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Ed stayed behind in the office a few seconds after Mary left. He looked back out the window at the darkened street, hands on his hips. Mary’s neighbors were hustling to finish their shopping before night truly fell, people weaving their way between carriages and folks on horseback—completely unaware that Blackbeard was amongst them.
Well. The revelations of his conversation with Mary left him feeling distinctly less like Blackbeard, the Kraken, and much more like Ed than he’s felt in months.
Stede left him out of misplaced guilt. Stede loved him. Stede was out there looking for him. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. He felt raw, like his skin had been peeled off—the wall he’d built around himself chiseled away until he was left with nothing but hope.
Fuck, he thought again, shaking his head and leaving the office.
Izzy was waiting outside for him. Ed looked past him and he smiled at the sight of Mary extending the invitation for dinner to Fang and Ivan.
“What the fuck, Edward?” Izzy said, getting into Ed’s space and he frowned—Mary was right. Izzy’s breath was fucking rank. “You hear that bastard Bonnet is alive for two seconds and now you’re part of some simpering ladies’ club? I’m not going to no fucking dinner parties,” he sneered.
Ed breathed deeply, the beginnings of anger sparking at the pit of his stomach (even this felt good—anger that, for the first time in months, didn’t stem from misery and grief). He took another step towards Izzy, forcing him to look straight up to see Ed’s face.
“No, you’re not staying for dinner. Ivan, Fang, and I are.” Ed brushed Izzy’s shoulders. “You weren’t invited.”
Izzy scoffed. “I didn’t realize Blackbeard needed an invitation for anything. Did it come on gold printed paper? Since you want to be all fucking high society and shit.”
“Just go back to the ship, Izzy,” Ed said quietly. He didn’t want to disrupt Mary and her family any more than he already had.
“No, you go back to the fucking ship. We’re all going back—fuck your dinner party. Blackbeard doesn’t do—”
Ed grabbed him by the throat and forced him backwards into the office. He kept pushing until he had Izzy pinned against the desk. Ed’s stomach churned at the glazed look on Izzy’s face.
“You will not tell me again what Blackbeard does or does not do, understand?” Izzy nodded, eyes unfocused. “Good, now get the fuck back to the ship, and think about if you want to stay on my crew—my crew, not whatever fucked up idea you have of me.”
“Yes,” he breathed, and Ed let him go.
Before Izzy could scurry out of the office, Ed said, “And Iz?” When Izzy stopped to look at him, he continued, “Don’t fucking let me see you until morning.”
He listened to Izzy’s uneven steps with his cane trot down the hallway and he rubbed his face, grimacing when they came away blackened with the kohl. He groaned and tried to wipe them off on his black undershirt.
“Everything alright?” Mary asked in the doorway.
Ed, helplessly, held up his hands. “Yeah, yeah, fine. I’m just gonna need to do some extra cleaning up, is all.”
Mary smiled at him. “I see that—I’ll show you were the washroom is,” she said, walking out of the office without waiting for him.
He had to jog a couple steps to catch up, and she led him through her house. He marveled at the fine things that comprised Stede’s life here.
“Seriously, though, Edward—are you sure everything is alright?” she asked on the way. “I didn’t mean to make anything harder for you.”
“No, you didn’t, it’s fine,” he said, and she looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “Really! I sent him back to the ship; he’ll cool off.”
“Well, okay. Offer’s still on the table, if you’re interested.” She opened a door for him and he went inside—it was a simple and tastefully decorated room with a toilet and a washbasin. She pointed to a white, plush towel hanging on the wall. “Feel free to use that to clean up.”
He looked at it and it looked nicer than most things he’d ever touched, and Mary was so noncha-fucking-lant about him using it.
She saw his hesitancy and sighed and the rolled her eyes at him and he nearly sputtered at the sight—no one had rolled their eyes at him in his whole life. Who the fuck were the fucking Bonnets, and where did they get their goddamned audacity?
“Just use the towel, Edward, it can be cleaned afterwards,” she said, and winced when a large crash sounded through the house, voices quickly following. She put a hand on the top of her head with her eyes closed and said, “I’m just going to make sure no one’s bleeding, alright? I’ll send someone to bring you to the dining room.” She quickly turned and left.
Alone, Ed could do nothing but dip his hands into the clear water in the basin, seeing the kohl drip off his hands and swirl in the water. He scrubbed his hands clean before moving onto his face—rubbing the kohl from his cheeks with more vigor than necessary, the pain of it feeling transformative.
