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—
The long nights of winter are some of the crew’s favourites, actually, because there’s fuckall to do. There’s dinner, yeah: usually delicious, always slightly surprising, always served with Roach’s trademark mix of threatening and nonchalant. There’s the final tasks of the night, making sure everything’s squared away, ship-shape and all that, but this time of the year there’s not as much trade, so they’re a little less likely to need to react on a moment’s notice, so.
It’s not that they let things slide (much): rather, it’s that things get a little looser, as the nights stretch towards the new year.
And then of course, there’s reading time, which. Well.
Sometimes it’s delayed a bit.
—
“Captains?” Frenchie knocks again at the door, three quick raps, and inside, there’s the scuffle of movement, and—is that a bell? Something jingling, anyway, and a giggle, and a thump, and Frenchie glances over his shoulder at Wee John, shrugs, and decides he’ll come back in a few, maybe. Or send Lucius? It’s his turn to want to gouge his eyes out, actually, he figures.
The thing is, though, they’re working their way through the one with the wooden boy, and this time, Stede’s promised they’re going to finish it before the new year, which is, by Frenchie’s calculations—and by the Gregorian calendar, that weasley, slippery thing, all its leap years and sneaky bits, and by the ship’s logbook, too—it’s tomorrow. So. They’ve got pages to go before they sleep, is all he’s saying. And they’ve got plans tonight, too. Plans that are non-negotiable.
He knocks again, and this time—silence.
Hm.
He swings his lute down from his shoulder and strums thoughtfully. He might need some reinforcements for this.
—
Fang’s on watch duty tonight—he likes the first watch of the night, actually, likes the quiet of it, likes the way things don’t tend to go wrong yet and likes the way that he can settle down afterwards and sleep through till the morning, if everything goes all right, curled up beside Roachie or Lucius or tucked tight between Frenchie’s elbows and Wee John’s warmth. It’s a good place, this ship, even if it’s not like any other ship he’s ever been on.
Maybe especially because of that.
So when he hears the crash from below, he has literally no idea what to expect when he rushes down.
He follows the sound of voices to the Captains’ cabin, finds most of the crew gathered around the door, which is not particularly odd—it’s a ship without a strict chain of command, usually, and so they’re always up in each other’s business. He still remembers fondly the way he’d stretched out on Stede’s soft silk sheets for Lucius to sketch him, that first week on the ship.
“I don’t know, babe!” Pete’s saying. “I wasn’t like, watching them!”
“But they were in there,” Lucius says. “I heard them in there!”
“We’re going to miss our reading time?” says Swede. “If we don’t find Captain soon, we’ll never know if the wooden boy gets flesh?”
“They probably fucked off into one of the stupid tunnels,” says Jim. “We can finish the fucking thing tomorrow, whatever!”
“Captain said by New Years?” Swede moans. “It is New Year’s Eve?”
“Guys!” Oluwande raises his voice over the chatter. “I’m sure they’re fine, I’m sure—”
“Is that blood?” Zheng says from inside the cabin, where she’s kneeling by a stain on the floor.
“Nah,” says Roach, pushing his way in beside her. “It’s jam.”
Roach bends down and confidently sweeps a finger through the sticky mark before bringing it to his lips. He sucks and releases it with a loud smack.
“Yep, strawberry.”
Zheng wrinkles her nose in distaste before turning to Olu.
“Where the hell did they go?”
—
Ed peers out from behind the chair leg.
“They’re totally stumped, babe,” he giggles, “look at Zheng’s face!”
Stede leans forward and looks around Ed’s shoulder.
“They do look rather confused! Look, Pete is looking up at the ceiling! As if we could fly up there!”
They collapse into giggles, attempting to muffle them in each other’s shoulders.
“Sshhhh,” Ed whispers, “they’ll hear us!”
“Not bloody likely, Ed, we’re tiny! How could they hear us when we’re so small? We probably sound like mice, or crickets.”
Right as Stede finishes speaking, Fang cocks his head towards them, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Oh shit!”
Ed pulls Stede back behind the thick leg of the armchair.
“Fang has really fucking good hearing, says he can hear the fish burping when he’s out fishing.”
“But Ed -”
Ed clamps a hand over Stede’s mouth, cutting him off mid-flow.
They stand there waiting until Ed hears the heavy clump of footsteps leaving the cabin, the last of the crews’ voices fading away.
“Ok,” he breathes, releasing Stede, “they’ve gone to search the rest of the ship.”
