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It’s been a long, satisfying morning for Ed, out here on the edge of the Bay of Bengal. He’s been up since the sky was still inky black and spattered with stars, out on Chilika Lake, literally up with the birds. Today he’d been on the trail of a huge flock of glossy ibis, the waterbirds marked with iridescent colour, beautiful together, and his pics are fantastic. He kicks out the stand for his scooter and hefts his camera bag over his shoulder, glad to be back at the hotel for a little siesta.
He nods to the hotel crew as he wanders into the resort, weaving his way down the path between the pastel-painted, thatched-roofed round huts and the lush gardens, dodging a ticking sprinkler on his way through, breathing in the onion and spice of the dahi bara that Pramod, the co-owner and chef, cooks up for daily breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner, too. Ed dreams about that dish for weeks when he goes home, every year.
He stops short at the corner before the office at the sound of another voice speaking English, just loud enough to make out the words.
“This is nothing like the website,” says the voice, sounding a little put out.
It’s a middle-aged, wealthy white man kind of voice, and also one with a Kiwi accent, which makes Ed sigh, like come on, man, don’t ruin this for Kiwis. He loves this place specifically because it’s somewhere wealthy white tourists don’t bother to come, but hey. Apparently someone got lost along the way.
Pramod’s husband and co-owner Santosh is doing his usual best to calm the situation down, which is to say, Santosh actually doesn’t give a lot of fucks about making nice with asshole tourists, but he’s cuttingly polite about it anyway. “Perhaps you were looking at the incorrect website.”
“No, no, it was certainly the Abhyudaya Bird View Resort. This is that, isn’t it? I haven’t accidentally gone to the wrong spot?”
Ed peeks around the corner. Can’t see the guy’s face, just a pair of pale, freckled, golden-haired and very shapely forearms showing Santosh a phone.
Wait, hang the fuck on.
Kiwi. Arms with a capital A. Ginger-blond.
Santosh, for his part, looks like he cares less with every passing second. “That is our name, yes.”
“And that is a photograph of the Marina Bay Sands Resort in Singapore, isn’t it?” The hands scroll a bit. “Right here on your website. I think this one might be Mexico?”
Santosh delivers the least fussed shrug. “I suppose our website might have been hacked.”
“To post… images of fancier resorts?”
Oh, god, if Ed had any doubts left, they’re all gone now. He knows those arms. He knows that voice. He especially knows the bitchy little undertone that adds the tiniest bit of sweet spice to what’s actually a very kind outlook on the world.
“One simply doesn’t know the motives of internet crooks these days.” Santosh catches sight of Ed lurking around the corner and lifts a brow the smallest amount. “May I telephone for a ride to take you somewhere better suited to your standards, sir?”
“What? Oh, no, no, I’m sorry, I think I’ve given a mistaken impression. This is infinitely better than I was hoping for.”
There it is. That’s the guy Ed’s looking for.
He steps around the corner, and gets hit with his favourite blast of pure sunshine. If it was his first time setting eyes on the guy, it’d be a real oh fuck of a first impression; they might have known each other going on ten years, but he still gets the same first-time thrill every time. He’s about Ed’s age, just the right amount of wrinkles and scruff and softness to say he’s lived a little. His hair’s like spun gold in the hot midday sun, and he’s wearing an absurd short-sleeved button-down shirt covered in flamingos, pink on blue. Biceps. Forearms. Calves carved of stone, between his explorer khaki shorts and his shiny new straight-from-the-store hiking boots.
He turns to follow Santosh’s gaze as he looks across at Ed, and after a brief moment where his face holds as much surprise as Ed’s must, breaks into a huge, dimpled grin.
“Ed?” Disbelieving, lovely. “Ed?”
“Yep,” Ed says, stepping forward like a guy who’s been hit with a sonic boom. “Yep, that’s me, Edward Teach, born on a beach.” He goes across. ”Stede, what the fuck are you doing here?”
Stede’s still staring at him like he’s some kind of hallucination, awe-struck and delighted. His eyes are the same sparkling hazel Chilika Lake gets when her silt and seagrass get stirred up. “Well, I’m here for the birds, obviously. I was just telling Santosh here how pleasantly surprised I am by this lovely place! So much more character than I’d feared from the website.”
