Archive of Our Own

Stede hasn’t slept. Between his wife attempting to murder him in his sleep, and realising that actually he is very much in love with his co-captain, it had been rather difficult to settle his mind. Instead he’d spent the night plotting. He’d even tracked down Doug and, yes, apologised for his behaviour at the art show, but also discussed some of his plans with the man. And Doug’s no Ed, that’s for sure, but it turns out that he’s actually quite lovely.

Together they’d eventually woken Mary with breakfast in bed (Doug’s idea, though Stede made a mental note to do the same for Ed sometime when he saw how touched she was). Then Stede had left the two of them to… erm… prepare for the day. He’d hurried the children outside, and away from the house, keeping them occupied with visiting the animals for more than an hour!

The three grown ups are just sitting down for morning tea, Mary and Doug having finally emerged from the bedroom (a fact which Stede finds a little baffling - what on earth could they have been doing all this time!?) when there’s a knock at the door. Stede huffs, knowing he’s making what Lucius calls his ‘bitchy’ face, but really he’s just eager to properly outline the rest of his plan so they can set things in motion and he can get back out there to find Ed and make things right.

Unfortunately it’s the English Navy at the door. Stede recognises a couple of them - that awful Wellington fellow and Officer Hornberry, who’d ended up being rather a good sport actually. He even gives Stede a little apologetic wave and a smile.

“Stede Bonnet,” Wellington declares in that awful nasally voice. “You are under arrest-”

It’s Doug who cuts him off, as unlikely as that may seem.

“Oh no, actually it’s all fine. I’m not pressing charges. Just a little misunderstanding.”

Wellington purses his prissy lips.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sneers, then tries again, straightening his shoulders and trying (unsuccessfully) to make himself look a little taller. Stede’s reminded forcibly, and unpleasantly, of Izzy. “Stede Bonnet! You are hereby under arrest for breaching the terms of your pardon, as issued by the Act of Grace, and the subsequent wanton murder of Admiral Chauncey Badminton.”

“Oh right, nevermind,” Doug mutters.

“That’s absurd!” Stede snaps. “Chauncey was drunk. He tripped and shot himself in the face with his own pistol! Whilst he was attempting to murder me, I might add.”

“A lot of that going around,” Mary mumbles, though probably not loud enough for the officers to hear.

“How dare you! Admiral Badminton was a paragon of His Majesty's navy,” Wellington says. “A true gentleman and an expert in weaponry. The only blemish on his record, is that he was brought down by a lily-livered, soft-handed, poor excuse for a pirate like yourself.”

“Well, that’s a little uncalled for,” is all Stede can think to say.

The lower ranked officers are already stepping forward though, shackles at the ready.

“No, please!” Stede tries desperately as the men grab him far too roughly for the silk waistcoat he’s wearing. “Look, I’m home again now. I’m turning my back on the sea! Really going to buckle down and do my bit here. And I swear, I didn’t touch Chauncey!”

“Save your breath, Bonnet,” Wellington sneers. “It won’t be long until the noose is stealing it from you after all.”

“Shit,” Stede mutters.

“Sorry about this, old chap,” Hornberry offers glumly.

*

Ed thought he’d felt like shit before he met Stede. 

Bored. 

Empty. 

Fucking… hopeless. 

But it doesn’t even come close to the way he’s feeling now. So fucking numb.

He turns the piece of red silk over in his hands, focusing on the way the fabric catches on his callouses. He lets it serve as a reminder that he’s not made for things like this. Fine things. 

Fine things like Stede.

He tries not to dwell on the memory of Stede tucking the silk into the pocket of Ed’s borrowed jacket under the moonlight. Because any stirrings of hope he’d felt then, any desperate feeling of ‘maybe’ and ‘is this happening’ had clearly been misplaced. Stede doesn’t want him. Why would he?

The wind catches at the silk, tugging at it and Ed only hesitates for a moment before he loosens his grip, letting it flutter through his fingers to be claimed by the sea.

That’s that then.

Lucius appears behind him, breaking his solitude with his heavy breathing and prattling on about the talent show.

Fucking talent show!

Izzy was right about him. The only thing Ed is good for is being Blackbeard.

Lucius’ words falter when he sees the expression on Ed’s face.

“Ed?” he squeaks. “Is everything alright?”

It’s the Ed that does it. Not Blackbeard, or sir. It has him reaching out, grabbing two handfuls of the front of Lucius shirt, not a thought in his head, only the rush of blood in his ears as he lets the mask of Blackbeard slip back into place. He’s got Lucius half hanging over the side of the ship when Button’s voice rings out somewhere in the rigging above.

“Cap’n! Ye’ll wan’ te hear this,” he shouts. “Olivia’s heard word from land. Cap’n Bonnet’s been taken by the English agin. He’s te be hanged.”

*

“This is absurd! Look at the conditions down here. This has to be some sort of ethical, human rights violation. I haven’t even had a trial!” Stede shouts through the heavy iron bars of his cell towards the door that’s just slammed back down the dark corridor. “Hello? Hello!?”

“I’d give it up if I were you, mate,” a voice says from the shadows. “No one's listening.”