“Perfect!” Stede rubs his hands together in glee. “What shall we do first? Mischief? Shenanigans? A fuckery ?”
Ed glances down at himself.
“We’d probably better put something on before all that, looks like the shrinking magic didn’t work on our clothes.”
He nods his head over at the enormous pile of fabric pooled on the floor where they stood moments before, when they first decided to make use of the special shrinking potion they bought from a trader at the market. Ed had dropped his jam on toast in shock when it actually worked , when the cabin surrounding them started getting bigger and bigger, and the cabin floor came closer and closer, and his robe became a huge ocean of deep blue velvet flowing deeper and deeper around him.
Stede is standing with his hands on his hips, flaccid penis bobbing as he turns towards Ed.
“What? Why?”
“Because, babe, remember that time that Frenchie walked in on us?”
Stede scrunches his nose up in a way that Ed finds, frankly, adorable.
“What, the time with the feathers?”
“No -”
“The time with the desk? Because that was shoddy workmanship, a desk should be able to withstand -”
“No, not the desk, babe, none of those things were the point, the point was, we made them embarrassed . When they saw us naked. So we should try to not let it happen again.”
Stede nods his head thoughtfully.
“Yes, I suppose it’s not very captainly, is it, to be caught in dishabille .”
“Exactly,” Ed agrees, “we should try and find something to put on, for the crew’s sake.”
—
It takes far longer than either of them anticipate to make their way across the floor of the cabin.
The persian rug that occupies the middle of the space is an enormous expanse of woolly desert, their legs sinking deep into the soft pile and the fibres itching their noses. They decide to make their way around the perimeter, following the curved edge, which isn’t as direct but probably faster. Still, Ed is panting by the time they reach the shelves next to the bed nook. He bends over to catch his breath and rub at his knee.
“Oh, Ed, let me, please.”
Ed smiles to himself. Stede has become a self-appointed expert in the art of massaging Ed Teach’s bad knee. It’s only a matter of moments before Stede is kneeling at his feet, strong hands gripping Ed’s muscles and pressing firm fingers into the stiff joints. Ed rests his hand lightly in Stede’s soft hair as he works, head thrown back and eyes shut in satisfaction as the pain is eased by Stede’s care and attention. Stede is humming softly to himself, letting out little ‘hmm’s and ‘ah, yes’s that make Ed feel warm and tingly inside. And yeah, they’re both naked right now, and Stede often kneels at Ed’s feet to show his body another kind of care and attention, but this is just as intimate, just as equal a way of showing Ed his love.
“Any better, my love?”
Stede stills the movement as he looks up questioningly, and Ed meets his gaze with a nod.
“Good as new, babe,” he winks. It’s a standard line, a joke he’s made many times before, but the point remains true. Stede makes everything feel good as new, even his dodgy old knee.
Once Stede has got to his feet, and pressed a warm close-lipped kiss to Ed’s cheek, they explore the contents of the bed nook. Well, Stede starts manhandling the curtains, wrapping them around his body and yanking the fabric this way and that, while Ed belly flops into the fur pelt on the floor. And oh, this is blissful, like sinking into a cloud. Ed’s whole body is enveloped by the silvery grey fur, soft against his bare skin. The hairs are silky smooth and so thick they support him entirely, meaning he can lie spread-eagled as if floating in the ocean. He wiggles a bit, enjoying the sensations.
“Ed, darling, what do you think?”
Stede’s voice is muffled, and Ed can’t see anything beyond the fluff tickling his nose. He shuffles backwards, using his hands and feet to part the waves of fur. Like swimming, Ed thinks to himself, if swimming was really fucking tickly.
He’s giggling by the time he slithers out onto the wooden deck. It’s cold, and hard, and Ed is suddenly particularly conscious of his naked state, which just makes him giggle more. He glances up at Stede.
“Ah, there you are, Ed,” Stede continues, unbothered by Ed’s slightly hysterical laughter, “what do you think?”
Stede has somehow managed to tear a section of the diaphanous inner curtain fabric, draping it over himself in the manner of a toga. The golden embroidery sets off the golden glint of his hair beautifully.
“Beautiful, babe,” Ed grins, managing to suppress his giggles enough to speak.
Stede does a little twirl, and that’s enough to set Ed off again.
“What?” Stede huffs out, sounding peeved.
“It’s just, it’s just a bit see-through babe. Like, I can see your butt through it.”
“Really?” Stede twists his head round, attempting to catch a glimpse of his own rear end, “Well, Ed, is that so terrible?”
