Work Text:
13:01
Ed could often go a whole workday without looking outside.
The average Ikea isn’t exactly known for having a lot of windows. Maybe newer stores put more glass on their facades, but Ed’s Ikea was built more than twenty-five years ago, a solid decade before he became its manager. Only if Ed had to deal with a problem by the customer service desk by the exit or went to the bistro or the restaurant for a treat, he’d be near actual windows, and since they could only offer a bleak view—parking lot and loading bays and cart corrals all blending together in a vast expanse of gray—he might not even cast more than a short glance outside given the chance.
As such, he does a double take when he goes to the restaurant for lunch and it’s suddenly all white.
Sure, it was snowing when he drove to work—light, soft snowflakes melting as soon as they hit the windscreen—but this is proper snow, whirling past the floor-to-ceiling windowpanes and covering the ground in a thickening blanket.
“So that’s why it’s getting quiet in here,” he muses to Roach, who is adding extra spoonfuls of lingonberry jam to Ed’s plate of meatballs and mashed potatoes. While the store is overall Ed’s to captain, the restaurant is Roach’s domain.
“Yep, radio’s saying it’s only getting worse.” Roach talks while he works, portioning peas onto the plate with laid-back precision. “They’re recommending people go home and stay there.”
Ed hums in contemplation, tapping his bottom lip with his fork as Roach adds the finishing touch to his dish, the gravy.
“Thanks,” he says as Roach hands it to him over the counter. The restaurant is only sparsely dotted with customers, re-energizing after navigating the mazes before starting on the drive home or grabbing something before going in to avoid hangry shopping. Ed stays leaning against the tray rack by the counter, thinking, as Roach works behind him.
Perhaps they should close down early. It’s against policy, and Izzy, his assistant manager, would freak at the mere suggestion, but a regional weather warning has to count for exceptional circumstances, right? And if the warehouse empties out anyway, what’s the point of staying open?
The truth is that he’s kind of tired of doing the same thing day after day, making the top sales lists year after year, milling through the windowless sections where the artificial lights keep the place in perpetual daytime until 20:00, giving him whiplash when he leaves work in the winter and the sun has already been down for five hours.
He always gets swallowed extra deep into the darkness around the time January idles into February, when the holiday season is long gone and the post-holiday sales are over and all he has to look forward to are the remaining 11 months of the year, and then the next year, and the one after that.
He could go home early, of course, before his car gets completely buried out there, but it doesn’t seem fair to leave his employees to deal with this, in case it does turn worse.
He stuffs a meatball into his mouth, watching the snow make patterns in the air like a flock of birds leaving to spend the winter down south (man, if only he could do the same). But it’s not too bad yet, so he decides to wait and see.
16:54
It’s bad.
When Ed goes to the bistro for a cup of coffee, he can’t even see outside. It’s just a wall of white, not much different from the windowless enclosure of his office where he has spent the afternoon getting some administrative work done now that the store wasn’t as busy. Fuck, he should’ve parked in the basement, but the short walk to and from his car is some of the only fresh air he gets when he has these long shifts. Now, he tries remembering if they sell full-sized shovels or if he’ll have to dig out his car with a spoon from Kitchen Supplies.
Buttons, the slightly (or one might say very) odd but efficient guy working the bistro converses with K4-RL the coffee machine while preparing Ed’s caffe latte. Ed would try making small-talk, but he’s caught up in his worries, and the good thing about Buttons is that small-talk isn’t necessary, so he simply thanks him for his coffee when it’s done and heads back upstairs to take stock of the situation.
On his way through the self-serve area, he comes by Izzy, who is in the middle of reprimanding Lucius for wearing one of their yellow polo shirts with “Temporary Coworker – please don’t ask me any hard questions!” written on the back. Lucius seems entirely unbothered (as usual).
“You’ve been working here for three years, take it off.” Izzy’s strained voice has that extra grumpy Friday afternoon ring to it, because Izzy has never been much for getting into the Friday spirit, or weekend spirit, or any kind of spirit except the alcoholic kind, and he has cut down on that too. Ed stays out of sight for a moment, smiling to himself. This is a recurring issue.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate for a manager to tell a subordinate to get naked,” Lucius says with unmistakable, barely-hidden amusement. Well, not so unmistakable to Izzy, it seems, as he takes it entirely seriously, huffing and spluttering.
“I’m not—I didn’t—you know what I—“
Ed decides to intervene.
“Lucius, go change. You should give that shirt for Pete to wear.” He gestures with his cup at Lucius and meets his barely suppressed eyeroll with a stern look.
“He’s been working here longer than I have!”
“Yeah, but he needs it more.”
Lucius opens his mouth as if to protest, but then he seems to reconsider, shrugging. “You may have a point.”
“And Iz, could you check with Fang about staffing Click & Collect on Monday? Last I heard, there were some issues.”
Izzy grumbles as if shift management isn’t the main part of his job, but wanders off. With that sorted, Ed proceeds in his own thoughts up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, careful not to spill his coffee, reaching the first arrow pointing to the beginning of the showroom maze, and—
Collides directly with something golden and solid, pushing the lid off his cup and spilling over both of them.