“Oh,” Stede hurriedly straightens his shirt and waistcoat. “Apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

As his eyes adjust to the poor lighting, the man in the neighbouring cell slowly comes into view. He’s slouched up against the back wall with his legs stretched out across the grimy floor in front of him. There’s a burst of amber light from the pipe he’s smoking that momentarily illuminates his face, revealing him to be of a similar age to Stede, maybe a little older, or perhaps just a little more weathered. His hair is longer too, far more unkempt and, though it’s hard to tell in this light, appears to be a shade or two darker.

“S’no bother,” the man says in a cloud of smoke. “Seems like the guards don’t see me much either, judging by how often they feed me.”

“Good lord, they really are the most uncivilised brutes aren’t they? The English.”

The man huffs a slightly gravelly laugh, more smoke blooming from his mouth. “Brutes, yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Stede heaves a sigh and turns away from the bars. There’s a horrible wooden cot against the far side but it’s so repugnant that Stede wanders to the spot by the bars that separate their cells instead. He swipes at the floor, unsuccessfully attempting to clear some of the foulness away, then decides he’ll have to write these breeches off anyway now. He sits, mirroring the other man with his back against the wall and legs stretched out in front of him. “So, what did they get you for? If you don’t mind me asking, of course?” 

The guy huffs another laugh, though this one is decidedly more rueful.

“Piracy,” he says simply, then after a moment's consideration adds “‘mongst other things.”

“Oh! Me too!” Stede says a little excitedly. 

The glow from the next inhale of the other man’s pipe reveals a rather dubious expression.

“It’s true!” Stede declares defensively. “Captain of The Revenge, I’ll have you know.”

A furrow appears in the man’s brow but he still says nothing.

“I’m Stede,” he presses on. “Seeing as it looks as though we’re to be cellmates. Stede Bonnet.”

The other man’s eyes widen in surprise at this. “Fuck off. You’re him? The Gentleman Pirate?”

Stede can hardly be blamed for preening a little bit. “Oh, you’ve heard of me?” 

“Of course I’ve heard of you!” he declares, edging closer to the bars that separate their cells to get a better look. Stede straightens his waistcoat again, and tries to fix his hair surreptitiously. “You’re hot shit! You’re all anyone is talking about from Tortuga to Nassau. S’all the guards here have been talking about for days. You ‘n’ Blackbeard.”

Despite his glee at his apparent new-found notoriety, the reminder of Ed causes his tummy to twist rather uncomfortably.

“I don’t suppose…” Stede starts, tries to play it casual. “Have you heard any news of Blackbeard, at all?”

“Last I heard the guards were moaning about how he’d escaped again.”

“Oh thank god,” Stede exhales in a rush of overwhelming relief. “Thank you… sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Morris,” the other man offers, sticking his arm awkwardly through the bars to shake Stede’s hand. Stede tries not to let his face scrunch up at the layer of dirt and grime he can feel coating Morris’ skin. “You can call me Mo, though.”

“Lovely to meet you, Mo,” Stede offers politely.

“So… you and Blackbeard, huh?” Mo asks, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Yes,” Stede says decisively because he’s done with lying to himself about what they were - are to each other. “We were having a jolly nice time, terrorizing the high seas together before we were betrayed by Izzy Hands.” He spits the name with as much disdain as he can muster.

“Ha, yeah. That sounds like Izzy,” Mo chuckles.

“Been unfortunate enough to meet him have you?” Stede chirps up, because here’s a topic of conversation he can get on board with! “Angry little blighter, isn’t he? Rather jealous, I think. Couldn’t stand to see how much happier Ed was on my ship. Think me beating him in that duel was the last straw, honestly. Ran off in a sulk and then led the English right to us in some bid to ‘win Ed back’. Utterly ridiculous.”

Mo blinks at Stede, shock plain on his face as he digests all that.

“You beat Izzy Hands in a duel?” he asks, disbelieving.

“What? Like it’s hard?” Stede replies snootily, casually brushing some grime from his cuff.

Mo laughs at this. It sort of bursts out of him like he wasn’t ready for it, but it lights Stede up, because this is proof isn’t it? Surely? He’s a proper pirate! He’s got along famously with all the other pirates he’s met… except Izzy. And Jack. So surely, they’re the outliers here. Not Stede.

Mo is back to watching him curiously, though with the hint of a smirk now. He offers his pipe up to Stede through the bars and the scent of the smoke and tobacco momentarily overwhelms Stede. There’s that horrible ache in his chest at the memory of Ed again. He waves politely in decline.

“Izzy’s always been an arsehole,” Mo offers. “Never got to meet Blackbeard though. Can’t believe I’m meeting you, honestly. You’re a legend, man, and only been in the game for… what? A couple of months. Nice little parting gift from the English, this is.”

“Parting gift?” Stede asks.

“Mmm,” Mo hums again. “They were supposed to have hanged me by now, but… well, ‘spose they got distracted trying to capture Blackbeard and his gentleman.”

His gentleman. 

Stede does a happy little shimmy at the warm, fizzy feeling that stirs in him, even if it is accompanied by that ache again.