He checked himself in the mirror above the basin and saw his face, older and more worn than he remembered being. Thinking on it, Ed hadn’t looked at himself, really looked, since Stede had left him. Was it when he was shaving his beard off after the act of grace?
Ed hung his head over the basin, hidden in the thick curtain of his unkempt hair, and considered the effort it would take to just drown himself in the murky water.
He sighed heavily and pulled the towel from the wall, and he was right, the material felt too exquisite to be used like this. He let himself indulge in the comfort and felt like shit when the rough skin of his hands caught on the fine fabric of the towel. He balled his hands up so the towel wouldn’t touch his palms and pressed them harder against his face.
Small footsteps approached the washroom and Ed reluctantly pulled his face out of the soft towel. Hunched over, he turned his head and saw a young girl outside the door, face curious and hands tucked behind her back.
“Mister Teach? Mother sent me to find you for dinner,” she said.
Ha, Mister Teach. He patted his face with the towel once more before putting it down and kneeling in front of the child—he hoped that she wouldn’t be scared of him if they were on the same level. He wasn’t faced with children often.
“You must be Alma,” he said. “Your father told me about you, and your brother. Tell me, was it you or was it him that made all that ruckus?”
Her eyes widened and she looked politely abashed, and it was a look he’d seen on her father’s face before. The likeness between father and daughter was startling.
“It was me, sir. Your man, Mister Ivan, let me hold his axe and I dropped it,” she confessed, looking downwards and—what? That thing was bigger than she was.
“You dropped it?”
“Really, it fell over because I couldn’t keep it upright, and it landed on a table.”
“And how is the table now?” he asked, barely containing chuckles. She looked so contrite.
“In many more pieces than before,” she said and he couldn’t keep his composure. Ed tilted backwards and laughed, hands on his belly.
When he looked back at her, she had her hands on her little hips and a pout on her face.
“I’m sorry, Miss Bonnet,” he said, sniffling away the last of the laughter. “Everyone’s alright, I hope?”
She crossed her arms. “Mother’s upset with me, but no one’s hurt.”
“Then, no harm done, I’d say.” He stood up and crouched down, holding out his arm. “Now, you were to bring me to dinner?”
She brightened and took it, leading him on. “Did father really tell you about us?”
“Of course, he did.” And he had, although not in depth. Stede had always gotten a faraway look in his eyes when he talked about his family, and Ed had never wanted to press for details. He’d understood the weight of a man’s past.
“Does my father dress like you?” she asked as they were entering the dining room.
Fang, Ivan, and little Louis were already seated at the table, and Mary and her man, Doug, were laying down dishes of food.
Fang and Ivan looked out of place, twin expressions of confusion at his behavior mirrored each other on their faces.
“Ah, yes. He did, once. While we were playing a trick on some Spaniards,” he replied, pulling out a seat for her and pushing her in, like Stede had taught him.
“Stede?” Mary asked. “Stede dressed like that?”
“These very clothes,” he confirmed to Mary’s laughter. Doug joined in, and the kids, and it was infectious; Ed couldn’t help but join and he pointedly ignored the sideways glances Ivan and Fang gave each other.
---
After dinner, Mary walked them to the door. Alma came with them, and Mary said, “Alma, didn’t you want to ask Mister Teach something?”
Ed crouched down and she asked, “Are you going to find my father?”
Ed’s brain short-circuited and he looked up at Mary, who smiled, and at Fang and Ivan, who were pretending very hard to not pay attention.
“I’m going to try,” he said after a pause. “I think there are some things we need to talk about.”
“Could you bring something to him for me?” she asked. “He’s been writing me letters, but I didn’t know where to send mine!”
He quickly looked up at Mary and she gave him a thumbs up.
“Well, alright,” he started, but Alma clapped and ran up the stairs before he could say anything else.
“Thank you,” Mary said, stepping to stand next to him. She pulled a couple envelops out of her pocket as well and handed it to him. “I have a few of my own, if you wouldn’t mind taking them as well. One I wrote with Louis; he can hardly sit still long enough to write one on his own.”
He took them from her and let his fingers drift across the fine paper. “I’ll see them delivered safe; I promise.”
“I know you will,” she responded. “And, I want you to have this as well.” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked, not bothering to open it and try and decipher the writing.
“Contact information, for my friend Evelyn. In case you change your mind about the offer. She’s very well connected,” she explained, winking as Alma returned. The girl had a hefty stack of letters that she proudly handed to him, and he tucked the bundle into his jacket.
