No, nup. Not playing this game, again.” Ed’s words are sharp but his tone is soft, so soft Stede falls into it. “How are you feeling?” He asks Ed, words mushy.
“Better.” Ed says. He strokes the hair back on Stede’s forehead, feeling the skin there. “You don’t have a fever.” Ed tells him. “So, yay.”
“Yay indeed.”
“Get some rest though, sweetheart, okay? I’ll bring you some brekkie—”
“You don’t have to.” Stede says. “I can grab it for us?”
“You can stay here.” Ed says, emulating Stede’s speech, tilting his words up at the end. “Chill, love. I’m fine. Let me take care of you.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s only payback.” Ed says. “Only fair.”
“Hmm.” Stede agrees, closing his eyes again. The pillow is soft behind his aching head, and he can nearly ignore his swirling nausea and out-of-sorts-ness as he hears Ed whisper, “I’ll be right back. Don’t even worry about it. I’ll take care of ‘ya.”
“Thank you,” he tells Ed. “Love you.”
And all the worries Stede had are relieved with the press of a kiss to the side of his head, stable and sure and certain.