Work Text:
Stede was having a Very Bad anniversary.
Granted, when she gave him an odd abstract painting he’d tried! He’d called it “compelling” and said he liked the colors. Mary had yanked it out of his hands and turned it around, announcing he’d been holding it upside down.
When she opened her gift her face turned into a thundercloud. “Sports tickets.” It wasn’t even a question, a flat declaration.
“W-well yes. It’s the All Blacks and the Wallabies.” He gestured between them. “I thought it might be fun?”
The truth was, he’d seen a clip of a couple at some event, one decked out in purple and the other in green, apparently fans of rival franchises, but united on the kiss cam. He’d gotten a bit nostalgic for it, thinking about trying to bridge differences with affection. And while he might admit in the dark of night that sex with Mary was perfunctory at best, he did want to give her romance!
“Stede. I fucking hate rugby. I’ve fucking told you that!”
He deflated. “W-when?”
“When you were talking about fucking rugby! ” Her anger crushed what was left of Stede’s resolve and he slumped down into the chair. How did he get this so wrong? They’d been together twelve years and yet he didn’t even realize she painted until today. Mary slid into the other chair with a heavy sigh. “We just can’t seem to stop hurting each other.”
“I’m sorry,” Stede muttered. He could go out now and get her art supplies or something? He had no idea what she used but surely…
“Stede,” Mary’s voice was tired. “I think it’s time we stopped pretending.”
He looked up at her in shock. “Pretending?”
“You and I both know we were never exactly in love.” That was true. Stede’s father had set him up on a date with a business partner’s daughter for prom and then the dates just continued until his mother handed him a ring and told him it was time. It wasn’t exactly a passionate love match, but a business deal of a kind. Hell, they couldn’t manage to find the interest in each other sexually enough to produce the desired heir, much to their families annoyance.
Stede was still deep in his thoughts, wondering if there was a point he could have saved this, when Mary continued, “I’ve known since I was seven that I like girls. I know that’s why my parents’ forced us together, like shoving their gay kids in a room and hoping they decide to be beards for each other. But I don’t want to deny it anymore and I’m tired of being in a marriage that nobody wanted.”
She might have continued but Stede was so shocked that he didn’t process anything. “You…think I’m…you think we’re both…gay?” he almost whispered.
Mary stopped, looking at him in surprise. “Stede, I know you’re a little self absorbed but you had to have noticed--”
“No you think I’m…” he couldn’t even finish it, some sort of terror closing his throat.
Mary’s face scrunched and then her jaw fell. “Oh. Oh no. Oh Stede, I'm so sorry. I thought you… I thought we both were just…not saying anything about it. I didn’t mean to--that is, it’s up to you, you get to decide who you’re into and…oh fuck I fucked this up.”
“Mary. Why…would you think…is it just the clothing?” He’d certainly borne a great deal of mockery, especially as a child, for liking to be dressed well.
Mary shrugged, not looking at him. “A bit. But like…we’d be in the grocery store and a cute guy walked by and you’d stare. You never know female actresses names but you remember all the men. When we went to that beach, you literally stopped in your tracks after that shirtless lifeguard went by.” She huffed a bitter, unamused laugh. “There’s twelve years of examples.”
Stede felt sick, numb, shocked. He remembered those moments. The times he’d look over an attractive man and tell himself it was just because he was comparing himself or just because he was a ‘lover of beauty.’ But he never looked at women like that. Suddenly, his father’s insistence, basically throwing Mary at him, made much more sense. “Mary…am I…gay?”
“I can’t answer that for you. You’re the only one who can say what your sexual attraction looks like. But…this,” she waved her hand in the space between them, “this isn’t doing it for either of us. And we both deserve to be happy.”
That had been the catalyst. Things got complicated from there, as they began navigating even the most polite, nearly friendly divorce. Stede had spent a long night tossing and turning and taking every quiz Buzzfeed--and whatever contemporaries he could find--offered on sexuality. The results pointed to “homosexual with latent heterosexual tendencies” and he felt odd. Wasn’t he supposed to know? So he swore off the quizzes and went to his assistant and friend, Lucius, who spent a long afternoon in a closed door meeting with Stede explaining the numerous flavors of ‘queer.’ Stede had wondered about the asexual spectrum--perhaps he simply wasn’t attracted to anyone!
Except one night, fortified by brandy, Stede had turned to gay porn. That experiment didn’t have to last long to be quite definitive. The most supple, ample female form gave him little enjoyment, but the strong arms of a ‘bear,’ the smirk of a bearded ‘leather daddy,’ the firm line of an erection…well, those certainly got a strong response.
So he’d thrown himself into learning more in the last couple months. He left the accounting firm he’d taken over after his father’s death and taken his fortune to open a queer cafe space. A lighthouse for people who felt as lost as he had.
When his calendar reminder alerted him that the All Blacks v Wallabies game was in a month (the reminder literally was for tailoring any fanwear, and Stede had laughed at it, wondering how he’d ever thought he was straight) Stede wasn’t sure what to do with the ticket. Lucius, who had left with Stede and now used his skills to organize the cafe’s ordering and programming, turned his nose up at it. “Ew, sportyball. Not really my vibe.”
