Chapter Text
In hindsight, Stede Bonnet has absolutely zero idea what he was thinking. Who shows up alone to something like this? And of course everyone here is approximately five million years old.
It doesn’t help that this isn’t the main campus, and he always gets tremendously turned around every time he comes here. The circular drive that dumps you out again unceremoniously if you miss your turn is, in a word, nightmarish.
But on the second try—after waiting impatiently at a red light, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel—Stede found his way to the proper parking lot.
He scrambled out of his car and hustled into the building late, huffing and puffing, only to hear the wonderful live big band music at the same time he saw the crowd and realized how utterly foolish this impulsive plan had been.
Here he is, all by his lonesome, as usual. Everyone is already paired up. What would he even do, aside from stand or sit around the entire time feeling exposed and self-conscious, marinating in the loneliness that is apparently his destiny?
Instantly he’s an awkward, gangly teen again, flayed raw, every sneering glance and mocking word cutting him to the quick. His eyes sting with the tears that want to come, and he hates himself for it. Hates himself for caring what other people think.
For being unable to convince anyone that they want to be with—and stay with—him.
That’s it. He has to get out of here as quickly as humanly possible.
Stede abruptly turns on his heel, takes two hasty steps—
—and crashes full bore into another human being.
“Ahh!” Stede yelps. He was hunched over and looking down as he turned around, so his face came into direct contact with the person’s shoulder. His glasses got shoved back into his face; it hurt like hell.
But—also—the person he slammed into has reflexively wrapped an arm around him to keep him from toppling over from the force of the impact.
It feels so good, and warm, and stabilizing, and not merely physically.
Among the five hundred thoughts in Stede’s brain, along with utter shock and, a split second later, massive embarrassment, is a realization that this is the first hug he’s received from anyone other than his children in months. And it’s not even intentional.
“Whoa, mate,” a mellow baritone says. “Steady as she goes.”
Stede steps back quickly, gradually gets his bearings, and gets a good look at the person he’s just collided with. Oh shit. He’s handsome. Like, movie-star handsome.
An impeccable jawline, with a bit of stubble sprinkled along it. He’s a little bit taller, so Stede has to look up slightly to meet his eyes, which makes his stomach swoop for some reason. The most tempting salt-and-pepper curls topple down from the crown of his head.
And—good freaking lord—those eyes. Stede’s never seen anything like them. A lovely medium brown that catches the light, fringed by gorgeous long eyelashes. Stede has never seen such beautiful eyes on anyone of any gender.
Can I spend the rest of my life looking into those eyes, please and thank you? he thinks. Pretty sure that would solve all of my problems.
“I am so sorry,” Stede stammers out. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Clearly.”
It’s difficult to tear his eyes away from the stranger’s big brown ones, but Stede manages to at last. He quickly glances down, taking in the rest of the man he’s speaking to.
He’s dressed fairly casually in khakis and a light, fuzzy jumper in a lovely shade of lilac that looks very touchable.
He’s holding a paper coffee cup in his hand, which he managed not to spill despite their recent collision.
“Where were you going, in such a hurry?” Handsome Soft Jumper Man inquires. “Someone after you? Wanting a grade change or something?”
Stede blushes. He doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that his interlocutor has clocked him as a professor.
“Err. Um.” Stede hesitates. “I was coming from faculty dance club. But I…didn’t go in.”
The man he’s talking to tilts his head. “Yeah? Why not?” He’s eyeing Stede intensely, as if he’s terribly intrigued by this mystery. Why he would care, Stede can’t possibly imagine.
“Well…” Stede’s not doing it consciously, but he’s standing with his hands in little fists at his sides, trying to survive this awkward social situation that he can’t seem to help making even more awkward with every passing second.
“I don’t have a partner, and everyone else in there does,” he confesses. “I don’t know what possessed me to come here alone.” Stede can’t help but accompany this with a heavy sigh. “It was a stupid idea. I only have stupid ideas.”
But Handsome Soft Jumper Man shakes his head. “Not stupid. It’s…hopeful?”
Stede smiles wryly. The other man is being very kind, but everything about this situation is making Stede want to curl up into a ball and give up on life.
He can’t even stand to make eye contact anymore, so he lets his eyes drift down to the V of the other man’s lilac jumper.