“Shit, fuck, sorry!” Ed stumbles back, hissing at the hot liquid seeping through his yellow shirt.
“Oh no, it’s quite alright,” the man says, unexpectedly calm for a customer who just had hot coffee spilled all over him. When Ed finally takes a proper look at him, he’s stunned into silence.
It’s been forever since Ed was so immediately taken with someone, there’s just something about him, his solid build, his features, his blond fucking hair, impossibly fluffy, begging for Ed to run his fingers through it. He’s about Ed’s age, probably, but it’s hard to tell as he’s wearing sunglasses (inside?).
He wasn’t prepared to get completely bowled over by a random customer, especially not one who nearly knocked him to the floor and who, fuck, who he just splashed his coffee all over. Fucking hell, what a first impression. Just perfect. At least Blondie is not being a dick about it.
“I wasn’t looking where I was going, I guess.” He just stands there, looking down at himself, a bit lost, his formerly white button-down now stained under his open, fleece-lined coat. There’s something comforting about his voice, too, but Ed can’t determine whether it’s the familiar Kiwi accent causing him a wave of homesickness or the crisp-yet-careful enunciation, like the narrator of the children’s audiobooks he listened to on cassette tapes when he was little.
“No, it’s on me, I should’ve been more careful, I’m so fuckin’—I mean, terribly sorry.” Ed shakes himself out of his momentary paralysis and into customer service mode, just to be safe. While the man isn’t blaming him, he’s not smiling, either. From what Ed can see under the sunglasses, he just looks… exhausted.
“Come with me, I’ll help you clean up.”
“Thank you… Edward Teach,” the man reads from his name tag. Hearing his name shaped by his lips, in his voice, makes something curl up and purr in Ed’s chest. God, he hasn’t been like this about a stranger since he was a teenager, probably, cheeks heating and heart hammering. It should be embarrassing, but somehow, embarrassment doesn’t occur to him.
Ed extends his hand. “At your service. Or, in your way, I guess. Mr….?”
“Stede Bonnet. Please don’t bother with the ‘Mr.’ thing.”
“Right.” Ed grins. “Again, sorry. Very nice of you not to get angry.”
“If you keep apologizing, I will get mad.” Finally, Stede gives a small smile, and Ed is dying to see what his eyes look like.
He gets to do just that once he’s taken Stede to the staff changing rooms where he quickly gets enough tissue paper to stuff a pillow and tries wiping up the spilled coffee from both of them, having thrown away the remainder of his half-emptied cup. He offers Stede a clean t-shirt, but Stede insists it’s fine, he’s wearing an undershirt which only got a little bit of a stain, and if he could just have a bag for his soiled shirt, please. Ed then offers him a blue Ikea vest to cover up the stain, and Stede considers it.
“Alright,” he says, shrugging out of his coat and (finally) taking off his sunglasses, placing both neatly on the wooden Perjohan bench. Ed watches him unbutton his shirt, or, well, tries not to make it obvious that he’s watching him unbutton his shirt. It’s bad enough that he caused this situation to begin with—if he gets caught staring like a creep, embarrassment will be in his near future.
But his eyes.
They’re not at all what Ed expected, though he’s not sure what he expected, exactly. It’s not surprising to see the friendly crinkles at the corners, or the pale lashes, or the mossy hazel of his irises, like the forest floor on an autumn day. What he feels is comfort, followed closely by curiosity, fascination, and then worry, because under his eyes there are dark circles, even worse than the ones Ed used to get after staying out all night to pick up casual flings before he decided he was too old and his hangovers too miserable for that shit and accepted loneliness on Saturday nights instead.
He turns away to change his own shirt, deciding on one of the blue-striped, long-sleeved shirts, only because he feels a little too chilly for a yellow polo and not because it makes his biceps and shoulders look really good, especially when he accidentally grabs a slightly-too-small size.
So, it’s not deliberately planned when he catches Stede’s gaze lingering on him as he hands him the puffy blue vest, but it makes hope flare up gleefully in his gut nonetheless.
“At least let me treat you to a free meal,” Ed says, as Stede regretfully puts his sunglasses back on before slinging his coat over his arm, stained shirt in his hand. “Unless you’re busy.”
“Not busy at all,” Stede says, adjusting the vest and looking almost amused. “No one expects me.”
It sounds kind of odd as he says it, something bleeding through his tone, and it takes Ed a second to realize that it’s dejection. He doesn’t really know what to do with it, though, other than tamping down the strong urge to pry, to solve this riddle in front of him, crack it open and dissect the sadness until he can see what this man looks like happy, because he suspects it’s a brilliant sight.
“Come with me.” He means it.
18:32
The restaurant is nearly empty. Only Frenchie and Wee John, regulars who come here every week (Ed didn’t know it was possible to be a regular at Ikea in that sense before these two started showing up every week), are having their free coffee and being unusually quiet looking out over the snow-covered parking lot as if steeling themselves before braving it.