“Sweaty, hot, muscular men in tight uniforms? That’s not your vibe?” Stede had teased.
Lucius hmmed a moment and then shook his head. “No, I got my ass kicked by enough jocks who then wanted me to suck their cocks behind the bleachers.”
“What am I going to do with it?” Stede sighed. After coming out, he’d discovered how small his friendship pool really was. Lu, and his partner Pete (who wouldn’t go without Lucius), Roach was lovely but he’d already requested that day off, for his mum’s birthday. Frenchie had a gig that night and his roommate ‘Wee’ John, who taught the fiber arts class, had a bad back and wouldn’t touch stadium seating. If Stede stretched his definition of ‘friend’ he might include a few lads from his college days, but honestly he didn’t know them and they’d never known him. Hell, he hadn’t known himself at that age!
“Why don’t you donate it?” Frenchie suggested. “You’re doing the raffle thing, right? Gotta be more rugby fans out and about.”
Oh! He hadn’t thought of that! Stede had already arranged several raffle items, spa baskets and date night styled bundles and the like. Adding one more wasn’t difficult.
It wasn’t until after he’d done so that he realized the inherent awkwardness of putting one ticket up for auction. Especially not one ticket where he’d have to sit next to the winner.
He might have paid more attention to whom had bid on or won the seat, but Stede had been shockingly busy during the raffle, bouncing from the point of sale breaking down to a missing “basket” to someone’s non-soy latte resulting in the utter destruction of one of the gender inclusive bathrooms. Everyone else had specific jobs. Stede’s had been to smooth the way for any issues and, sadly, he’d had nothing but issues.
By the time the last winner was called, he’d been dead tired. Enough that Lucius had pushed him out of the shop, promising to do the cleaning and closing so Stede could go soak in the tub.
So, in short, Stede’s life had completely changed since he’d purchased the tickets. He’d gotten a divorce, came out of the closet (and had a mini slut era), quit his job, opened a business that was shockingly popular, moved from his old home into one in his new ‘gayborhood,’ run a raffle for a trans charity that raised $50,000, and even adopted a cat. Her name was Checkers, a slightly rotund but very sweet tuxedo cat.
Figuring out who was his seatmate sort of didn’t even figure in, given everything else. Until he saw the man sliding into seat 1F. Then he wished he’d thought to at least ask.
The man was utterly stunning.
He had black hair, liberally salted with grays and looking devastatingly pretty. His tawny skin seemed to damn near glow in the afternoon light, showing off that pretty art to gorgeous effect. He was wearing slim jeans and a cropped black shirt, a jersey sort of mesh that, Stede realized, he could just barely see through.
And, in a purple, glittery script, it read “ Scrummy ” and Stede’s mouth was suddenly very, very dry.
The very scrummy man gave a small smile at Stede. “Hey,” his voice was a gorgeous baritone purr that shot through Stede unfairly for a word that was only three letters. “Nice shirt,” the man smirked.
Stede glanced down and groaned. He’d forgotten that he’d worn the shirt Lucius gave him. The sleeves clung to his biceps and it was tight across his chest where it, rather unfortunately, read “RUGBY DILF”. Stede cleared his throat and offered, “I like yours too.” The man absolutely was scrummy.
The man beamed. “Always nice to have wear that works in the club and on the pitch!”
Stede snorted, unable to help the laugh at that. He offered a hand, “Stede.”
The gorgeous man took his hand, his grasp firm and dry. “Ed.”
“Well, Ed, judging by your familiar accent, you’re here to root for the right team.”
Ed grinned, “Fuck yea big Wallabies fan, me.” Stede dropped the hand and pouted and Ed titled his head back (and oh what a pretty neck) and howled in laughter. “Fuckin hell mate,” he added a little giggle that was terribly cute. “Your face was fuckin devistated .”
“Well I wasn’t looking forward to sitting here next to a Wallabies fan!” He chose to ignore the mental reminder that wheen he’d bought these tickets they were for him and Mary, who he assumed was a fan of the Australian team.
Ed settled into his seat next to Stede. “Well, just my lucky day, then, to score this seat.”
Stede bit his lip, thinking it might be odd but then he blurt it out, “Well, I’m glad the raffle went to a fan.”
The other man looked at him with surprise. “How’d you know?”
“Oh, I donated them.” He tried to explain the situation as succinctly as possible to avoid boring Ed. But Ed’s eyes were wide open, his fascination evident. Ed didn’t seem to think that Stede was a fool for not knowing Mary hated rugby, and he winced when Stede explained Mary inadvertently outing him and all. They missed the opening kick off as Stede explained how he didn’t hold it against her--not in the least because her girlfriend Evie definitely would kill a man if given an opportunity. He explained opening his business and Ed gushed about how he loved it at the Lighthouse.