“Great place, hey? Love it here.”
Stede reaches out and squeezes Ed’s arm like he’s not sure he can do more (he could do anything he wanted, like, anything, Ed’s got suggestions), and Ed still has to bite his lip. “What are you doing here?”
Ed waves his hand. “Photography, the uzhe.”
“I remember you said you were going on a trip, but I didn’t realise it was here.” Stede hasn’t let go of him, like he can’t bring himself to stop touching Ed, and that—yeah, well. That’s a little bit why Ed had to fly out to East India and lose himself in the most remote place he could.
What are the odds of Stede following him here, by obviously genuine accident?
Fucking universe.
“And you,” Ed says. “You said you were still deciding where to spend your holidays!”
Stede laughs, and somehow out here in the warm air, that sound is even brighter than it is every day at the magazine they both work for back home. “I did! I last minuted it, hence the hotel situation.”
Ah shit, right, Ed interrupted here. He turns to find Santosh staring at them with one brow hiked as high as it goes, mouth hidden by his big moustache, but cheeks rounded with glee. “Do not mind me, I’m just standing here in my own garden.”
Ed snorts. “Santosh, this is Stede. Stede, Santosh. Been coming here for a decade, best place on earth.”
“Stede,” Santosh says, like a man who doesn’t know all of Ed’s business, doesn’t know that name perfectly well. “Wonderful.”
There’s a reason he’s never told Stede about this place, even though he shares most things with Stede, because… fuck, it’s been such a long time of aching, wanting, hoping, and failing over and over again to believe that Stede might ever feel more than friendship toward him. And he’s gotta keep some parts of himself safe. Places he can retreat to, if shit goes pear-shaped, which, yeah. The last time they saw each other had maybe felt a little like that.
Stede doesn’t look like he feels the same way. He’s just beaming back at Ed like Ed’s still his favourite person on earth.
Ed loves their friendship. Loves it so much that he knows he can’t risk it for something as stupid as wanting the coolest guy he knows to love him back, you know? He’s not the kind of person who gets that, and he’s almost made peace with it.
Not quite.
It’s harder when Stede’s shaking Santosh’s hand all over again. “Well, a reintroduction was definitely in order, then! Any friend of Ed’s is a friend of mine.”
Santosh looks a little like he might disagree with that on principle, but Ed shoots him a Blackbeardy kind of warning look, the sort that gets magazine editors quaking. Santosh just rolls his eyes and smiles at Stede.
“You’re very welcome here, sir.”
He’s glancing at Ed again, and there’s that calculating vibe Ed knows very well. Santosh has this quaint little resort, yeah, but it’s his side hobby compared to the multi-million dollar investment funds he manages, Ed’s included, and Ed’s never known anyone with a better tactical brain, not even himself.
So it probably shouldn’t be a surprise when Santosh’s smile goes extra serene. “The only small problem is, sir, that all of our rooms are booked for tonight.”
Stede’s face falls instantly. It’s like kicking a puppy. Stone cold, Santosh, stone fucking cold.
“But I had made a booking just yesterday!”
Santosh shrugs. “Unfortunately we have no record of that booking, and there’s no space left.”
“You sure?” Ed says. “I thought those dicks in the Pelican room pushed off this morning. You said they were leaving early, that they were going to cost you a night—”
“Unfortunately they damaged some facilities,” Santosh says smoothly. “That room is now closed for repairs.”
Ed’s been here a week, and it’s never full. This little village is close to the Nalabana Bird Sanctuary on Chilika Lake, but it’s far from anywhere else. It’s a little quirky, which is why Ed likes it, and that means he doesn’t usually have to compete for a spot. He’s pretty sure that if he wandered over there and opened a random door, he’d find the room empty, available.
“Oh, no,” Stede says, hangdog face drooping even more. “I’ve really got my heart set on staying here. Are you sure there’s nothing you can do?”
He’s darting little sideways glances at Ed, and Ed’s not going to let himself hope, but… Stede really, really wants to spend time with him, huh? Even if it’s just being best friends. Ed loves that stuff. That’s the good shit.