Ed tells Stede to take whatever he wants and gets the salmon for himself since he already had meatballs for lunch. Roach is in the back cleaning up, though Ed knows he always has an eye on the serving trays.
It’s like being in a reverse freezer, Ed thinks, sitting here in the pleasantly warm dining area while the outside freezes over, like hell will on the day Ed is able to tear his eyes away from Stede for more than five consecutive seconds. He is so striking and makes Ed feel warm all over, would keep him that way even if they were outside in the freezing cold, Ed is sure.
He will have to figure out what to do soon, though, because how the fuck is he going to get home? He can’t even see his car, and the roads look downright dangerous. Maybe a hotel nearby, close enough that he can walk, wrapped up in all the blankets he can find in the store? But no, he can’t think of any hotels within walking distance, and especially not at walking-through-a-snowstorm distance. And he forgot his stupid phone in his stupid office, so he’ll have to go back there before he can look it up, which means saying goodbye to Stede, probably, which is the last thing he wants to do.
Just when he is about to really pull himself together and not get distracted by the way Stede’s throat moves when he swallows his mashed potatoes, and excuse himself to go ask Roach if he’s heard any updates on the radio, Stede breaks the silence.
“Perhaps it was a bad idea to come here today. I don’t know what I was thinking, it was already bad when I left.” He gestures at the window.
“Well, uhm. What are you looking for? I can help you find it, it’ll be faster that way.” Although Ed would rather have him stay as long as possible, he’d still like Stede to think he is excellent at customer service.
Stede offers a small laugh. “What I’m looking for… Uh, everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, but most importantly, a bed. I’ve been sleeping on this lousy couch, which is pretty much the only furniture I’ve got. Well, I say ‘sleeping,’ but really, I haven’t been. Able to sleep, that is.” Stede takes off his sunglasses, rubs his face.
That explains the dark circles under his eyes. Ed is getting more and more intrigued by the second. He wants to thumb gently over those puffy half-moons, the crow’s feet, his temples, soothe him until the tension causing those little lines between his brows goes away.
“I feel like there’s a story,” Ed says, sipping his water. Stede smiles, tired.
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t mind.”
Stede opens his mouth to answer, but just then, Roach calls to Ed from behind the counter.
“Hey, boss. You should see this.”
19:03
“Everyone on the premises is required to come to the restaurant immediately.”
Ed repeats the message over the speaker system a few times, then uses his headset to get in touch with Fang, who is watching the security cameras. Once he is sure everyone is gathered around the tables they’ve pushed together, he tells Fang to join them and turns to the group.
It’s mostly his employees. Izzy, of course, stuck to his side as if on a leash, either constantly grumbling or asking him annoying questions that Ed knows he won’t like the answers to. Lucius, now in a normal, Ikea-blue staff shirt, sitting in the lap of Pete (wearing the Temporary Coworker shirt) despite there being an abundance of chairs around them. Then, there is Roach, of course, and Buttons, and the Swede who usually staffs the customer service desk (for that authentic experience).
The only customers are Stede (who seems to have ditched the sunglasses, which means Ed’s stomach does a somersault whenever he catches his eye, which happens a lot), Wee John and Frenchie, and four others that Ed doesn’t recognize but who seem to be there together.
Once Fang joins them, Ed stands up in front of them all.
“Right. The authorities are now strongly advising that everyone stays indoors until tomorrow, and driving is only permitted for absolute emergencies. Which means…” Ed takes a deep breath, waiting for the worried mumbles to die down. “Which means that we will now be closing the store, and—”
“But there is still an hour until closing time!” Izzy interrupts, and Ed has to use every bit of restraint he has not to roll his eyes. He anticipated this. “You can’t just close the store on a fucking whim—”
“Iz, this is not a ‘whim,’ this is an emergency. Anyway, as I was saying—since traveling home has now become a big fat safety risk, we are offering—and recommending—that all of you stay in the store overnight.”
The murmurs are more excited this time, but again, Izzy breaks in.
“Boss, I must protest, it is absolutely against company policy to let customers or staff—”
Ed catches Stede suppressing a grin, doing a small head-shake, and it gives him the strength he needs to get mildly annoyed instead of massively annoyed. He clears his throat.
“As I was saying, I cannot force anyone to stay, but we have more than enough beds, food and hot drinks for you all to stay here safely until tomorrow morning. So,” he turns to Izzy, “you can leave if you want, but I’ll deal with corporate if they give us shit for this, which I can’t imagine they will, considering the circumstances.”
Not to his surprise, Izzy stays quiet, although he still looks like he swallowed something gross and slimy. Ed knows he wouldn’t miss a chance to stay in the warehouse overnight, no matter how much he barks. If he could live here, he probably would.
After everyone disperses to talk amongst themselves after unanimously taking up the offer to stay, Ed nudges Izzy with his elbow.
“C’mon, Iz, it’ll be great publicity. Lighten up.”
As Roach starts bringing out food, Ed goes around having a short, reassuring word with everyone, and greeting the customers he hasn’t met yet. The four of them turn out to not only be shopping together, but living together. They introduce themselves as Oluwande, Zheng, Jim and Archie, and are looking to buy a new, larger sofa set for their new apartment, since the sofas they each had are quite mismatched, and while Archie thinks it “adds character,” Zheng insists on a more harmonious living space.