“Don’t worry,” Stede says resolutely. “I’ve already escaped the English once… oh, twice actually! And the Spanish! We’ll get all this sorted and be out of here before you know it.”

“Bloody incredible,” Mo breathes full of awe. “Would you… I’d like to hear more about how you and Blackbeard met? Some of the stuff you got up to?” he asks a little hesitantly. Perhaps embarrassed to appear so eager, though Stede’s thrilled to have any opportunity to talk about Ed. He takes a deep breath, settles into his ‘storytelling voice’ and begins.

“Well, I’d just been gut stabbed…”

*

“Listen up you filthy dogs!” Ed bellows across the deck.

“Erm, rude,” Lucius’ snarky retort rings out and Ed realises that maybe he’s gone a bit too ‘Blackbeard’ with it all. He’s back in his leathers, armed to the teeth and, yeah, maybe it’s a bit much considering they’re still a fair way out from Barbados. He’d had Buttons set a course right away, as soon as his words had sunk in. 

Stede’s been captured again. 

Stede’s going to be hanged (again).

And Ed is going to make damned sure he’s there to save him.

Again.

“Right,” he tries again, a little more softly. “Here’s the plan then. We should reach Barbados by nightfall. Stede’s being held at the garrison at Charles’ Fort so we’ll anchor up around the peninsula out of sight and use the cover of darkness to row ashore.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Izzy barks.

Ed lets his eyes fall closed for just one, deep, grounding breath. “What’s that Iz?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you risk it all for that twat,” Izzy growls, stepping closer, chin tipped in an attempt to get his face in close to Ed’s.

“‘Letting me’?” Ed purrs in his most threatening voice. Not the rough, shouty rasp that Izzy favours but a soft, slow rumble that could almost be mistaken for affection. “I’m Blackbeard, mate. I can do anything.” 

Izzy scoffs. “Oh, you want to be Blackbeard again now? Well Blackbeard would never risk it all for some useless ponce.”

Ed feels his face transform into a snarl. He can hear the crew raising protests of their own but it’s distant, buried beneath the buzzing in his ears. He steps in, intending to… well, he’s not thought that far ahead, but somehow Buttons gets there first. The bird guy’s face appears in Ed’s periphery, leaning in and, bewilderingly, licking a long wet stripe up the side of Izzy’s face.

“What the fuck?!” Izzy squawks, wiping frantically at his cheek. And yeah, Ed kinda agrees but the crew are kinda cheering and Buttons is looking pretty pleased with himself.

“I did nae have me fangs,” he grins. “But tha’ usually does the job.”

Ed’s trying not to laugh, pretty unsuccessfully, but Izzy’s turning purple with rage and reaching for his sword. Ed reaches for a weapon too but he’s strapped on so many his hands fumble around the handles. But then Wee John’s there, stepping up behind Izzy and wrapping both arms around him in a big tight bear hug. Izzy’s arms are pinned to his sides and he’s practically being lifted off the floor, feet kicking a little helplessly as he looks for purchase.

“Unhand me, you twat!” Izzy’s roaring but Wee John looks entirely unbothered.

“What shall I do with him, Captain?” Wee John asks casually. “Throw him overboard? Pin him to the mast? Light him on fire?”

Ed’s still trying not to laugh. “Maybe let’s just lock him in the hold, for now, yeah?”

Wee John looks disappointed, but shuffles off across the deck with Izzy clutched to his chest like a kid throwing a tantrum. He’s still howling with rage but as they pass the rest of the crew each one leans in and Wee John holds Izzy still so they can bestow their own brand of ‘torture’. Jim flicks him hard in the ear. Roach ruffles his hair like a dog. Lucius presses a kiss to his cheek and gives him a patronising little pat.

Ed just watches on, baffled and thinking, not for the first time, that he actually really fucking likes this bunch of weird-ass pirates. Not as much as he likes their captain, but he definitely wouldn’t trade them for Blackbeard’s usual gruff, leather-clad crew again.

“Ok,” he announces once Izzy’s shouts have faded down below deck. “So, the plan…”

*

If there had ever been any novelty in being imprisoned for crimes of piracy it has long since disappeared by the next morning. Between the hard, wooden cot with its threadbare (scratchy) blanket, and Mo’s rattling snores, Stede had hardly slept a wink. His eyes feel so hot and achy with tiredness, that when the door opens midmorning, allowing a burst of bright sunlight in, Stede physically recoils. He might even hiss a little bit.

Officer Hornberry’s voice reaches him long before Stede’s eyes have adjusted to reveal the shape of him. 

“Sorry, old chum!” he says, keeping his voice low as though perhaps he’s not supposed to be here. “Brought you some breakfast. Best to keep your strength up. Just in case, you know.” 

If Stede weren’t so entirely exhausted that might have stirred a little hope in him. Instead, he’s realising that he’s never actually had to plan an escape before. They’ve just sort of happened around him. He’s got by so far on a combination of Ed’s skills and his own dumb luck, and he can’t help but wonder now, whether his luck might’ve finally run out.