“I was having a shitty day, y’know the kind? Where it feels like it eats you up and you can’t escape it but you gotta get outta your own head?” Ed shouted over the cheering people around them. “And so I went on a walk and I saw the outline and was like what the fuck is that and then when I saw it was a queer space, I hd to go in. And then the biggest looking dude I’ve ever met basically swept me into side room, handed me knitting needles and,” he shrugged, “An hour later I had a mouse sized scarf and a new hobby.”
Stede beamed. “Wee John is a wonder. He’s a gentle giant, but he certainly keeps the peace.”
Another roaring cheer pulled Stede’s attention away from Ed. He was surprised to see the All Blacks were up 6 to nothing. “Oh! We’re winning!”
Ed laughed. “Yea we are! So,” he waited until the teams were gathered at their respective sides to ask, “If I’d wandered in and found you and your…?”
“My book club?” Stede finished. “Oh, I’d have been far too intimidated to bully you into it the way Wee John does.”
He didn’t quite miss the narrowing of Ed’s eyes, as if Stede hadn’t answered the question. “Oh, dear!” Stede winced as he noticed one of the players gushing blood from his mouth. “Number 17. Ole Blood Bucket Bill.”
Ed huffed, “Fucker probably donates a pint of blood every game, I swear he’s got some fuckin hemophilia in his genes,” Ed added with a wry grin.
The announcer’s voice rolled over them, reporting “A brief delay of play due to injury.”
“So, you never told me what you do, Ed,” Stede turned his full attention to his new companion.
The pretty man shrugged. “Retired now, mostly. Used to do ah…lotta media stuff. Ads and media and shit. To be honest, it got to be a real drag, workin seventy or eighty hours a week trying to find ways to convince people to consume shit they didn’t need while the planet burns, y’know?”
Stede dared to pat the man’s hand. “I understand. What do you enjoy doing with your time now?”
The question seemed to surprise Ed. “Um. Been digging up a garden for m’self?”
“Oh, we have a fun gardening club that meets biweekly--that’s every other week, not twice a week--and they’re lovely. Personally I have a bit of a brown thumb. What do you grow?”
Ed’s soft smile was so precious that Stede nearly missed the announcer, but for the strains of Prince’s Kiss . Then the words sank in and his blood went cold. “Aw, alright folks, the AV guys have brought out the Kiss Cam!”
Sure enough, when he turned his head, he saw a heterosexual couple displayed on the projection screen. In panic he turned to Ed. “Ed! I bought that seat for my wife. Well, ex wife.”
Ed had turned to see the projection and smiled a little at the kissing duo. “Hmm? Yea? Your ex you said?”
“And when I did they had a disclaimer for the kiss cam,” Stede added.
“Mm, okay?” Ed didn’t seem fazed.
Stede was choking on all the words he couldn’t get out, like ‘ we could end up on a kiss cam!’ and ‘what if they see two men and think we’re together ’ or ‘what if they think we’re a joke! ’ He remembered well the “gags” of two men pretending to kiss at events like this! What if they mocked Ed? That was easier than thinking about if they put them up, what would Ed do? Stede…would quite like a chance to kiss Ed, of course, but not like this! Not to be shot down so publically!
While those words blocked up his voice, he saw the projected image change.
There, larger than life, was Ed. He glanced over and beamed . Stede felt like he was frozen, shocked and unsure.
And then, easy as breathing, Ed leaned over, hand sliding behind Stede’s head, fingers curing in his hair, as he pulled Stede close and oh.
Ed was kissing him.
Ed’s lips were soft and very plush and so very sweet as they teased Stede’s. His fingers slid delightfully against Stede’s skull and Stede melted under it, grabbing the man’s collar in both hands and pulling him closer. Then Ed’s mouth opened, just a hint, a taunting flash of tongue, an open mouth inviting Stede to play. And he wanted to play.
Stede chased Ed’s tongue with his own and felt the man melt into his arms, clinging as Stede kissed him deeply.
“Get a room already, sheesh! ” Some obnoxious boor yelled almost directly into Stede’s ear.
Stede jumped back, one hand on his collar and one buried in the hair that was somehow even softer than it looked. “I’m ah…terribly sorry…”
“I’m not,” Ed shrugged, his smile sweet and soft and Stede longed to kiss it again. “Kinda wanted to kiss you as soon as I sat down so,” he shrugged.
“Edward--I assume it’s Edward although it could be Edwin or Edgar or perhaps just Ed--”
He laughed. “It’s Edward.”
Stede nodded, trying to manage his anxiety away. “RIght. Edward. Would you be interested in getting a drink with me? As a date. A romantic date, not a friend date or…well, I don’t know if there are other kinds--”
Ed leaned in and kissed him, soft, sweet and brief. When he pulled away, Ed said, “Yes. I’d love a date. The more romantic the better. Since that’s what I want with you.”
“And could that date be like…now? I know a tapas place not far from here?”
“Sounds good,” Ed nodded at the field where they’d resumed play. “But the game…”
He took Ed’s hand. “With all due respect…fuck the game.”
Ed giggled the whole way out of the stadium.