Completely coincidentally and not by design at all, Ed’s round ends with Stede, giving him an excuse to sit next to him at the table, as it’s only natural.
“Guess we have all the time in the world for me to help you try out beds, now,” he says quietly, while the rest of the group gets up to fill their plates. Only when the words have left his lips does he realize how that must have sounded. “I mean, not in that way, didn’t mean it to sound like—just, in a proper and professional way,” he ends a bit weakly, afraid he blew it already until Stede smiles. From this side, Ed notices the line of a dimple, and aches to know how deep it goes when Stede really, really laughs.
“To be honest, some help may be exactly what I need.” He casts a glance at Ed, a glimmer in his eye. “It’s not so much the bed itself—I used to be able to sleep on the ground if necessary—it’s more… the loneliness, I think.” He swallows, looks at his hands. “But yes, proper and professional, of course.”
Ed cocks his head and leans in slightly. “Seems to me like I still need to hear that story. Doesn’t matter how long, we have all night.”
And that’s how Ed gets him started, launching into a tale about a mid-life crisis involving a spontaneous cruise to Florida, leaving his wife and kids with just a note (Stede admits this was a dick move), and coming back to discover they’d barely missed him at all. With the revelations he’d had regarding his sexuality along the way, they ended up deciding that an amicable divorce was for the best (mostly because Stede had given his wife everything, still feeling bad for walking out with no warning like that).
While Stede relays all this to him, they get a pastry and a cup of tea each for dessert, as they already had dinner. Wee John and Frenchie help Pete get the TV from the break room (Lucius is “supervising,” which apparently means that he stands around watching while the others do all the work), and the Swede and Buttons wander off to find whatever cards and board games they have in the store. By the time they’ve all finished eating and rearranging the restaurant, it is actually shaping up to be quite a cozy evening.
“So now, all I’ve got is a shitty flat with that single, lousy couch, an angry father threatening to disinherit me, an indifferent ex-wife, two messed-up kids, probably, and an insomnia problem, and it’s entirely my own fault.” Stede rests his chin in his hand, looking out the window even though there is nothing to see except blurry streetlights, like lonely lighthouses along the shore.
Ed isn’t sure what to say. They only just met—it may be too soon to say something like, “Hey, sounds like you’re punishing yourself needlessly here, mate,” because Ed knows all about punishing himself for his past. Instead, he settles for, “Sounds like the marriage was pretty dead already, mate. Probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway, with you being gay and all.”
When Stede had said that part, how he’d realized he was into men while on his cruise (though he didn’t elaborate on whether a specific event had caused the revelation), he had given Ed a quick, shy look that made his heart leap, so he kinda wants to bring that back up.
“I suppose so.” Stede sighs. “Just wish I could sleep.”
“Hey, I’m not gonna do the whole, ‘have you tried this and that?’ thing, ‘cause I’m sure you’ve heard it all already, but what I am gonna do is help you have a nice, comfortable night, sleep or not. Starting with hot chocolate.”
20:28
They decide to bring hot chocolate from the bistro for everyone, along with all the cinnamon rolls they can scrounge up, filling most of a shopping cart.
As they walk through the warehouse, Stede says it feels like when the librarian would have mercy on him and let him stay alone in the school library when he technically should have been in the after-school care where all his bullies were waiting for him. Sometimes, he’d get so caught up in reading that he wouldn’t notice how much time had passed until it was suddenly getting dark outside, and the janitor came around to check that all the doors were locked. Even then, he hadn’t been missed, not by his classmates and not at home. It was more likely he’d need to ask an adult to call his parents to remind them to pick him up than he’d be scolded for not being in the after-school centre when their maid came to get him.
This story makes Ed so tremendously sad that he aches to give Stede a hug and would’ve done so if not for the elevator arriving right then. Stede just pushes their cart forward, carrying on like he didn’t just make Ed’s heart break for little Stede.
No, he continues talking about it as if it’s a good memory, how exciting it felt to be there all alone, spellbound by all his favorite books without being disturbed, like he was special, somehow.
“Feeling kinda special now, too.” He blushes as he says this, eyeing Ed like it’s some kind of treat being allowed behind the counter and through all the Staff Only doors.
“If you wanted, I could show you all of Ikea’s secrets,” Ed whispers conspiratorially, once they’re back upstairs and Ed has won two games of Go Fish with Stede, Pete, and Lucius.
“Really?” Stede keeps his voice to a whisper too. He has perked up a bit, which is technically the opposite of what he was supposed to do, since the goal was to make him sleepy, but Ed isn’t complaining. There is more light in his eyes, more animation in his features. “I’d love that.”
Ed looks around. No distress, just laughter, calmness, acceptance. It seems everyone has notified who they need to notify, and no one seems worried about the situation. It’s getting a little boring, actually, though not unpleasantly so. Even though Ed went by his office to pick up his phone on the way to get hot chocolate at the bistro, he doesn’t have anyone in his life he needs to tell about his whereabouts. He and Stede have that in common, it seems.