“Not to me,” Ed grins wolfishly, “but it kind of defeats the point of covering up to not embarrass the crew.”
“Hm, true,” Stede concedes.
Ed’s gaze roams around the cabin, considering the possibilities. All the fabric in his eye line is too big, and they have no means of cutting or sewing.
“Ah ha!”
Stede looks over expectantly.
“You know the way they put fig leaves on statues?” Ed nods over towards a vase of flowers across the room. “Well, how about rose petals on pirate captains?”
–
Ed starts to regret his plan once they make it to the little side table with the pretty vase of flowers arranged on top. The lace tablecloth is hanging down just out of reach, meaning he has to clamber onto Stede’s shoulders to reach it. And yes, it’s nice, sitting on his wide shoulders and feeling Stede’s soft golden curls tickle his belly, but Stede is huffing and puffing about Ed’s apparently bony arse and now Ed is getting annoyed too. He manages to catch the edge of the lace in his fist, but tugging it with all his strength barely moves it an inch.
“Stede. You have to move backwards, I need to pull it.”
“I am going backwards, darling -”
“No, back towards the chair, that way -”
Ed grips the side of Stede’s head with his thighs and steers him like a horse - which, maybe he needs to revisit, another time - but that does the trick, and Ed yanks the fabric in his fist as they move, and the tablecloth comes slithering down towards them. Of course, that brings down the vase too, which Ed intended, but he overlooked the fact that it was probably filled with water, as well as flowers.
“Shit!”
The vase hits the floor of the cabin with a thud, and a cold spray of water drenches them. Stede buckles underneath Ed, staggering backwards before sitting hard on the wooden planks.
“OooWW!” Stede squeals. Probably from the pain of thudding onto his arse. Or possibly from the way that Ed is holding his hair in a death grip to keep from falling. Ed relaxes his hands and gets to his feet, shaking the water from his hair.
“Fuck, sorry love, you ok?”
“Yes,” Stede grumbles, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
There’s a sudden rumbling shaking the planks beneath them. Thudding, approaching footsteps.
“Quick, grab a petal!”
–
Fang softly pushes open the door to the captain’s cabin and peers inside. He’d joined the searching of the rest of the ship, of course, looking inside barrels and opening cupboards and even peering over the rail to examine the dark waves below. But he’s not a fool - he knows Ed and Stede are often like naughty children - and naughty children never stray far from the scene of mischief. The noise of some heavy object hitting the floor had confirmed his suspicions.
He takes in the room in front of him, all still and normal, until his gaze wanders to the pool of water over by the bed nook. He can’t help the giggle that escapes him. Standing next to it are two tiny bedraggled figures, clutching - are those rose petals? - against themselves.
“Yes, yes, very funny!” Tiny Stede squeaks, which makes Fang giggle harder.
“Kevin, mate,” Tiny Ed waves up at him, “we need your help finding something to wear. Damn clothes are too big now.”
“Sure, boss,” Fang nods, “but the crew are looking for you two, they reckon you promised them the rest of the wooden boy story by New Year’s, and that’s in 10 minutes.”
“Shit,” Tiny Stede frowns, “I forgot about that.”
“Hold on -” Fang rummages around in his pockets for a moment, before bringing out a small square of grey fabric. It looks soft, thinks Ed.
“This is ‘blankey’. Used to be mine, when I was little. Could lend it to you, if you like,” Fang says in a shy voice.
“Oh Fang,” Stede sounds choked up, “that’s lovely.”
“We’d be honoured, Kev,” Ed nods, sounding equally emotional.
Fang bends down and wraps the two tiny captains in blankey. Ed was right, it’s soft, so soft, and warm and it smells like soap and cedarwood. Fang scoops them up together, nestling them in the crook of his solid arm. Ed shuffles into Stede’s side, smiling softly when Stede puts an arm around his shoulders.
–
The crew find it all hilarious, of course.
Jim laughs harder than Stede has ever seen them laugh before, and Lucius won’t stop making puns about tiny things, but they also all seem relieved to see them again. And yes, they do really need to figure out how to get back to regular size, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. For tonight, Stede has a promise to keep.
“All right, all right, settle down, crew,” Stede says, rearranging the blanket so it drapes over both of them. “We’re all anxious to see how it ends…”
An expectant calm spreads over the crew, eyes closed or on Stede, hands still or busy with repetitive tasks, bodies curled together or splayed out.
Stede takes a deep breath, and begins.