Hornberry slides through a tray with a humble offering of bread, meat and cheese, though he’s clearly tried to make some effort with the presentation. There’s a few segments of orange that Hornberry’s attempted to arrange to look like some kind of flower.

“This is lovely, thank you,” Stede tells him, his polite reflexes running on autopilot. As he carries the tray back to his ‘bed’ though his eyes land on Mo through the bars. “Is… um. Is there another tray on the way for my fellow inmate?” he asks, turning back to Hornberry.

“Oh.” Hornberry says, suddenly sheepish. “No, er… I don’t think so,” he adds apologetically and it is incredibly dark but Stede could swear he’s blushing.

“Not to worry!” he chirps, suddenly desperate to smooth over whatever this uncomfortableness is that’s happening. “Plenty here to go around.” He scoops up some of the meat and cheese, and tears the bread roll in half before passing it through the bars. Mo, for his part, tries to wave Stede off. Makes some grumbling noises about how there’s ‘no need’ and ‘he’ll be dead soon anyway’, but Stede doesn’t relent until he’s accepted half the meal.

Hornberry looks a bit put out by Stede’s insistence on sharing but he doesn’t say anything, just watches on as the two pirates tuck into their meagre breakfasts. 

It’s all a little stale, and a little dry, and Stede would probably give his left arm at this point for a decent cup of tea, and some marmalade, but he does feel marginally better with some food in his stomach. Once he’s finished he slides the tray back through to Hornberry who is shifting a little nervously from foot to foot now.

“I’ve, er… I’m afraid I’ve got some rather bad news,” he explains. “Well, perhaps it’s good news. I suppose it depends how you look at it.”

“And this news is…?” Stede interrupts.

“Right, well, I’m afraid your execution has been scheduled for sundown.”

Stede’s understandably momentarily thrown by this. Execution? What?!

“I’m sorry,” he says and knows he’s slipped into his ‘bitchiest’ tone. “How on earth is that good news?”

“Oh, well, yes. It’s not. Really,” Hornberry stammers. “It’s only that it was supposed to take place this morning, but Captain Badminton’s father wanted to be present, you see, and he couldn’t be here until later today. So you’ve basically gained an extra day!” He finishes, rather more cheerfully than the situation warrants Stede thinks. 

“I see,” he manages to get out around the sudden panic that’s surging through him, tightening his throat, sending his heart racing. He stumbles back, flopping down on the hard wooden bed.

“So you’ve got a little extra time, you see,” Hornberry adds, insistently positive, though darting a suspicious glance at Mo before turning back to Stede. “To… you know? I expect you’ve got some sort of daring plan.”

“Right. Yes. Of course,” Stede mutters though, of course, he’s got absolutely nothing.

“Excellent,” Hornberry declares, beaming at Stede and apparently oblivious to the crushing despair that’s washed over him. “Well, I better let you… I mean, I’ve got duties to attend to.”

He starts striding back up the passageway towards the door, though pauses with his hand gripping the handle to turn back once more.

“Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Your… er, wife has requested a visitation. Is that… would you like to see her?”

Mary. God, yes. Mary will know what to do, Stede hopes.

“Yes, please,” he practically squeaks. “That’d be lovely, thanks.”

“Oh,” Hornberry replies, and Stede might be in the midst of a crisis but he definitely sounds disappointed now. “Of course. I’ll arrange a visitation for this afternoon.”

There’s another burst of blinding light and then Hornberry is gone, leaving Stede to flop back on the wooden bench and spiral. He barely even hears Mo’s disbelieving “Wife?!”

*

“Stede?” Mary’s voice calls out through the gloom later that afternoon. Stede’s too busy squinting from the sudden bright light again to see her yet but he hears the shuffle of multiple feet on the grimy stone floor.

“I’m here!” he calls out eagerly, dashing to the bars of the cell as three figures take shape before him. There’s Mary, of course, and behind her, carrying a lantern, Doug. Bringing up the rear is Hornberry again, looking a little sulky. “Mary, thank goodness. I don’t know what to do!”

“What?!” Hornberry blurts. “You mean you haven’t got an escape plan?”

“Not currently, no!” Stede snaps and Hornberry blanches.

“Good lord. I thought…” Hornberry babbles. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why? What would you have done?” Mary cuts in looking like she’s already had quite enough of all this, thank you. “Let him go?”

“Well… I -” Hornberry stammers. “I can’t just… you’d never make it out of the garrison anyway. It’s far too heavily guarded.”

“Right, so let’s all just calm down a bit and explore our options,” she offers reasonably.

“Good idea, love,” Doug says.

“You do realise,” Hornberry starts hesitantly. “If you escape again the Navy isn't going to rest until they’ve got you. And, I fear next time there won’t be any opportunity to get away. They, that is to say, my superiors, won’t allow for it. It’ll be a firing squad, assuming you’re not, erm, killed during the capture.”

Stede sighs. “God, he’s right. They’re just going to keep coming for me if they know I’m alive.”

“So we need to make sure they think they’ve got you,” Mary states, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. When Stede just sorts of flaps in her direction, completely at a loss she sighs an exasperated sigh and continues. “Look, my friend Evelyn’s son is responsible for collecting the… er, corpses from the executions here. He could get you out that way.”