He clears his throat, makes sure his non-verbal language says something really simple to Santosh, like I’m never coming back if this shit doesn’t work out, but if it does we’ll have our wedding here, then turns to Stede and says, “Hey, uh. I’ve got a king-sized bed in my room. Nobody else in it.” A scoff. “Obviously. Because I’m super fucking single right now, so…”
Stede stares at him. “So… oh!” There it goes, he’s getting it now. And he’s… he’s frowning. “Ed, I couldn’t put you out like that. Mary says I’m a terrible snorer, arms and legs all over the place—”
“I sleep like a rock, mate,” Ed says, mentally thanking Stede’s ex-wife for being a lightweight at the whole sleeping thing. “You can do whatever the fuck you want with your arms and legs.” (No, really, Ed’s got a list).
He also doesn’t want Stede to feel pressured, or bad about this in any way, so he adds, “Only if you want to. There are some much nicer hotels a little further up the—”
“I want to,” Stede rushes out. “No, I do! Want to stay here. Only here. Thank you, Ed.” He turns to Santosh. “Will that be all right?”
“There will be an extra charge,” Santosh says, starting to win the war of eyes here. “But other than that, yes, no problems at all.”
~
Blind panic is about the general condition of Stede’s poor heart by the time they arrive at Ed’s room. Like all the others here it’s a gorgeous plaster-daubed clay cylinder of a thing, each painted in beautiful pastels, and theirs is a pale purple, titled Osprey.
Their room. His and Ed’s. His best friend, Ed, with whom he’s going to be sharing not only that room, but also a bed.
The best friend he’s quietly in love with, a state that’s existed for—well, probably for as long as he’s known Ed, actually, but a thing he only came to understand with a real lightning bolt of clarity after the nature magazine’s New Year party a couple of weeks ago.
Ed had disappeared from the party just as midnight was creeping ever closer, as the merriment was rising and their coupled-up workmates had been sliding into each other’s arms. Stede’s bone-deep divorced loneliness notwithstanding, everything felt duller without Ed there, so Stede had—of course, like a good friend—gone looking for him.
He’d found him outside on the balcony, down to the last glowing embers of a cigarette, leaning moodily on the railing as he stared out over the city. Slightly tipsy and ruffled and lovely, and Stede had felt that oh-so-familiar flood of warm affection at the sight of him.
They’d leaned against the railing together, not needing to say a thing. Ed had stubbed out his cigarette. Stede had wordlessly offered him the second flute of champagne he’d picked up on the way out, and Ed had accepted it. They’d looked up to the sky together, at the heavy-hanging moon.
Inside, Jim’s one-minute warning siren—which they’d been testing all week, startling Stede out of his skin every time—let out a long wail.
“D’you ever feel like you’re… just treading water, waiting to drown?” Ed had asked suddenly. His stare had been intense, direct.
Stede had nodded. “I have very much felt that way, yes.”
Ed had slid a couple of steps closer along the railing, until their shoulders were pressed together.
“Back at the start, when I met you, it was the most fun I’d had in weeks. Months. Maybe ever.”
“It’s been lovely,” Stede had said, a little tingle of wrong tickling at his scalp from back at the start. Back at the start, but not now? “You’re a good man, Ed.”
Ed had let out a mirthless little laugh, then lifted his champagne flute and chugged the whole sparkling thing in several gulps. He'd set his flute aside, turned back to Stede. His eyes held the moon, his expression soft. “I guess what I’m saying is, I felt happy, when we saw each other more.”
Inside, the crew had started chanting.
Ten, nine, eight—
“I know you’re busy with other shit. The kids, the work. But…”
Seven, six, five—
But Ed was so close to him, leaning in. Beautiful in the moonlight, lips parted, watching Stede’s face. There was some sort of feeling shivering between them, vibrating in the air, bringing out goosebumps on Stede's arms. “Ed, I—”
Four, three, two—
"One!" The door slammed open, the noise pouring out, Pete wearing a party hat and beaming as everyone shouted in unison, “Happy New Year!”
Stede stood there, locked in Ed’s gaze, feeling like he’d tripped over the edge of a cliff before he even knew that he was standing on one.