Lucius has been in contact with a reporter wanting to do a short TV segment on their situation, which does not come as a surprise to Ed, but he’s currently much more interested in spending time with Stede than giving out interviews. However, since it is his store, he asks Lucius to keep him updated, then pulls Izzy aside to tell him he’s in charge until Ed comes back.
“Are you sure about this, boss?” Izzy asks, casting a disproportionally disgusted look at Stede, who is out of earshot, making a cup of tea to bring along. “We know nothing about him. Could be a spy from a rival, sent here to uncover our business secrets.”
Ed barks out a laugh. “Psh, what rivals? What business secrets? All our shit is on the website anyway. Get off it, Iz, we’re just passing the time. Just make sure everyone stays comfortable until I’m back.”
Izzy grumbles something under his breath, but Ed can’t be bothered, not when Stede is standing there with that half-questioning, half-excited look in his eyes, waiting for him.
20:51
After taking some shortcuts that Stede acts as if are much more interesting than they really are, they end up in the self-serve area. With a big, vacant hall, there is obviously only one thing to do: race each other down the middle between the ceiling-high shelves on flatbed shopping trolleys.
20:53
After Stede nearly crashes into Ed, who narrowly avoids a display of Salnö chairs, they decide that putting the trolleys back is for the best.
21:11
Ed has never actually done this before, but once Stede asks what the view from the top of the shelves is like, he can’t not find out. So, they find a small section without boxes at the very top, get a ladder, and climb up.
While Stede sits with his legs dangling over the edge, Ed prefers to sit cross-legged a bit further in. Not because he’s afraid of heights—he’s not, okay!—but because it gives him the better view (the one with Stede in it).
For a while, they sit in silence. The only windows are in the ceiling, and it’s dark out, but the snow can be felt, somehow, the way it covers them all like a heavy blanket.
As he watches Stede looking over the rows and rows of tall shelves, Ed marvels quietly at how this day has turned out. While unprecedented, getting snowed in at the store has been less of a surprise than Stede.
The quiet is broken by Ed’s phone—a text from Lucius saying they’ve “taken care” of the TV segment, which sounds like something Ed should be at least a little bit worried about, but he can’t bring himself to care very much when his fingertips are so close to Stede’s that he can feel the heat radiating off them.
If only he were a little braver, a little more secure in his suspicion that Stede might like him back, even if it’s not with the same intensity as the crush that has bloomed in him, immediate and devastating, he might have reached out and taken Stede’s hand.
But just when he is the most tempted to say fuck it and do it, Stede yawns, moving his hand away to cover his mouth.
“Sorry, I’m just so-o-o—” he yawns again— “tired. Fuck. Really wish I could sleep.”
“I did promise to help you find a bed.”
21:50
“Looks like you get first pick!” Ed spreads his arms like a ringmaster in a circus, presenting beds instead of horses and clowns. The section is empty except for them, even though Ed has instructed Izzy to bring everyone here before 10.
“I don’t know… There are so many choices.” Stede looks lost, standing between a bed with a metal frame and one with drawers underneath. “Maybe the extra storage space wouldn’t be too bad. My new bachelor pad barely has space for my clothes.”
Ed wants to follow up on that, because his clothes fit in a Visthus closet and he can’t imagine having more than that, definitely not enough to make it barely fit in even a small apartment, but in that moment, they hear voices.
“Line up in a single file, everyone. Spread out, one bed per person, no two occupied beds next to each other, do not—” Izzy’s hoarse voice gets drowned out and completely ignored by the happily chatting group, led by Roach pushing a cart full of assorted sets of bedsheets. Not paying Izzy’s instructions any mind at all, they start inspecting the beds and choosing where they want to sleep.
“If you do wanna pick first, you should hurry,” Ed says to Stede, who hesitates.
“Where are you sleeping?”
“Uhm. Just, wherever’s free when everyone else has chosen.” Ed hadn’t really thought about it, but this sounds reasonable, seeing as he’s the boss, and in some way, they’re all his guests.
Stede nods resolutely. “I’ll do that too, then.”
Ed has a burning need to know whether Stede consciously phrased it like that, like it could mean that he’s planning on sleeping in the same bed as Ed, but unfortunately, he has to go help out Izzy not burst a vein trying to keep Oluwande, Zheng, Jim and Archie from pushing two large beds together, and also, he’s afraid of blurting out something embarrassing to Stede, like “Please sleep with me?”
It takes a good while to get everyone tucked in, and even longer to convince Izzy that he has to choose a bed too and not go sleep in his office. In the end, he settles on a sofa bed as far away from everyone else as possible, and that’s probably the best Ed could’ve hoped for.
“And what about you? And your new…” Izzy scowls at Stede, who is looking through some of the decorative books on the nightstand in one of the bedroom displays. “…friend.”
“Let me worry about that,” Ed says, kind of longing to be alone with Stede again. Maybe he can convince him to go get more hot chocolate once the others are asleep.