“Right, yes. Just one problem there, dear,” Stede explains, his voice raising in panic again as he goes on. “I can’t survive a bloody hanging, Mary!”

“Alright!” Mary snaps back. “I’m just trying to help!”

Stede is sure Mo is chuckling at these histrionics. Even thinks he hears him mutter something about ‘a woman scorned’, whatever that’s supposed to mean.

“Okay, okay,” Doug says soothingly. Stede bristles a little at the tone, as though Doug is trying to placate the children! “Maybe there’s a way Stede could hide? Then when Melvin comes to collect the body he can smuggle Stede out on the cart with the others?”

“What body, Doug!?” Stede screeches. “Who are they going to hang?”

There’s a moment of ringing silence, during which everyone seems to be desperately searching for an answer, until Mo pipes up.

“Me,” he states simply. “I’ll do it.”

“What? No. I’m sorry. Absolutely not. I can’t allow it,” Stede protests, because there’s no way he’s letting a fellow pirate offer up his life for Stede’s.

“Come on, mate,” Mo says easily. “They’re gonna hang me anyway. ‘S just getting it over with a bit quicker, that’s all. I’ve had a good run, and it’s not like I’ve got anyone waiting for me. You’ve got all this,” he gestures at Mary and Doug, even Hornberry. “And Blackbeard too. Gotta get back to him. Honestly, it’d be my pleasure to pull the wool over the English’s eyes one more time. No offence,” he adds to Hornberry as a bit of an afterthought.

“None taken,” Hornberry mutters, blinking in shock and looking at Mo now like he’s some kind of wonderful apparition.

“God, I - I don’t know what to say,” Stede stammers. He’s a bit overcome frankly. 

“There’s nothing to say, mate. Just switch cells with me.”

*

The sun’s making her final descent when The Revenge finally drops anchor off the coast of Barbados. They’re cutting things fine, Ed was hoping to be ashore by now and he can feel the anxiety that he’ll be too late creeping over him. He knows the crew are feeling it too, is half aware of them flitting about behind him on deck, making their own preparations. 

And yeah, he can feel the crew’s eyes on him too. Has heard their muttering, especially Lucius - that boy clearly has no survival instincts at all because he absolutely does not trouble to keep his voice low when he’s making his bitchy little comments about Ed’s questionable sanity. Because, alright, maybe the beard had been a mistake, but Ed had been hiding out in the auxiliary wardrobe, definitely just psyching himself up and not freaking out, when he’d caught sight of himself in Stede’s big fancy mirror. He’d seen his stupid naked chin and had the sudden thought that he definitely needed to be Blackbeard for this. That he wanted the English to recognise him. To quake in their boots at the sight of him and scarper so he could get to Stede and get him out of there as quickly as possible.

And of course he’d kept the clippings. Of course he fucking had!

So, he’d rummaged through Stede’s things, running his hands over all Stede’s fine fabrics until he’d found what he needed. A pair of stockings, tucked away at the back of a drawer, clearly awaiting repair. Ed had taken the one that was the worst off and got to work.

The silk is cool and soft against his face now, even with the prickly hair sticking through and sticky bits of glue. The holes he cut to hook it over his ears are a too tight and maybe it’s a little patchy in places, so yeah, the crew are certainly giving him looks. Except Pete, who seems to be under the illusion that Blackbeard has the capability to grow a full beard overnight. He’d exhaled an astonished ‘wooow’ whilst everyone else had been raising their eyebrows at Ed.

It seems like everyone is finally gathered, ready to go, so Ed turns to face the crew.

“Look,” he starts. “The garrison is going to be heavily guarded, fucking crawling with English, so I’m not asking anyone to come who’d rather not risk it.”

To their credit, or maybe Stede’s, not one of them falters. No-one moves, just continues to watch and wait, expectantly.

“Ok,” Ed can’t help but grin - they probably can’t see it under the fake beard anyway. “Let’s go get our captain back!”

There’s a roaring cheer from the crew and they start to pile into the dinghy. They’re not actually all coming. Lucius is staying back, and obviously Izzy is still locked away below deck somewhere. Ed leaves Olu behind as well, temporarily in charge, if only because he seems like the most level headed and capable of the bunch.

Fang and Ivan make short work of rowing them to shore, probably have the relentless pace Izzy usually barks out ingrained in them by now. The minute they’re close enough Ed’s leaping out of the boat, splashing his way up the beach, the excess of weapons he’s still got strapped to his body clanging and clanking as he goes.

His panic only seems to increase with every step he takes closer to Stede. Every stumble in the soft sand feels like the one that will tip him over into ‘too late’. The rest of the crew must be following in his wake but Ed doesn’t wait. He tears across the sand, doing his best to ignore the sharp pain in his knee at the uneven surface, until he reaches the garrison where it’s perched on the very tip of the short peninsula.

The boundary wall is low here, where it meets the beach. Just a little too high for Ed to reach. And the whole thing is lined with canons, obviously, but the English are stupid and the only man they have on this side is facing inwards, towards the action, not outwards, watching for would-be attackers. 