“Happy New Year, Stede,” Ed had said, flatly.
What else could he say? “Happy New Year, Edward.”
Ed’s smile hadn’t reached his eyes. He hadn't even offered one of his fantastic hugs. He’d just reached out and patted Stede twice on the shoulder, and said, “Hope it’s a good one.”
And then he’d just… left. A little glance back over his shoulder, yes, but Stede had watched him walk away with a deep ache in his stomach. Which hadn’t abated until sometime closer to three in the morning, when he’d sat up suddenly in bed after hours of thinking, electrified by the sudden realisation that he’d—he’d wanted to kiss Ed in that moment.
Wait. He’d—oh, god.
But it was too late. They were both on vacation, and Ed didn’t reply to his texts, which made sense, of course, because Ed had told him he was heading off somewhere to clear his head, take some photographs just for himself. And Stede had said he needed to do the same, just get away from it all, and after days of stewing and mulling and thinking and thinking, he’d decided on here.
Cosmically. Fatedly. Disastrously? Fuck, he hopes not.
Ed wrestles with the door for a second before he manages to shoulder it open, stumbling inside. He recovers, getting himself upright and clearing his throat, sweeping a hand to indicate the room. “Welcome home.”
There is indeed one bed, as previously described.
There is truly nothing other than the bed, which… “Did you say a king-size?”
Ed chuckles. “Santosh is kinda… generous with the descriptions. It’s a good bed though.”
He demonstrates by bouncing onto it, flopping onto his back, folding his long legs at the ankles and throwing his arms up behind his head, which makes his t-shirt ride up a little, exposing a strip of hairy belly.
Stede struggles to swallow. “Right.” It would be generous to call this one a queen. Closer to a double, he thinks. Which is not a problem, descriptively! He has a lot of admiration for Santosh’s business acumen, honestly, and he had read the almost universally glowing reviews of this place, so he knows the guests love it.
It’s more… well.
All that thinking over the last couple of weeks has taken him from a nebulous sort of cluelessness to a very distinct, specific, and somewhat urgent clarity: he’s in love with Ed. Moreover, that thrumming electricity he’s always felt beside Ed has coalesced into something much brighter and slightly more terrifying.
He wants Ed. Desperately. Has thought of little else for the past few days, as if this understanding has unblocked a stream in his brain, and now it’s flowing, oh, is it flowing.
And he’s going to have to sleep a generous three inches from Ed here, at best.
Ed pats the mattress beside himself, eyes big and vulnerable. “You don't want to test it out?”
Shit. He can’t let Ed feel like he is the problem here. He’s just so very aware that there’s no way Ed could possibly feel the same about him. They’re friends! Ed has said so many times how grateful he is for Stede’s friendship. And since New Year he’s had the sinking fear that Ed’s been made to feel uncomfortable by the emotions Stede didn’t even know he had, and, well.
Surely this is an opportunity to remedy that? To prove that he can be Ed’s friend, that he can hold those feelings?
It’s less scary than the alternative, which (whisper-screaming in the back of his head) suggests that maybe, possibly, perhaps, Ed might… also feel the things he’s feeling. He’s never going to forget the look on Ed’s face, leaning in so close to him at that party. It had felt, in hindsight, like yearning.
God, he’s been standing here for quite a long time, hasn’t he?
“I’d love to,” he says, recovering himself. He tosses aside his backpack and does as Ed did, taking a good standing leap and plopping directly beside him on the mattress.
The bed, it transpires, is either not quite as good when shared by two, or—a distinct possibility—is also conspiring against him, along with everything and everyone else in the world.
The weight of him landing on one side sort of… launches Ed slightly into the air, and he comes down in a tangle of limbs, mostly on top of Stede.
Quite suddenly, Stede has his best friend plastered all over him, warm and solid, one palm resting on Stede’s chest, over his hammering heart. Ed’s mouth is slightly open in surprise, and Stede can’t help that his gaze drops to Ed’s lips. He feels Ed’s shuddered intake of breath along the whole length of his body.
Oh, god. One terrified glance up to meet Ed’s gaze tells him that he’s not imagining how this feels. Ed’s eyes are even more lovely up close, warm and full of feeling, and his body fits the line of Stede’s just exactly, one thigh slung over his own, and if they weren’t wearing any clothes—which they are, they are, of course—this situation would be escalating by the second.