Ed walks around taking count, making sure everyone is settled in. Lucius and Pete are sharing a bed, and he probably should split them up, but he knows it’s a fight he’s gonna lose, and there are really no guidelines for this sort of situation anyway. While Frenchie and Wee John have chosen a twin bed each, Roach is starfishing on their biggest mattress, and Buttons has taken the upper bunk above the Swede, who is spooning a Blåhaj.
Ed doesn’t even notice Stede catching up to him before he taps his shoulder.
“Hey, I found a copy of Andersen’s Fairy Tales, how about a bedtime story for everyone?”
Stede sits atop of a sturdy set of display shelves near the middle of the room while reading The Ugly Duckling out loud. Ed sits on a pouf below, leaning against the shelves. He can’t dim the lights, so they’ve been turned off completely except for an LED lantern propped up on a couple of boxes next to Stede. It casts a warm light and cuts deep shadows across Stede’s face when he leans in to squint at the words on the page.
Ed barely takes in the meaning of those words, just the ebb and flow of his voice, the cadence, the lilt, the highs and lows when he does the voices of the characters. It’s nostalgic, so much it has him on the verge of tearing up, although he’s unsure why. He’s never met Stede before tonight, after all, but as he listens, it’s like Ed is sitting next to him in that dark school library, hiding from a world that wants to hurt them.
Deeply enchanted, it takes him a moment to realize when Stede has finished reading, looking at him expectantly. Someone—Ed thinks it might be Wee John—asks for another fairy tale, and sleepy whispers break out across the room.
“No more for now, I’m afraid,” Stede says, to general disappointment from the room. Somewhere, Roach is already snoring.
“Goodnight, everyone.” Ed stands up and takes the lantern. Stede hops down from the shelf. “Sleep tight.”
22:33
Even with fewer options to choose from, Stede says it’s too difficult, and it ends up being easy for Ed to convince him to go back to the bistro for more hot chocolate. As they have already wandered through most of the warehouse several times by now, back and forth, they take turns sitting on a trolley while the other one pushes.
The echo of Ed’s steps is nearly drowned out by the sound of the trolley wheels as he pushes Stede along—he really should get someone to clean and oil these soon, maybe Pete, maybe on Monday—but otherwise, they stay silent until they’ve reached their destination and Ed is wrangling K4-RL into pouring them two cups of chocolate.
“It’s not just the beds,” Stede says suddenly, and Ed looks at him, raising his eyebrows in question. “I mean—choosing. It’s not just that I don’t know which bed to choose, but that I don’t know what to do.”
Ed gestures at one of the small tables, and they sit down across from each other. “Go on.”
“It’s like—I’ve never really had this kind of choice before. Everything was laid out for me—college, career, wife and kids. I never had to choose, you know? Except I chose to follow along and just let life sort of… happen to me, because it was easier than going against what everyone expected of me. And then I cracked. And now I’m here, washed up on the rocks, with no idea where to go from here.”
Ed knows the feeling. While he did have to make his own way in life, he’s been stuck in the same spot for years. Holiday sales turning into post-holiday sales turning into another 11 months of selling mass-produced furniture. The one thing he used to have fun with was interior design, arranging displays, seeing new possibilities in the furniture pieces themselves, but by now, the few fun things that aren’t decided by headquarters, he doesn’t have time for.
“The way I see it, this is your chance to find out what you want to do,” Ed says, kind of wishing he had such a chance.
“I never thought much about it. I like reading, I like clothes. I like men,” he sends Ed a short glance, loaded in a way that makes his breath hitch, “which I wish I’d realized sooner, and I definitely like not having to answer to my father anymore. But I suppose there aren’t many jobs where I can get paid to sit around reading while wearing nice clothes.”
Ed huffs out a small laugh. He feels like he’s been faced with a half-solved Sudoku, unsure whether the remaining numbers are his or Stede’s. Doesn’t matter, as they’re all hidden. “Man, wouldn’t that be nice.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“What would you do?”
“Uh, dunno.” Ed shrugs, although as soon as he starts thinking about it, long-buried ideas start popping back up. “When I was younger, I wanted to be a carpenter, then an architect, then an interior designer, and that was sort of how I ended up here. So, I’d like to do something like that, I guess—make my own furniture.” The idea seems so obvious once he says it that he’s surprised he never realized it before.
“Why don’t you?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“If I can blow my whole life up, so can you!”
“And do you recommend it?”
Stede considers it for a moment. “Honestly, if I weren’t paralyzed by indecision and unable to sleep, I might say yes. It’s better than being stuck forever, right?”
Ed nods at his cup, holding it in both hands. “Can’t argue with that.”
Stede sets his cup down on the table with a hollow sound. “Perhaps we could just stay here all night. Assuming you’re offering hot chocolate ad libitum.”
“I’ve got a better idea.”
23:22
The blanket fort is magnificent.
They’ve stolen pillows, blankets and cushions from all over the store, along with a mountain of plushies. Ed made the executive decision to write off several packs of stringed fairy lights and batteries, and now, their little corner display in the living room exhibition is about the coziest Ed has ever seen.
