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The really annoying thing, Ed thought, was that he’d been honestly considering asking this guy out before he’d revealed himself to be a complete and utter bastard.
See, Ed had had a shitty day, one of a very long string of shitty days, and the last thing he needed was some random hot guy waltzing into the same Trader Joe’s at two p.m. on a Monday afternoon and stealing the last loaf of pancake bread.
Ed wasn’t saying he was emotionally attached to that loaf of pancake bread. But he wasn’t not saying that.
He just needed a fucking win, was the thing. Just one win. For the past - fuck, probably the past couple years, if he was being honest, the restaurant had been doing nothing but grinding him down. He thought he’d finally be happy when he got the Michelin stars; if anything, they only added to the pressure until Ed felt like he could barely breathe under the weight of all of it. He was overworked, exhausted, severely under-fucked…
And today, fuck if he knew why, but something had snapped.
Usually, Ed was pretty good at taking all the pressure and the yelling and the stress, and just keeping it inside him, refusing to let it break out except for at night when he cried himself to sleep, biting down on his knuckles to keep the noise down even though he lived alone.
But today, his brand manager Izzy just hadn’t stopped. Usually, it was manageable. Ed was used to Izzy breathing down his neck, demanding to know every thought in Ed’s head, even though he always just kept nagging and nagging when Ed tried to start explaining his thought processes for the new menu items and the release schedule and what to say on TV appearances. Ed was used to letting Izzy shout himself hoarse, and then tell Ed “you’ve still got it” when things invariably worked out fine. Izzy was just one of those people who seemed to be miserable unless he was on a power trip, which usually involved making Ed miserable by proxy.
But today.
God, fuck, today.
Izzy had just kept getting under his skin. Shouting right out the gate. Ceaseless pestering about how he needed to have his presentations for a big conference this weekend ready, and when Ed started talking to him about how “y’know, it’s almost pumpkin spice season” as an obvious lead-in to his new planned line of pumpkin spice products, Izzy just still hadn’t stopped nagging. He'd even just taken the excuse to rant about how it apparently "wasn't even pumpkin spice season," and told Ed he was losing his touch. He always acted entitled to Ed's time, but it just got under his skin, how Izzy was so convinced that Ed was like some stupid little child who needed constant micro-managing.
“We need a plan. Edward, we need a plan. Blackbeard, we’re all gonna fucking die if you don’t figure this out. We need a plan now. Edward, focus. We need a plan.”
Never mind that Ed had gotten everything planned out months ago, and if Izzy just bothered to listen to him when he was trying to plant obvious lead-ins…sometimes, it felt like no one understood Ed at all.
Then Izzy had started talking about how he’d have to figure out something on his own, if Ed didn’t, and Ed had heard this tantrum before. The usual plan of action was to take Izzy aside, waste thirty minutes calming him down, and walk him through what Ed had tried to tell him hours ago.
Today, though…well, Ed had finally snapped.
“Alright,” he’d said, and he’d untied his apron and dropped it into Izzy’s hands. “Good luck, mate.”
And he’d waved, told Fang and Ivan they were free to take the day off if they wanted, and he’d turned his phone off and walked right the fuck out.
Which led him here. To Trader Joe’s.
Ed had considered, as he’d pulled away from the restaurant, doing something fun. Something that might make him feel happy and good, like going to see a movie, or walking around a shopping mall, or having a nice meal. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full meal.
He was so unused to ideas like that, it had kinda scared him out of it.
So. Trader Joe’s.
As far as American grocery stores went, Ed figured this was a good one. It was the only place you could find Kosher meat and fish within a two-hour drive. The groceries were fun and unique and usually the same price or cheaper than other supermarkets, and Ed might not have had to worry about money anymore, but he still wasn’t in the practice of wasting it.
But the real draw, for him, was the pancake bread, sold in little loaves on the little bakery table near the back of the store for four bucks and fifty cents a pop.
Did the pancake bread actually taste like pancakes? Ehh, kinda.
What did it taste like? Ed honestly wasn’t sure he could explain it. It was kinda like a subtly maple-flavored coffee cake, with syrupy-flavored crumble on top.