“Stede,” Ed breathes. It sounds reverent. Strands of his hair have come loose from his bun, tickling against Stede’s collarbone. Ed’s hand is moving from his chest, up to his neck, sliding to gently cup Stede’s cheek. “Mate, I—”
There are several loud thumps on the door, which for some reason is half frosted glass, and the distinct shape of Santosh calls out. “Edward? I have some bad news.”
Ed’s expression goes very fixed for a moment, and then he drops his forehead to Stede’s shoulder. “Fucking hell.” He rolls off a moment later, the whole bed creaking and jiggling as he slides off, heading for the door. “Hold on a sec.”
Stede lies there fixed in place, staring up at the ceiling, holding on for dear life. There’s a fan fixed to the wall over the bed that’s not doing a lot for the heat, grinding out repeated turns of the blades. Stede’s sweating in places he didn’t know he could sweat. The sunlight glows across the wall as Ed yanks the door open, and all Stede has in his brain is oh god, oh god, oh god, is this happening?
“Heyyyy Santosh,” Ed says, through his teeth. “What now?”
Santosh sounds unbothered. Stede suspects there’s nothing that could bother him. “Your tour group for this afternoon has sadly cancelled. Something about their bus breaking down.”
Ed sighs. “Cool, okay. Can probably fit ‘em in tomorrow.”
“Perhaps!” Santosh says. “Unfortunately Bijay has sent a message from the lake to say that the boat is ready for you.”
“Okay?” Ed scrubs a hand through his hair, dislodging more. Stede’s got a great view of his back now, probably the best view he’s ever had of Ed’s extremely shapely arse, a piece of knowledge that’s making itself known in his head with multiple exclamation marks. “Tell Bijay they cancelled. I’ll still pay him for today, obvs, he shouldn’t have to wear that. Tell him to take the afternoon off.”
“Bijay has prepared very strenuously for this tour. He wants to know if you could bring anyone else.”
There’s silence. Stede sits up, the bed letting out a great creak, and if Santosh didn’t already think they were in bed together then he certainly will by now. Because they were. In bed together. Ed on top of Stede, looking at his mouth, whispering his name—
“I wouldn’t mind a little boat trip,” Stede says, before he registers any intention of moving his mouth. “If you’re short of things to do?”
Ed casts him an almost despairing look over his shoulder. “Don’t think I’m short of things to do, nope, but all right.” He spins back to Santosh. “Tell Bijay we’ll take the boat out, yeah. Thanks, mate.”
“You’re very welcome, of course.”
Ed slams the door none too gently behind him and leans back against it with a great sigh, eyes squeezed shut.
Stede bites his lip. “Everything all right?”
“Maybe.” Ed peeks out at him. “Fucking hope so, yeah.” With visible effort he straightens himself up and shakes it off. “Still can’t believe the odds of you turning up here. Did you say you came for the birds?”
Stede nods. “For the Nalabana Bird Sanctuary, yes, because…” He lets it trail away, not quite ready to say it yet, let alone to Ed, of all people. “Because I’ve heard it’s special.”
Finally there’s a real smile blooming. “Really fucking is, mate. You lucked into finding the right guy to go with you.”
There’s nobody else in the world Stede would rather have by his side, so yes. He really thinks he did.
~
Three hours into their lake time, Ed’s finally relaxed enough to stop feeling like he’s made of ants. Bijay’s boat is a classic, one of the elongated fishermen’s craft that slide smoothly over the surface of Chilika Lake, the world’s largest brackish lagoon, and Bijay himself is up the back, punting with a long staff. Ed and Stede are underneath the little shade hut in the centre of the boat, and Stede’s face has been full of wonder the entire time they’ve been here.
So it should be. The lake’s fucking amazing, huge expanse of water surrounded by reeds, with Nalabana Island in the middle, the spot the birds love best. The Bay of Bengal’s on the other side of the bar and this stretch of water is sheltered, slow and easy, which is how the afternoon has felt, too.