The shopping carts they used to raid the other sections for anything soft stand abandoned outside the blue cushion that constitutes a door to the fort, like two trusty steeds outside a saloon in an old western movie, except they’re drinking tea instead of whiskey.
The ‘roof’ barely allows them to sit up, so they’re reclined next to each other on a pile of pillows, with Stede hugging a stuffed Snuttig polar bear to his chest. They have both changed into clean t-shirts from the employee wardrobe, and Ed asked five times if it was okay for him to take his pants off before doing so, after which Stede did the same, and although both of them are covered up by blankets now, Ed can’t erase the image of Stede’s legs from his mind. For some divine reason, that man has the most shapely, beautiful legs Ed has ever seen in his whole entire life, and it shook him to the point where he’s still speechless.
Stede is less so, talking in a low, soft voice about the queer subtext of The Ugly Duckling, and Ed feels like he should’ve made more of an effort to listen to the fairy tale and not just Stede’s voice when he read it. He’s in danger of falling into the same trap again though, and on top of that, he is getting sleepy, so once he’s finished his tea, he starts taking his long hair out of his updo and braiding it to stay focused.
Once Stede seems to have run out of words, he chews on his lip and stares at the fairy lights. Ed rolls over onto his side. Stede turns his head to face him. Waiting.
“You know,” Ed begins, his voice rough, “I think you’re right. The bed itself doesn’t matter. What you need is company.”
Stede blinks. “Well. I have that now.”
“Mhmm, a nice plushie to cuddle with.” Ed nods at the Snuttig in Stede’s arms. Stede taps his shoulder with its snout.
“I meant you, Ed.”
“Yet you’re cuddling him and not me.”
Stede does an exasperated but very pleased sigh. “Alright, then.”
He pushes the polar bear aside and rolls over to hug Ed’s middle under the blankets, resting his head on Ed’s shoulder. Ed puts his arms around him, the solid heat of his body, comforting and perfect. The butterflies in his stomach are going wild, fluttering out to every point of contact between them.
“Think you can fall asleep like this?” Ed asks, voice barely above a whisper. Stede lifts his head, eyelids heavy, the shadows on his face even heavier.
“Hmm. Something’s missing.”
“What?”
Stede looks into his eyes for a long moment. Then he drops his cheek to Ed’s shoulder again, closing his eyes. “I don’t know. Never mind.”
Ed does mind if there is something missing, something he could provide, and he has a feeling Stede was just about to say what it was, but he must have had a reason not to. Instead, Ed starts scratching lightly at his scalp, drawing random patterns and occasionally massaging at the edges of his skull.
Stede hums with contentment and lets out a sleepy little sigh. Ed reaches up to turn off the fairy lights, then returns to petting Stede’s hair. It’s soft, slipping easily between his fingers, smelling a bit like bubblegum. Ed is tempted to press his face into it like he’d do to a cat’s exposed belly fur despite the very high risk of it being a trap. This doesn’t feel like a trap, though, not with the way Stede settles in along his side and hugs him closer, but still, Ed needs to make sure.
“I think I really like you,” he whispers into the darkness, hoping Stede won’t hear the tremble in his voice, jittery with nerves.
But when Stede lets out a small huff, Ed can hear that he’s smiling.
“In a proper and professional way?”
Ed shakes his head. “In a decidedly improper and unprofessional way.”
A beat.
“I really like you too.”
Ed draws a deep sigh, relief washing over him. He wastes no time nuzzling his nose into Stede’s curls, and yep, definitely bubblegum. He closes his eyes, tightening his arms around him. Not a trap.
“So, what’s missing?” he mumbles, sure that Stede can hear his heartbeat speed up.
Stede hesitates for another second, then says, “I was thinking… a goodnight kiss.”
Now Stede definitely must be able to hear it, Ed’s heart hammering in his ribcage. “Where?” he asks.
“You decide.”
Ed starts slow, gently cupping Stede’s cheek to tip his head up, presses his lips softly to his forehead. Drags them across warm, soft skin, placing kisses along the way. Thumbs gently over those puffy half-moons under his eyes, over his crow’s feet, his temples, following every touch up with kisses, soothing every bit of tension until those little lines between his brows fade away.
Finally, he makes it to Stede’s lips, kissing him long and certain until Stede melts the rest of the way into him, making a happy, content little sound.
“Anything else missing?” Ed mumbles against his lips, rubbing circles over his back.
“Mmyeah, a little more of that, please, if you’re offering.”
Ed definitely is, so he kisses him again, and again, and again, indulgent and unhurried and just so unbelievably fucking right, like all of Ed’s life has been leading up to this very moment.
They only stop kissing when the night finally wins out, when Stede draws away to press his cheek to Ed’s heartbeat and whisper Goodnight, then falls asleep.
7:30
CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG
“Good morning! Good morning! Everybody up!”
Ed nearly crashes his head into Stede’s as they both sit up abruptly, confused and disoriented. Roach’s sing-song voice reaches them from just outside the blanket fort, along with the loud, obnoxious sound of pot-lids being banged together.