Did he like it? Oh, no.
Ed loved that shit.
The pancake bread was moist, sweet, and so delicious he had to exercise enormous amounts of self-control not to put away the whole loaf in one sitting.
And after Ed’s shitty fucking day, he deserved his fucking pancake bread.
He went through his grocery shopping on autopilot, having to force himself not to check his phone to see what kind of disaster was currently going down in his voicemail. He grabbed a few freezer meals, which were usually pretty good and meant he’d actually have dinner if he got home too tired to cook for himself after cooking for others all day. They carried a frozen butter chicken meal that was damn good, and Ed picked up a bag of sweet potato fries, couple jars of cookie butter to eat with his fingers straight out of the jar, some salmon burgers, considered if the inherent shame of buying freezer bags of cooked vegetables as a chef was worth the luxury of not having to prepare them himself…
And, occasionally, he kept seeing the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen wandering through the aisles, his cart full of herb plants, his short shorts leaving very little to the imagination, and his gorgeous blond curls bouncing as he walked.
Ed thought he might’ve been in love.
Maybe things were looking up.
But then, his mind full of a plot to perhaps pretend to be hit by a car to get Gorgeous McChesthair to swoop in and rescue him, heading to the back of the store to pick up his pancake bread…
He could only watch in horror as Holy Shit His Calves stole the last loaf of pancake bread that rightfully belonged to Ed.
The fucking bastard.
Genuinely, Ed thought as he glared at Sexy Dimples from the spice aisle as the thief perused the frozen breakfast section, his stupid thieving ass looking amazing in those shorts, he tried to let it go. He tried to just take it in stride.
But he needed one win. He needed one thing. He’d had his heart set on that pancake bread, at least having one tiny thing to look forward to to let him know it was worth it to keep going.
He had to ask for the bread. No other choice. He couldn’t go home without it.
Ed felt himself blush as stupid Mr. Amazing Legs turned around, caught his eye, and smiled at him, and he quickly ducked his head behind the box of pumpkin spice-flavored pancake mix he’d been holding.
(Take that, Izzy. It was pumpkin spice season.)
Maybe Ed could just take the L on this one. The chocolate babka they sold here wasn’t bad at all, especially not warmed up for a few seconds in the microwave. Ed could settle for that. Or maybe he could try some coconut macaroons, those looked good…
Then Ed remembered all the shit at the restaurant, and he knew he needed the win. He at least had to try.
He worked through his game plan as he casually rolled his cart over to where the thief was thoughtfully examining the back of a bag of plantain chips. It would be super casual and chill, and no big deal if it didn’t work out.
Simple. Just a hey there, I’m really sorry to bother you, I just noticed you’ve got yourself a loaf of pancake bread, and that’s the last one and I kinda had my heart set on having some. Can I maybe pay you for it, or buy you something else instead?
Ed was honestly considering that he’d probably buy this guy’s entire order for him just to get that bread. He needed one thing to go right for him, just one, and that way he knew he’d be okay.
Plus, might get a chance to flirt with him, too! Win-win!
“Excuse me,” Ed said, and he smiled back when Stupid Gorgeous Pancake Bread Thief lifted his head with a polite smile.
Then all the shit in his life came rushing back in all at once, feeling like it smashed right into Ed’s chest, so overwhelming he barely knew what to do with it.
Ed promptly burst into tears.
“Oh,” the poor guy squeaked, dropping the bag of chips back onto the shelf. “Oh - oh no, did I do something? Are you alright? Do I - am I ugly?”
That made Ed laugh, despite the ugly hitching sobs he was currently doing his best to bury into his hands, that this gorgeous guy would automatically just assume that he was so ugly it had made Ed start sobbing.
“You’re gorgeous,” Ed managed to sob out.
“Oh,” he said. “Am I…so pretty that -”
“I’m not crying because of you,” Ed cried, wrapping one arm around his chest to hug himself while he did his best to wipe away tears with the other. “It’s - you stole the last loaf of pancake bread!”