“Thank you, Mister Teach!” Alma said before running off again. She called back, “See you at Easter!”
“Easter?” he asked Mary. It was just past the new year; Easter wasn’t for months.
She laughed. “We have a nice Easter dinner here every year. You’re invited, of course.”
“Of course,” he repeated quietly to himself. “You do remember that I broke into your house and held you hostage, like, six hours ago, yes?”
“You know, I’d forgotten,” she replied, deadpan.
“Mary.”
“Edward, please. You’re invited to Easter, if you’d like. Although, I won’t be happy to take a no for an answer. Your men are invited to come back, too. They were delightful,” she added, waving at Fang and Ivan outside of the door. They straightened and waved back.
This was all too much, too unbelievable. He’d woken up that morning, face coated with tears and smelling like latrine and now he was arranging plans for a formal Eater dinner. He wanted to pinch himself, to see if he was dreaming—not that he allowed himself to dream. He typically drank himself into an oblivion to avoid it.
“I’ll make sure we’re better dressed next time, then,” he said tentatively, instead of giving a formal acceptance.
She scoffed and shoved lightly at his shoulder. Ed stared at where she pushed him, incredulous. “Edward, it’s fine. Really; dress however you like. We only dress up for guests.”
“We’re not guests?”
“Well, no,” she said and then leaned into his space to speak more quietly. “Listen, forgive the informality, but, like it or not, you are the person my husband chose to be with. We don’t dress up when Doug comes to visit, and we won’t when you do, either.”
His face contorted and he managed out a thank you before bolting out of the house, not bothering to check if Fang and Ivan were following.
He walked briskly in the night air, one hand on the pad of envelops in his jacket and the other resting on the handle of his gun—fuck, he brought a gun into the house where Stede’s children lived. Little Alma ended up playing with an axe! She could’ve died.
Quiet whispers from behind him interrupted his thoughts and he stopped quickly, turning on his heel.
Ivan and Fang only just managed to stop in front of him before they all impacted, their eyes wide at being caught.
“If you have something to say, say it,” he said.
“No, no, we’re good, boss,” Ivan said, waving his hands in front of him.
“No, guys, please,” he replied, putting one hand on each of their shoulder’s quickly before stepping back. He utilized that maneuver with a couple of sailors last week before he had them keelhauled so, maybe, it wouldn’t have the intended calming effect.
“Really, it’s fine,” Fang said, and Ed was done.
“Tell me,” he said, not asked.
The guys winced and Ivan took a deep breath. “We just—are we going back to the way it used to be?”
“What do you mean?” Ed knew what they meant.
“We’re loyal to you, Captain, one hundred percent, but…” Ivan trailed off.
“But?”
“But,” Fang picked up. “It was nice, before, when we were all together on the Revenge.”
Ed narrowed his eyes at them, and didn’t say anything; honestly fucking embarrassed. Another fucking thing that was kept from him because of Blackbeard. If someone other than goddamned Izzy had tried talking some sense into him, then maybe—but, no, someone had.
He grimaced. “I don’t know if we can go back, exactly. Or, I don’t know if I can,” he said. “Lucius is dead, because of me, and that’s something I’ll have to contend with. But, I’d like to try.”
Both of their mouths flattened into straight lines and they looked at each other through the corner of their eyes.
“What?”
---
“Cabrones, what the fuck are you thinking?” Jim asked in a hushed whisper inside the jam room. Ed waited outside, leaning against the wall—if he wanted to get back on the crew’s good side (and live long enough to try it), Jim was the one he needed to keep some distance from.
“No, listen, we think it’ll be okay,” Fang tried.
“No, you fucking listen,” they responded. “He’s one bad day from totally losing his shit and I, being honest, want to be able to get off this ship before that fucking happens.”
Ah, so Jim was planning on leaving; good for them. Ed was surprised they hadn’t left already, but he supposed that they haven’t stopped at many pirate-friendly ports in the last few months.
“And this morning, I’d have agreed with you,” Fang said. “But we had dinner with Captain Bonnet’s wife and she said that he’s still alive.”
“Totally changed him,” Ivan added.
“Fucking doubt it,” Jim said.
“Yeah, mates, I’m glad to hear that Bonnet’s alive, but I think I agree with Jim here,” Frenchie said. “He only thought that Bonnet’d been dead what? A few days? He’s been like this for months.”
“If you think we can fucking trust him with—“ Jim started, and yeah, Ed couldn’t let this go on.
He knocked on the wall and called into the room, “You guys know that I can hear every word you’re saying, right?”