“Found ya!” The blue door-cushion is pushed aside and Roach’s grinning face comes into view. “Well, well, well, doesn’t this look cozy.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Ed says, voice sleep-hoarse as he squints in the brutally intruding light, but glad it’s Roach finding them like this and not anyone else.
“And good morning to you, too.” Roach only sounds a tiny bit affronted. “Breakfast in ten, don’t be late!”
He smashes the pot-lids together with a loud CLANG one more time, making both of them jump, before walking away without shutting the cushion-door behind him.
Ed groans, brushing loose strands of hair out of his face. Stede has let himself fall into the pile of cushions again, hands over his face. Ed takes him in for a little while before poking his midriff where his shirt rides up, making him sit up with a start as if he’d already drifted off to sleep again. He rolls his shoulders, stretches his arms, and yawns.
“Hey, Stede?”
“Ye-eah-h?” The word is interrupted by another yawn, and ends with Stede blinking at him, a small, sweet smile on his face.
“Since I gave you a goodnight kiss, do I get a good morning kiss?”
Stede beams. “As many as you want.” But right as he is about to lean in, he pauses. “Although—uh, morning breath.”
“Just a quick one, then, if I can save the rest for later.”
Stede pecks him on the cheek. “Sure, but be careful, the interest rate is pretty high.”
Ed snorts. “Sounds like the opposite of a problem.”
Stede smiles wide and bright, happy, brilliant, his dimple more prominent than ever.
8:09
It’s hard to act like his life hasn’t just been turned upside down, sitting next to Stede while they all eat breakfast around the same, long table they were playing cards at yesterday, laughing and chatting about the snow and how they’re going to get home. Luckily, most of them are too occupied with their own overnight Ikea adventure to pay Ed much mind, not until he announces that the store will stay closed today.
Only Izzy bristles at this announcement, but Ed tells him he is welcome to stay and clean and tidy up if he wants, knowing that is the kind of work Izzy finds to be the most beneath him and always delegates. In any case, Ed will see him on Monday morning. As expected, Izzy huffs and puffs but drops the subject.
At one point, Lucius has a video call with the reporter from yesterday and makes all of them wave to the camera. Ed lets him handle it. He has more important things to see to. Like nudging Stede’s foot under the table and catching his bright, surprised smile.
Unfortunately, once they finish breakfast, there are some much more boring things Ed does need to take care of. He needs to make sure everyone leaves with everything they came for plus their (now) free set of bedsheets, coordinate helping both customers and employees dig out and load their cars, and write some tedious e-mails, signs and posts about the store being closed, along with a bunch of notes about stuff he will have to deal with on Monday.
When all of that is done and the parking lot is mostly empty, he goes to check on Roach in the kitchen, expecting Stede to still be waiting there as he had promised before Ed went to his office.
But he is nowhere to be found, and Roach just shrugs and says he went in the direction of the stairs, which makes Ed run to the windows to check the parking lot for Stede’s car, panicking for a moment when he can’t immediately see it, because it’s still covered in all that stupid snow.
Wait, Stede had come to buy a bed, and he’ll still be needing one, right? That makes sense, just like Frenchie and Wee John had still bought that Åskmuller lamp on their way out and Zheng had put in an order for two sofas and an armchair.
So, taking a deep, steadying breath, Ed strides off to the bedroom section, calling for Stede in a very casual and not at all worried way.
He even keeps it totally cool when Stede isn’t anywhere near the beds, because Stede said he liked him, and he kissed him, and that’s when he thinks to check the blanket fort.
And there Stede is, curled up around the big Djungelskog bear Ed had used as a pillow and snoring softly.
“Hey.” Ed gives his arm a squeeze, and Stede wakes with a small start, blinking Ed into focus. “Seems like sleeping is no longer a problem, huh?”
“I can’t go home, Ed. Just leave me here, I feel like I could sleep for a week now I‘ve gotten started.”
“Afraid I can’t do that, mate. I’ve pretty much finished up, how about we find you that bed?”
Stede rolls onto his back with a whine. “I can’t, there are too many steps. Choosing, buying, transporting, carrying up the stairs, assembling… I just wanna sleep.”
Ed is about to say something, probably something reasonable, when Stede adds, “And kiss you.”
Well.
“You do owe me some kisses.”
“Get in here, then.” It is overwhelmingly tempting to climb in next to Stede where he is patting the plush belly of the teddy bear invitingly. On the other hand, he needs to get out of this fucking building, preferably forever (though unfortunately that’s not possible), and that wins out in the end.
Especially because he has a brilliant idea for a solution that lets Stede both sleep and kiss him.
Later
Stede never buys a bed. Instead, he goes home with Ed and spends the rest of the day in his bed, then stays the night (doing more bed stuff than just sleeping, though), followed by every night after that.
When he officially moves in, Stede helps Ed design and build a wardrobe system to store all of his clothes, and they both finally figure out what they want to do. Ed quits his job, and in December, they celebrate the opening of Blackbeard’s Wardrobes & Storage & Walk-In Closets: Handmade Custom Interior Solutions.
All their Ikea sleepover buddies are invited as VIP guests, and as they are popping the champagne, it starts to snow.