God, he sounded fucking pathetic, and so stupid, crying over this, and now he’d obviously blown any shot he might’ve had with this guy -
“Here,” he heard, and he looked up to see his thief holding out the loaf of pancake bread. “You obviously need it much more than I do!”
Ed sniffled, managed to look up for just long enough to make a sort of meep noise, and dissolved into sobs again.
“Oh, dear,” his thief mumbled, fumbling awkwardly around in his cart, as if his new basil plant could’ve helped Ed. “Can I - do you want a hug?”
Ed hadn’t had a hug in what felt like years.
“Please,” he whimpered, absolutely pathetic, and -
Dammit, of course this thieving bastard gave amazing hugs. He was warm and soft, strong arms holding Ed tight, whispering sweet things that no one ever said to Ed, like “it’s okay” and “I’ve got you” and “you’re safe” and “it’ll all be alright.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ed finally managed to mumble, pulling back, wiping at his red, swollen eyes in irritated swipes of his hands. “I didn’t mean to - I’ve had the worst day. I’m - uh, I’m Ed. Hey.”
“Hey. Stede.” Stede gave Ed one last quick squeeze before letting him go, and Ed privately mourned the loss of contact. “That makes two of us having awful days, I suppose. My wife just gave me divorce papers.”
“Oh, no,” Ed groaned, mostly because he assumed that meant Stede was straight.
“It’s alright, it was a long time coming,” Stede sighed, waving a hand, “not least of all because I’m gay and I know she’s been having an affair with another man for months. It’s best for all of us.”
“Still,” Ed winced, internally celebrating, just a bit. “It all blows. I’m just…I feel like my job is gonna kill me. And I had my heart set on a loaf of pancake bread.”
“It’s actually the whole reason I came here,” Stede admitted, looking down at the little loaf box. “God, Ed, it’s like…do you ever feel…”
“Like you’re just treading water,” Ed finished, when Stede trailed off. “Waiting to drown.”
“Yeah,” Stede nodded. “And you just need one fucking win. Just one thing. Even if it’s just a loaf of pancake bread, you can keep going, just for that one little thing.”
Well, shit, Ed couldn’t take his pancake bread now -
“Hey.” Stede gently nudged Ed’s elbow with his own. “Wanna share it with me?”
Ed grinned, and it felt, for the first time in years, like he was gonna be okay.
He learned, as they checked out, that Stede was actually a bit of a lunatic. He insisted on trying to pay for Ed’s groceries, and Ed insisted on trying to pay for his, so they eventually decided to just run it all as one big transaction and split it evenly down the middle. Stede had just bought the short shorts at the mall down the street, apparently, trying to dress in things that were fun for the first time in forever, and he told Ed that he should get a matching pair. So they could match.
They split the loaf right there on the curb in front of the store, sharing it with plastic forks, and Stede reached out to take any crumbs out of his beard. Ed might’ve dropped a few in there intentionally, just to cherish the warmth of Stede’s hand and the gentleness in his touch.
They both insisted that the other could have the last of it, and wound up just feeding each other smaller and smaller bites off their forks.
“Keep a secret?” Stede whispered.
The crisp early-autumn day was the most beautiful Ed could remember. The changing leaves, the refreshing breeze, the cloudless, aching blue sky…nothing had changed from yesterday, except for Ed, and it was gorgeous.
“Yeah,” he whispered back.
“I don’t want this to end.”
Ed tentatively let his smile match Stede’s grin. “Me, neither.”
They wound up heading to the mall to get Ed a pair of those short shorts, and Stede insisted on buying Ed lots of snacks after he demolished the meal they shared in the food court. That turned into a movie, and Stede surprising Ed with flowers he’d sneakily hidden in their cart at Trader Joe’s when Ed hadn’t been looking, and then exchanging numbers and promising to see each other soon. Meeting up for lunch turned into dates turned into Stede encouraging Ed to retire from the restaurant turned into the kind of happy life Ed had never even dared to hope he could have.
Ed still called Stede his thief. The story about how they’d met when Stede stole the last loaf of pancake bread was a hit at parties, even if Stede objected to the word steal.
Nickname was still accurate, Ed knew, because Stede had stolen his heart, too.