Silence.
“How much do you mean by every word?” Frenchie asked.
“Ah, like, all of it.”
“Fuck,” Jim hissed.
Ed entered the room, hands up and away from any of his weapons—he didn’t even resist when Jim pulled a knife on him.
“Allow me to explain for myself,” Ed asked, and Jim’s gaze flickered to Frenchie, who shrugged.
“It’d better be fucking good,” they said.
“I’m sorry, for marooning the crew,” he said and Jim scoffed. “No, I mean it! I am! It was pretty fucking close to a main island so I didn’t think it would kill them—but, it was definitely still a major dick move.”
“Anything else?” they asked, pushing the tip of the knife against his throat.
“Yeah,” he said, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry for Lucius—he didn’t deserve what I did to him. And when we find the others—” when, not if, “—you and Black Pete can fight over who wants to kill me.”
“Well!” a voice came through the walls. “That’s more than good enough for me.” A panel in the wall opened and Lucius came sauntering out—dirtier, thinner, paler than before, but fucking alive.
A laugh burst out of Ed and he batted the knife away from his neck and pulled Lucius in for a hug. Fuck, he smelled horrible.
Ed shook him a few times. “You’re alive! You’re fucking alive!”
“Yes, yes, hoorays all around,” Lucius said, patting him on the shoulder. “I think my constitution is still a little to delicate for the shaking, though, so—” Ed let him go. “—yes, thank you.”
“I don’t understand—have you been living in the walls?” he asked.
“Oh, well. Yeah. Stede built these passages all over the place.”
He turned to the rest of them. “And you’ve been keeping this from me?”
“We weren’t going to let you, or your perro salvaje, try and kill him again,” Jim said, putting the knife away and looking unhappy about it.
“Are we really going to look for the others?” Frenchie asked.
“We’re going to try,” Ed responded. “I gave Izzy until morning to decide if he wants to fall in line or get the fuck off this ship, so we’ll set sail at first light.”
Ed felt Jim appraise him, and they must have seen something decent in him, because they sighed and said, “Fine, but if I see you putting on so much as a little eyeliner, I’m fucking out.”
“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand for Jim to shake. They took it as Lucius said, “I’m taking your bed until we get Stede back; let me have that and I’ll forgive you. I’d kill to sleep in a real bed.”
Ed laughed, and held out his other hand for Lucius to shake.
---
They sailed for the Republic of Pirates the next morning, with Izzy still on board—quiet, sulking, but present. He did what he was told and didn't have a word to say when he saw Lucius alive, just stalked down below decks, muttering to himself. Ed laughed at the way Lucius strutted around the ship afterwards.
Each mile they got closer to the Republic lifted Ed's spirit more and more, and he was nearing being unable to settle by the time they docked, days later.
"Stay here with the ship!" he called to everyone else, hopping off the ship the second the rope ladder hung over the dock. One of the others can handle paying their fee, or not—he, frankly, couldn't have given less of a shit in the moment.
He stalked down the dock, boots thundering against the wooden planks, and let the sight of Blackbeard in his studded leathers part the way for him; pirates flung themselves to the side to avoid colliding with him.
Even if Stede was at the Republic (and really, what were the chances of that?), he was still banned from Spanish Jackie's. She was still the best source of information, and she owed him a fucking favor.
He walked through the door and was assaulted by the noises and smells of the dive, and Jackie herself called his name to get his attention.
She waved him over from her corner table. He didn't sit when she gestured for him to do so, instead leaning back on one foot, one hand resting on his gun and the other sliding into a pocket.
"Motherfucking Blackbeard," she said, shrugging and leaning back. She took a long drag of the cigarette she had propped up in her wooden hand. "What the fuck brings you here?"
"Information, Jackie."
"And what makes you think that I have anything for you?"
He leaned over, planting his hands on the table top. "Because you sold me out to the British," he hissed.
"Well, shit, alright. You got me there," she said. "What do you want to know?"
"I want to know where Stede Bonnet is," he said, and she scoffed.
"Six feet under, last I heard."
"Hmm, maybe so, but maybe there's someone about his height and description, sailing around with his crew? Anything like that sound familiar?" It was a long shot, but he was hopeful they'd all found each other again.
Jackie looked between him and the bar in rapid succession until she said, "Yeah, no. I do not want to be involved in this."
"You owe me, Jackie," he said.
"And you can figure out some other way to even us out, because I am not touching any of this with a ten-and-a-half-foot pole. Ask him," she said and she gestured to a man hunched over the bar, a cap on his head.