Black Pete’s the first to catch up with Ed and drops to his knees, hands clasped to give Ed the boost he needs to grab hold of the top of the wall and scramble up. He’s up and over in no time. Sliding the blade of his dagger across the English guy’s throat before he even knows Ed’s there. Ed’s already taken in the scene before him before the bloke hits the floor.

There’s English everywhere, as expected, but they’re scattered across the plaza, no dense crowd to fight through. There is a small crowd of regular folk gathered, come to fuckin’ watch Stede swing like its a jolly day out and Ed’s more than happy to cut them all down for that. Because, fuck, there’s Stede, standing on a stool up on the platform, a fucking hood pulled down over his beautiful face and, oh god, a little bunch of flowers clutched in his hands. Fuck, Ed loves him so fucking much. But there’s an English bloke securing the noose around his neck even as Ed watches.

He pulls out his pistol, takes aim at the guy up in the watchtower thingy and fires off a shot that echoes around the space. The guy slumps forward over the edge of the tower to a chorus of screams from the spectators. The gunshot also kicks the rest of the guards into action, but the rest of the crew are spilling over the wall around him and Ed’s vision is focused on Stede. On the fucking guy beside him, looking around in panic for instruction. Finding none, he turns and kicks out the stool from beneath Stede’s feet.

*

Stede has been stuck down here for hours now, lying in god knows what, breathing in the same recycled stench under the hessian Hornberry covered him with earlier, so it’s quite the relief when things actually seem to start happening. Even if what is happening is gunshots and screams and audible pandemonium. 

He’d actually been lulled into a sense of temporary security (and significant boredom) in the past hours but now his heart rate rockets again, beating out a frantic rhythm in the base of his throat. The problem is that he doesn’t know what’s going on. And he’s not entirely sure it’s wise to peek and potentially reveal himself. All he can really do is listen and try to decipher the sounds around him.

There’s a thud and a grunt from above, and Stede’s heart does a little twist at the thought of Mo up there, standing in his place. There’s not much time to dwell on it though before there are footsteps thundering down the wooden steps of the platform - the hangman must be rushing to join… whatever it is that’s causing all the shouting and shrieking. 

Right, no. It’s no good. Stede’s going to have to look.

He tries to move as little as possible as he squirms to get a hand to the edge of the fabric covering him. Very, very slowly he eases the cloth up to allow one eye to see out.

Stede is immediately, and viscerally transported to the moment he and Ed met for the first time. Chaos, smoke, blood spray. And through it all, Ed. He’s not sauntering through the smog this time - maybe he wasn’t last time either, but that’s certainly how Stede remembers it. No, this time Stede is in absolutely no doubt that it’s Blackbeard he’s seeing. He’s magnificent. Beautiful. Sword slashing, hair fanning around him as he spins to cut through the crowd. 

People scatter before him. Stede spots the vile Badminton father amidst the crowd. He stumbles forward, bald pate shining silver in the moonlight. He’s trying to reach safety behind the English soldiers and get out of the thick of the fighting. Somehow though, he manages to trip over his own feet (probably those horrendously outdated shoes he’s wearing). The next thing Stede knows, Badminton Senior is plummeting to the ground, apparently having stepped directly between Wellington’s pistol and Ed. Wellington immediately descends into panic - he looks around frantically, clearly wondering if anyone saw his faux pas or whether he can blame the old man’s death on the pirate crew.

“STEDE!” Ed bellows as he kicks a flailing Englishman out of his way, no knowledge of how close to death he just came.

Gosh, he really is just so radiant.

“Stede!” Ed cries again as he charges towards him, clattering up the steps. “Fuck, Stede. Hang on. I’m here. I’m here.”

There’s another loud thud, something dropping heavily to the platform, and Stede doesn’t need to be able to see what’s happening to feel the ache of it in his own knees. Lord knows how Ed’s already achy one will have coped with that.

“Stede, please. Oh fuck. No. No no no no no. Stede!”

The whole platform is shaking with whatever it is Ed is doing up there. 

“Ed!” he sort of whisper-shouts, although it does seem like the rest of the crew are succeeding in overwhelming the English anyway. He probably doesn’t need to be quite so discreet. 

“Please love,” Ed’s wailing. Stede’s not sure he’s ever heard him sound quite so… desperate. Not even that night in the bath tub when he’d been so sad. So vulnerable. No, this is far beyond that. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Ed!” Stede tries a little louder, voice a bit hoarse from hours of disuse (and the awful stench down here). Ed’s audible despair is breaking his heart. “Ed, I’m here!”

“Fuck,” Ed sobs. “It’s like I can still hear your voice.”

“Ed!” Stede tuts this time, because really?! He lifts his hessian cover fully now, pulling it back off his head in the hope that he might be able to catch a glimpse of Ed through the gaps in the boards. All he can see though is the bloody blade of Ed’s cutlass dripping over the edge of the platform. “I’m down here, Ed!”

“What? No. No, shit. I thought… Fuck Stede. I thought you were meant to… You were so good.”

“Edward!” Stede says, a little bitchy now because frankly Ed’s being ridiculous.