They’ve been chatting, laughing, doing bits, all of Ed’s favourite things about spending time with Stede. It’s easy, like breathing. And now they’ve lapsed into the kind of comfortable silence that Ed only ever feels like he can handle around Stede, which is giving him plenty of time to sit and think about earlier. Stede’s body under his, soft and firm. Stede’s eyes looking up at him, the way they would if they were tangled up together…
“Pretty special,” Ed murmurs out loud, and Stede turns his way, smiling.
“It’s incredible,” Stede says. “Ed, I can’t remember the last time I counted so many birds in one place!”
They’ve seen Wood Sandpipers scurrying around in the shallows, speckly little guys. Northern Shovellers taking flight. A Spot-Billed Pelican sitting sentry on a piece of wood, waiting for her next meal. More shelducks and plovers than he can count, fuck, it’s been a big day for birds. Ed’s been clicking away, snapping action shots, but the whole time Stede’s just been watching, absorbing, soaking it in like a sponge. Birds are mostly Ed's gig, so seeing Stede this focussed is giving him all the warm and fuzzies.
“They love it here,” Ed says. It’s a migratory hotspot, birds swinging in for the warm weather, hanging out for a bit, heading home to locations all across Europe, Asia, even Siberia. “I’ve been coming here for years, doing a little photography of my own, running wildlife photography tours to get other people into it.”
“I love that,” Stede says. Ed knows he does. Stede’s a journalist at the magazine Ed takes photographs for, and he’s maybe the first guy whose writing Ed’s read and thought, yeah, he gets it, same way I do.
There’s movement in the lagoon ahead, and Ed’s heart leaps the way it does every time, a second before Bijay calls out to them, pointing.
“Get ready,” Ed says, nudging him. “Something even more special.”
Marine life is Stede's number one thing, so this is the best of both worlds, as far as Ed is concerned. Stede frowns out at the water for a second, not seeing it. There are fishing boats off to the right, stopped by the fish traps that are built into the shallows, little networks of wooden poles and nets. These visitors love a little fishing help, and Ed can’t blame them. Who wants to work for your dinner when someone else can catch it for you?
There’s probably a metaphor in there, but he doesn’t get time to think it through, because Stede gasps loudly and grabs his arm. “Ed, is that—”
“Irrawaddy dolphin, yeah.” He can see four, five bulbous heads bobbing out of the water now, gleaming under the hazy late afternoon light.
“Critically endangered," Stede says breathlessly. "Only a few thousand of them left out there in the world, only... only a hundred or so in this lagoon, if I'm remembering right, and we’re seeing what, five percent of them right now? I can't believe it.”
Stede’s away a second later, crawling to the front of the boat, while Bijay yells a warning shout from the back and they all rock side to side. Ed can only laugh, because he gets it. There’s something about seeing these creatures that blows his fucking mind.
Guts him a little, too. The impact people have on the natural world is something he’s always aware of in his work. He’s seen far too much awful shit out there.
So finding a little pod that’s defying the odds? Feels like there’s fucking… hope, somehow. They’re cooperative fishers, work in tandem with the people. Herd the fish into the nets, get their share handed back, and if the whole world worked like that, maybe things would be on the upward trend.
Watching Stede leaning over the bow to get a better look at them, Ed feels a whole different kind of hope, too. He remembers that night at the party. Psyching himself up to just fucking do it, tell Stede his feelings. He’d come so close, and he’d almost, almost thrown caution to the wind, used the New Year excuse, and leaned in to kiss him.
The perfect blankness on Stede’s face even inches away had done him in instead, and he’d had to walk away.
Walked out of the party. Went back to his place, had a shit night of sleep, woke up the next morning, and went to the airport three days earlier, phone off, peaced out.
Flew here, where Santosh and Pramod are always happy to see him, and he’d let them feed him and hug him and listen to him and berate him a little every now and again for not just talking to Stede.
And then Stede was here, and what the fuck.
He’s spun through every possible thought about that. Wondered if Santosh somehow tracked Stede down, nudged him this way. Side-eyed Lucius and Izzy from afar, because god knows they’re both sick of his pining. But he really thinks this was just fucking… fate. Coincidence.
