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It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon. The curtains are open and sun is streaming in through the bedroom window, dappling golden light across Stede’s bare torso.
Ed’s head is resting in his hand, propped up on one elbow as he watches his husband sleeping peacefully.
The house is much quieter than usual. Lucius very generously offered to take Alma and Louis out for ice cream today, though Ed expects that has something to do with the fact that Louis said Izzy was his favourite uncle when they were all out at breakfast together this morning - Lucius is undoubtedly keen to regain his usual status.
Ed stretches, soaking in the sunlight and the silence, before shifting closer to Stede. He’s been napping, sound asleep, since about fifteen minutes after the kids left.
Five seconds after he closed the door behind Lucius, Stede had grabbed Ed’s hand, pulling him off the couch and dragging him upstairs with a lot of filthy promises about an afternoon spent alone together in bed. He had delivered on exactly none of those promises, however, since he almost immediately succumbed to a condition many parents of two-under-ten struggle with: falling asleep as soon as you’re horizontal.
They’d gotten undressed between enthusiastic kisses, but once they actually got into bed, it only took about five minutes for Stede’s weight on top of him to turn to deadweight and his kisses to the side of Ed’s neck to turn to gentle snores. Ed had laughed softly and carefully rolled Stede off of him, curling up against his husband’s chest to take a much needed nap himself.
Now Ed’s awake and admiring the soft edges of Stede’s body, the reddish blonde hair scattered over his chest and arms, the smooth lines of his well-defined pecs (a favourite of Ed’s) and the subtle swell of his stomach (another favourite). But what catches Ed’s eye most today are the freckles that adorn nearly every square inch of Stede’s upper-half. There must be hundreds of them.
Ed reaches out, lightly tracing his fingers over Stede’s left shoulder, his touch not firm enough to wake him. His fingertips slowly brush across his chest, ghosting over his stomach and Stede makes a small, sleepy sound of contentment that Ed can easily translate as meaning he’s not awake enough to speak but is enjoying the contact. Ed shifts a little closer, dropping a soft kiss to Stede’s shoulder and slowly following the progress of his hand with his lips.
To anyone else, Stede’s freckles might seem immeasurable, impossible to count, but Ed is pretty sure he knows them all. Even with his eyes closed he can picture them as a moves across Stede’s skin.
The truth is, that after more than fifteen years together, Ed has every bit of Stede memorized. He may not have a name for each of Stede’s freckles (although that’s not a bad idea to file away for next time he’s bored), but he still knows them all, every one, just like he knows all the other pieces of Stede. And oh, how Ed loves to know him.
Knowing Stede is Ed’s greatest passion in life. He knows the cadence of Stede’s voice and how it changes depending on his mood. He knows exactly how Stede takes his tea and what kind of jam he wants on his toast depending which day of the week it is. He knows what kind of music Stede wants to listen to depending on the time of day and what TV show to turn on to cheer him up when he’s grumpy. He knows Stede’s favourite kinds of flowers and bugs and what his ideal colour palettes are for clothes and paint swatches and home decor (all different, of course). He knows what kind of detergent to pick up at the grocery store because Stede likes the way it smells and he knows to never bring home strawberries out of season.
Some might say that Ed knows everything about Stede but Ed knows there’s always more to learn. He may, right now, at this specific moment, know exactly where each of Stede’s freckles reside, even with his eyes closed, but he won’t in eight months when they’re in the height of summer and the sunlight has brought more out. He might know the way Stede’s hair shimmers in the afternoon sunlight now, but he’s yet to see the way it gleams when it’s streaked through with silver after another fifteen years together.
Stede wakes up when Ed is kissing a particularly cute and prominent freckle just above his bellybutton and pulls him up for a proper kiss. It’s soft and searching and Ed melts into it. It’s like a thousand kisses they’ve shared before but it’s different too. Ed will only ever get to kiss Stede on this sunny, lazy Sunday afternoon one time.
There will be more slow afternoons full of sleep and sunshine, Ed has no doubt of that, but they’ll never be just like this one.
Because that’s the thing Ed’s learned about spending a lifetime with someone, just because each day might seem the same as one they’ve lived before, it never really is.
Up to now, Ed has only known the Stede of last Sunday and maybe the Stede of today will sound the same and taste the same and look the same as he did last Sunday, but today he’ll kiss Ed for three seconds longer and he’ll smile just a little more brilliantly and later, after dinner as they’re cleaning the kitchen and preparing for the week ahead, he’ll tell Ed a story he’s been meaning to all week but kept forgetting, and those details might seem small or even insignificant to anyone else, but to Ed they’re all worth knowing.
To Ed, even the tiniest and most ordinary facts about Stede are precious to him and he looks forward to being around to learn them all.