“It’s alright,” Ed mutters, the sounds of movement thudding through the base of the platform again. “You don’t have to face this alone. I’m coming, love. I’m coming. I’m… fuck… let me just…”

“Ed, what are you doing?”

“I’m just… fucksake… my hands are all shaky and slippy. Can’t grip my fucking knife…”

“Ed! No!”

“Dickfuck,” Ed snaps and there’s the sound of metal clattering against wood before his familiar dagger falls from the edge of the platform, landing in the dirt right in front of Stede’s face.

Stede snakes out a hand to grab it just as Ed’s boots hit the ground beside it.

“What the fuck?” Ed mutters before squatting down to peer under. The crunch from his knee is audible, even above the remaining chaos and they both wince at the sound. “Stede?” Ed breathes, eyes huge and shining.

“I did try to tell you,” Stede pouts prissily.

“You’re…” Ed flicks a confused glance up above the platform, before returning to Stede. “You’re alright?”

“Well, I’ve been better honestly,” Stede snarks. “It’s rank under here.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, let’s get you out of there.”

Ed springs into action, reaching out for Stede’s hands and tugging gently as Stede’s feet scrabble for purchase in the filth under the platform to push himself free. Stede staggers to his feet, stumbling right into Ed who has to move quickly to wrap an arm around his waist to steady the both of them. And suddenly Stede’s a little overwhelmed because, against all hope, Ed is there, chest pressed to Stede’s, arms around him, holding him close.

“Hi,” Stede breathes, knows there’s a silly lovesick grin on his face but can’t quite bring himself to care.

“Hey,” Ed grins back.

“Wait, what happened to your face?” Stede asks suddenly because it’s only just occurring to him, now that he’s seeing Ed up close like this (so close), that Ed’s beard is… back? Or… well, not really but…

“Oh. Yeah,” Ed grumbles, looking a bit sheepish now. “Thought I better look the part, y’know.” He lowers his voice into a growl that seems to rumble right through Stede. “Dread pirate Blackbeard, come to steal you back from the hands of the English.”

“Oh,” Stede exhales all trembly, warmth pooling in his tummy. He lets his fingers curl into the leather of Ed’s jacket, pulling himself closer. As close as he can get.

“‘S that alright?” Ed mutters, leaning in closer himself so that the beard clippings (gluey and disarrayed as they might be) catch in the stubble on Stede’s own chin.

“Yes,” Stede breathes. And, god, he thinks it’s going to happen. Ed’s going to kiss him again. He can feel the warmth of Ed’s breath on his lips. The memory of the press of Ed’s lips is almost real once more.

“Get out of the way! Move!” Someone shouts, barrelling past them and knocking them apart. Stede turns ready to give them a piece of his mind, to see Hornberry clattering up onto the platform, knife in hand.

Oh yes. Right. Of course. Mo.

Stede trots up the steps just in time to help catch and lower Mo to the ground as Hornberry cuts him loose. Hornberry pulls the sack free of Mo’s head and starts slapping his cheeks. 

“Oooh, wake up, wake up. Please…” Hornberry whines.

“Erm…” Stede hedges. “Sorry, but I think it might be too late for that.”

“No. No. It takes some time, you see, unless there’s a longer drop…”

“He’s right,” Ed chips in from where he’s standing behind Stede. “Seen blokes walk away from the noose before. Might just be unconscious.” 

“Come onnnnn,” Horberry pleads and then, miraculously, with one final tap on the cheek, Mo groans and his eyes flutter open. “Oh thank goodness.” Hornberry sighs with relief.

“‘M I dead?” Mo croaks, gazing up at Hornberry.

“No, you incredibly brave idiot. You’re not dead.”

“Ah, thought I might be,” Mo rasps. “On account of the angel watching over me.”

Hornberry’s face blooms the colour of a ripe plum and he stammers incomprehensibly.

“Er, babe,” Ed asks quietly. “What the fuck is going on?”

*

Ed’s standing at the rail, watching the way the moonlight dances across the waves and trying not to relive that other night under the moon. All the hope and anticipation that had been clenching his insides. And he’s definitely not feeling some of that again now… nope. No he’s not.

Stede’s below deck somewhere. He’d insisted on showing that Mo bloke and the English guy to a ‘guest room’ - god, Ed loves him so much. He’d explained how Mo had been destined for the noose too. Had offered to stand in for Stede and, with Hornberry’s help, had planned a whole fuckery to help Stede escape. So, yeah, Ed can’t really resent them the special treatment.

But, then Stede had insisted he needed a bath, even though Ed’s spent more than half his life on ships and had smelt way worse than Stede’s two-day prison stink. And Ed had felt a bit out of place just hanging out in the cabin whilst Stede was peeling off his clothes on the other side of the wall, so he’d come out here. Because they’ve not really had a chance to talk, is the thing. And Ed isn’t stupid, he saw the way that Stede was looking at him back there. But Stede didn’t not look at him like that before, and he still left, didn’t he?

Ed’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t hear when Stede finally approaches. Was probably half listening for the click of his heels on the deck but that doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t get fully dressed again after his bath. Instead it’s the warm cloud of lavender scent that announces his arrival.