“Ed!” Stede’s crawling back toward him now, eyes red. “They’re so beautiful. So persistent! Against all odds, they’re here, they’re just… living their lives?” He looks fucking undone by it. “Nothing can top that. I don’t even care why I came here in the first place.”
Ed opens his arms, and Stede crawls on in. Lets Ed hug him tight, laughing. Buries his nose in Stede’s hair, in the lavender shampoo that he’d roll around in if he could.
“Wait, what did you come here for?” he says at last.
Stede pushes himself up, wiping away tears, but he slides his hand into Ed’s like it belongs there, and no way in hell is Ed going to let go. “It seems a bit silly in retrospect.”
Ed hates everyone who’s ever made Stede feel like that. “Try me.”
“You remember the Badmintons, in accounting? The ones who got fired for all those irregularities.”
“Mmhmm,” Ed says evenly. They were assholes, especially to Stede, and he might’ve nudged a little info toward HR, set the ball rolling. “Good riddance.”
“Quite. Well, on my birthday last year, I woke up in the morning to find fifty pink flamingos on my lawn.”
“Love a flamingo,’ Ed says.
“So do I! So naturally I assumed they were from someone who cared about me. Knew me well, wanted me to have a bit of extra joy on my birthday. My first birthday alone, since the divorce.” He twists his hands together for a second. “I actually thought they might have come from you at first.”
“Aw,” Ed says, heart thumping that little bit harder, because Stede thought that about him first, when he thought of people who cared? “Wish it had been from me.”
“Unfortunately it was from them, which I found out when I got to the office.” He’s staring intently down at the bottom of the boat now. “They asked if I liked the flamingos, fell over themselves laughing when I said yes. Nigel said he’d assumed I would, given that I was, you know.”
Ed raises his brows. “A man of good taste?”
Stede snorts. “Not according to them. No, they’d apparently staged the whole thing to imply that I was gay. Which I wasn’t, at the time. Or not aware of, at least.”
"Flamingos are for everyone, man.” Ed winces. “Fucking hate that they pushed you like that."
“Oh, so do I, but.” Stede smiles. “I think the joke’s on them, because it really got me thinking about it. At first, you know. What would be so wrong with that? And gradually a bit more like, it’s really sort of aspirational, isn’t it, to love another man?” He waves his hands. “And now here I am. Out, proud, and on a hunt for real flamingos, because it seemed a very affirming sort of thing to do with my recent inheritance, given how much my father would have hated it.”
Love, love, love another man, holy shit, Ed needs to get himself under control here. Fuck, Stede really has been through so much these past couple of years. And Ed’s been there for him throughout. Been a good friend, he hopes, but he knows he’s kept a little more distance than he wanted to. All he can do now is lean back and gesture to get Bijay’s attention, before he points downshore, toward the island. “That way, brother.”
He nudges Stede with his shoulder. “You deserve all the flamingos, mate. Think they’ve been waiting for you.”
Stede’s eyes are sparkling again, instantly. “You’ve seen them?”
Ed shakes his head. “Not yet. Always try to catch the landing, every year—sometimes I get it, sometimes I don’t. But I know where they usually hang out, and they’re due any day now. Gonna fly in from Iran, from Gujarat, have a little lagoon time in the warmth.”
There’s silence as Bijay punts them that way, but Stede hasn’t let go of Ed’s hand, and Ed’s making no move to take it back. Aspirational, huh? He’s still thinking about that one. He knew Stede had come out. Ed even went to the bar about it, to the little party organised by Lucius. Wasn’t a coming out party, more like a welcome to the fun side gig. Ed drank a few fruity little cocktails, sang a few rounds of karaoke, but he mostly just watched Stede in the middle of all his friends, glowing that little bit brighter with every passing minute.
Watching, waiting, hoping. He’d hoped, and he’d hoped, and he’d hoped. He’d known Stede needed time.
But now they’re here, and Stede sounds so much more sure of himself.
He squeezes Stede’s hand. “Proud of you, you know that?” He can’t help it, he has to say it. Stede looks up at him with those big eyes, and he holds himself back from lunging in for the kiss. “You’ve always been you, y’know? My favourite fucking lunatic. But you’re owning it, man. You’re doing it, and that takes guts.”