Stede can just make out a tattoo of some sort beneath his throat, in and amongst some silvery chest hair. Noticing it makes the situation worse rather than better.
He’d really like to nuzzle in there, if he could. Learn what the whole tattoo looks like. Let his lips ghost over the man’s Adam’s apple, and—
Stede draws in a sharp breath. What is he even doing?
He currently can’t seem to hold up his end of the conversation, let alone do the sort of flirting necessary to have the remotest chance of making his fantasies a reality.
I’m so cooked, he thinks, channeling his thirteen-year-old daughter.
Well, he has to say something. He risks meeting the other man’s eyes again; he’s smiling gently, but it’s empathetic, not pitying. “That’s a nice way of framing it,” Stede says finally, “but I’m afraid I’m rather hopeless.”
“Aw, I don’t believe it,” the handsome stranger declares, before he leans in, whispering conspiratorially: “Hey. You wanna do something weird?”
As down on himself as he’s been feeling, Stede can’t help but light up at that. “Yeah!” he responds, with enthusiasm. He doesn’t even care what it is. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll go in there and dance with you. If you want. Even though”—the other man hesitates just the slightest bit—”you were probably looking for a woman to dance with.”
Stede’s eyes fly open; in no way, shape, or form was he expecting such an offer.
Is he dreaming? Did he fall and hit his head when they collided, and this is his hallucination?
Regardless, what the other man just said couldn’t be further from the truth. “No!” Stede replies, quickly and sharply.
Handsome Soft Jumper Man looks massively taken aback; it’s only then Stede realizes how his response came across. “I mean no, I wasn’t hoping to dance with a woman at all. Which is just one of the bajillion reasons this was stupid of me. I honestly did not think one single piece of this through.”
Stede takes a deep breath. I want a man in my arms. You, specifically. He wishes he were someone who could pull off saying that, but that’s like wishing he was a swashbuckler from the Golden Age of Piracy. A flat impossibility.
“I would love to dance with you,” is what he eventually lands on. Truthful and to the point, with a bit of extra emphasis to offset his earlier misstep.
“Good.” The other man smiles; there’s such an appealing and mysterious something in his expression. “Happy to do it. Hell, I’ll even pretend to be your boyfriend. Not just some rando you tried to bulldoze in the hallway.” He winks, and it’s so charming; Stede can’t help but break into an enthusiastic grin, even as his stunned mind is struggling to catch up.
Not only is this massively attractive man willing to dance with him, but he’s doing everything he can to make him feel comfortable. Who does that? No one, in Stede’s experience.
And somehow, he’s managed to put his finger on exactly what Stede has craved but never had.
The feeling of belonging with…someone. In a community. In a family. Anywhere. Not sticking out like a lonely, sore thumb as always.
Everything within Stede is saying shut up, don’t say too much, don’t ruin this, but he remembers his manners: “Are you sure I wouldn’t be keeping you from something?” he asks anxiously.
“Nah,” the other man replies with a grin. “Not in a rush to get back to what I was doing.” He shifts his paper cup from his right hand to his left and sticks out his hand: “I’m Ed.”
Stede takes it; what a friendly, reassuring grip he has. “Stede,” he says, accentuating the consonant that trips people up. “Not Steve.”
Ed grins even more broadly as he shakes Stede’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Boyfriend Not-Steve.” Good god, if Ed had any idea how he was destroying Stede more with every passing moment. “By the way, it’s your lucky day,” he continues. Ed, you have no idea, Stede muses.
“Happen to know a few of these types of dances. Had an ill-fated situationship some years back that involved dance lessons.”
“Oh!” Stede exclaims. “That’s good! Or, I mean”—Stede realizes Ed just called it “ill-fated”—“I’m sorry?”
“Nah. S’fine.” Ed shrugs. “Was good I never married her. Was a close call.”
Ah, Stede thinks to himself. Got it. The tiniest wild hope that had sprouted in his mind quickly withered. “Wish I could say the same,” Stede says, with a rueful smile. “Though my children are worth it.”
“Life’s complicated, no?” Ed gives Stede a few firm pats on the shoulder. “Here, let me get rid of this and we can go in.” He chugs from his paper cup before tossing it in a nearby trash can. “Shall we?”