“There you are,” Stede says, and Ed can already hear the smile in his voice. He turns to see it for himself and, fuck, the moonlight is painting him in gold and silver. A finer treasure than Blackbeard’s ever stolen. He’s got that soft pink bird robe on that Ed had almost worn to death while Stede was gone, and his long frilly nightie - fuck, Ed loves him so fucking much. 

Stede’s feet are bare against the deck and somehow it’s that image that cuts through everything else. Is so intimate, so vulnerable that Ed feels like maybe he can be vulnerable too. Or he can try anyway, one more time at least. He offers Stede a small, tentative smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Nice bath?”

“Mmm, much better, thank you.” Stede’s skin is all glowy and freshly scrubbed and his hair is still a little damp at the ends where it’s curling and sticking to his neck.

“You shaved,” Ed says, only now realising that the tantalising scruff that had coated his jaw before is gone.

“So did you,” Stede grins, nodding towards Ed’s own chin, because yeah, Ed had tugged off his stupid fake beard and stashed it away in a drawer of the desk. He rubs at his face self-consciously. “Do you think you’ll grow it back?” Stede asks and there’s no judgement in it, no expectation, just plain old curiosity.

“Dunno,” Ed murmurs. “Think I should?” Because he would, for Stede. If he asked him too.

Stede hums stepping closer. “If you like,” he says softly, and then he lifts his hand and scritches his nails through the stubble on Ed’s jaw. “It’s nice like this too,” he murmurs. “Can see more of your beautiful face.”

Ed catches his whimper before it escapes. Turns his face into Stede’s palm to hide it.

“Ed, I -” Stede starts, all breathy and shit, before Ed cuts him off.

“You left me,” he blurts out. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat before adding “I waited for you.”

“Oh Ed,” Stede sighs, dropping his hand back to his side. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put into words just how sorry I am for that. It might be the single biggest regret of my life.”

“Yeah?” Ed squeaks, and knows his eyes are all big and wet where he’s looking up at Stede through his lashes.

“Yes,” Stede says decisively. “You see, I’m rather desperately in love with you Ed.”

“What?” Ed gasps.

“I’m just sorry that it took me such a long time to understand it.”

“Fuck Stede…” Ed mumbles, can barely get words out past the sudden rabbiting of his heart. “You can’t just…”

“Of course, if you don’t…” Stede interrupts, suddenly faltering and pulling back like he’s misread this whole thing. “That is to say…”

“Stede,” Ed jumps in, curling his fingers into the front of that robe to hold Stede close. “Course I love you, you fucking lunatic!”

“Oh!” Stede’s beautiful hazel eyes widen in something like surprise, delight maybe. “Well that’s…” He flutters his lashes a bit, like he can’t quite believe it. “Really?”

“Mate….” Ed looks at him flatly.

“Well, in that case,” Stede squares his shoulders, seems to steel himself. “I’d really like to try that kiss again, if it’s alright with you?”

“Mmm,” Ed’s cheeks ache a bit from grinning. “Go for it, love.” 

Yeah, Ed could help him out here. Sure. Could take the lead a bit. He knows this is pretty new for Stede. But he also really kinda wants to see what Stede’s got. And… oh boy. 

Stede nods, more to himself really, then steps in closer. Pulls Ed in with a hand at the small of his back and presses his body right up against Ed’s, the heat and solid breadth of that chest just fucking, right there. His other hand finds Ed’s face again, fingers combing through his short beard before tucking in behind his ear, threading into his hair as he tilts Ed’s head just where he wants him. And then he’s fucking going for it. Lips crushed against Ed’s, hungry and wanting and they’re both moaning a bit whorishly about it.

Stede’s fingers wind deeper, clutching at Ed’s hair as he clings to him. And Ed’s got a bit of a death grip going on Stede’s robe so he gets it. Thinks if he lets go now they might both be in danger of getting swept away. Instead he tests the waters. Swipes the tip of his tongue along the seam of Stede’s lips and then Stede’s breaking away gasping.

“God Ed,” he pants.

“Yep,” Ed nods, nose bumping against Stede’s. “Seconded.”

They stand that way for a long minute, foreheads pressed together as they both catch their breath. Eventually Stede pulls back a little, just enough so that Ed can see his face properly as he smooths back a loose wave, tucking it behind Ed’s ear. His gaze dips to Ed’s mouth once more as he moves to brush his thumb across Ed’s bottom lip.

“Time for bed, I think, darling,” Stede murmurs, and even if he hadn’t sort of purred the words right at Ed, with his thumb still on Ed’s lip, then the ‘darling’ would definitely have done it. Ed makes this totally manly noise, that’s nothing like a squeak at all, and nods his head, eyes all huge and lashes fluttery.

“Mmm, love that,” he hums back, pressing a quick kiss to the pad of Stede’s thumb. “Let’s go, babe.”

Stede finally drops his hand. Seeks out Ed’s with it instead and intertwining their fingers. They walk like that back to the cabin - their cabin - holding each other close, both determined never to let go.