“Thank you,” Stede says, voice a little wobbly. “That means a lot, coming from you, Ed, I—”
Bijay lets out an ear-splitting whistle from up the back, and they both shut up and look out at the edge of the lagoon, where he’s pointing. The sun’s been dropping the whole time they’ve been out here, and the sky has dipped through peach and into raspberry, the sun down to a warm glow in the gorgeous blush of sunset. The clouds are painted every shade of pink and orange, and it’s all captured in the smooth surface of the lake, like they’re gliding through a field of cotton candy, sugar sweet.
They’re sitting so close that Ed can feel Stede’s intake of breath at the sudden movement in the sky, right on time.
Like section of the clouds are dislodging, drifting downward, surprisingly graceful for such tall birds. Their wings are sweeping, long legs stretched behind, pink beaks gleaming, like they really were waiting for the moment Stede was here to show him this.
“It’s a flamboyance,” Stede gasps. “A flamboyance of flamingos!”
Of course that’s the collective noun for these fuckers, and of course Stede knows it. His hand is even tighter in Ed’s as they watch the birds descend, skidding down into the water to break the reflection, running the last few steps. Stede lets out a little sob as they slide into place and settle, dozens upon dozens of them, like they’ve always been there instead of having come from hundreds of kilometres away.
Settling into their new normal like it’s where they were always meant to be, and maybe—maybe that’s possible for Ed and Stede, too. A whole turn of the world, a new leaf, a different angle on the same thing.
“They’re so beautiful,” Stede says. “Imagine thinking these are something to laugh at.”
He looks up at Ed, face rosy in the reflected light of the sunset. Stede deserves that respect, too. Deserves to be revered.
“Stede,” Ed says, shifting a little, turning toward him, taking his other hand, too. “You know what I said that night? That you made me happy, back at the start?”
Stede nods, tears on his lashes. Doesn’t look surprised by the segue in topic. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that I made them happy before.”
He slides his hand up to cup Stede’s chin, an echo, only this time they’re not in the dark. They’re in the warm light of sunset, a hundred flamingos honking to each other across the water, love all around them.
“You never stopped making me happy. Don’t think you ever could. I’m so fucking happy to be here with you right now, just—so fucking glad you came.”
“So am I.”
Stede’s been brave so far, and fuck it, Ed’s going to meet him there. “I dreamed about this, you know? The two of us travelling together one day, being able to share this shit. Being able to sit here and hold your hand, and I just…”
He’s all out of things to say. There’s only this: Stede’s cheek, soft under his thumb. Stede’s pretty hazel eyes staring up at him all hopeful, definitely hopeful, no blankness this time. Full understanding. Stede coming across the world, wanting to be here, wanting to spend time with Ed, wanting—wanting what Ed wants.
He leans in, and presses his lips to Stede’s.
There’s only a moment of hesitation before Stede moans and melts into the kiss, like it’s a relief, like it’s everything he’s been waiting for. Like this, Ed, now, is what he really wanted all along, and his arm flings up, hand tangling in Ed’s hair, and Ed’s heart is soaring.
Bijay lets out a loud wolf whistle up back, but Ed just pulls a middle finger with his free hand and keeps on kissing Stede, laughing.
“Ed,” Stede gasps, breaking away. “You didn’t get a photograph of the flamingos arriving!”
“Don’t need one,” Ed says. Not important, not this time. “Gonna remember this moment for the rest of my life.”
“For the rest of our lives,” Stede says. “If that’s not too much to hope for. Maybe we could be a… a flamboyance of two.”
Ed wants that very fucking much. “I’ll tell Santosh when we get back. He can book us in for next year.”
Stede’s grin slides toward cheeky, and the relief is huge. They’re good. They’re everything they always were, just… more, too. “Oh, at least he’ll have more rooms that far in advance!”
Ed blinks prettily, lets the full eyes loose on Stede. “You want a separate room?”
Stede tips his head back and laughs, the sound echoing out over the water. “God, no, Ed. I don’t want another room. I only want you.”
“You’ve got me,” Ed says. “Got so much more to show you.”
“I can’t wait.”
Tonight in that bed, and tomorrow, and maybe after that... forever.