Oluwande turned to face them. "Bein' honest, Jackie, I don't particularly want to touch this, either," he said, and Ed's face broke out into a grin.
"Oluwande! You're alright!" he said, leaving Jackie and approaching him at the bar.
"Nah, don't give me any of that, mate, I don't give a shit if you're Blackbeard or if you're Ed right now," Oluwande said.
"No, no, that's fair. I respect that," Ed said.
"Yeah?" Oluwande responded, skeptical.
"Look, I know I have a lot to do to make up for what I did—wait, is everyone else alright?"
"Yeah, man. We all got off that tiny island you marooned us on."
"Good, good. Like I was saying," he continued, a hand on Olu's shoulder, "I have a lot to do to even begin earning your trust again, but I want to try."
Oluwande looked at him with eyebrow raised and, yeah, still fair.
"Alright."
"Just—just tell me: is Stede here?"
Oluwande shrugged non-committedly. "Maybe."
Ed sighed, rubbing a hand on his face and scratching at his beard.
"Well, hypothetically, if he were here—would you bring a message to him?"
Oluwande thought about it for a moment. "And why should I?" he asked cheekily, and Ed realized that it was going to be this way for the rest of his life.
"Because," he said in a sing-song voice. "The sooner you agree, the sooner I'll let you leave. And the sooner I let you leave, the sooner you can head to the Revenge and reunite with Jim."
That got his attention and he nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, sounds good to me," he said. "What's the message?"
"You know that cliff, up the hill to the east?" he asked and Oluwande nodded. "I'll be up there waiting for him. Got it?"
"Yeah, man, got it," he said, and Ed took his hand off of Oluwande's shoulder. Olu practically ran out of Spanish Jackie's, leaving his drink behind, half finished.
Ed picked it up and knocked it back, wiping the leftover moisture from his mouth with the back of his hand. He set it back on the bar with a loud clink and walked towards the exit.
"Until next time, Jackie!" he called to her as he passed.
"Get fucked, Blackbeard," she replied, and he hit the top of the doorframe with his hand and he left.
---
Ed waited on the cliff, alternating between pacing along the edge and leaning casually against a rock and it felt disastrously, nauseatingly close to his long wait on the pier. He nearly said fuck this no fewer than four times by the time he saw Stede walking up the hill.
Ed had been sitting on the cliff’s edge, his leather jacket long forsaken, one leg dangling and the other bent with the knee tucked against his chest when he caught sight of Stede, and he froze. The sun was setting, casting Stede in a soft glow, hair shining like a beacon in the dimming evening light and Ed swallowed because fucking shit, Stede looked good.
He dressed simply; plain shirt and trousers, with the shirt open a few inches at the chest and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Ed had never seen him look less like a gentleman and more like a pirate than he did in that moment. Even his hair looked softly windblown, instead of neatly coiffed. One hand rested on a sword that dangled from his belt and fuck, it was something. Ed put the other leg over the cliff edge and leaned back on his palms.
Stede crested the hill, and Ed turned away to look at the water, his eyes squinting in the setting sun. He scratched at his beard and wished it gone, wished it a foot long; anything but this horrible reminder of the last few months.
Stede settled next to him without a word, tried to reach out for Ed’s hand before deciding against it, and it rested on the grass between them.
“Ed,” he started, and a long pause followed. Ed spared a glimpse at him before looking away; he couldn’t bear to be the subject of such a gaze. His smile, his eyes, all were filled with hope and affection and it was too much. Ed swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Ed, I’m so, so glad you asked to see me,” Stede said, finally.
"Yeah, well, had to deliver something to you." Ed lifted himself to pull the bundle of letters from his back pocket, and his hand briefly brushed Stede's as he braced himself—the skin tingled at the contact.
He held out the letters and Stede took them cautiously, letting their fingers touch for a second too long in the exchange.
Stede fanned them out and Ed supplied, "Letters, mainly from your Alma." Stede froze, eyes firmly on Ed. "I've been told that little Louis isn't big on writing letters."
Stede chuckled, barely, looking between Ed and the letters. Ed didn't blame Stede for his hesitancy; he was Blackbeard, the Kraken.
"Ha, yes, he is much more interested in playing outside than his studies," he said, tone stilted.
"Oh, relax. They're fine. And besides, I like them much more than I like you right now," Ed said.
Stede really chuckled then and the sound of it loosened and knot in Ed's chest and a burning churned in the pit of his stomach; relief and agony in one.
"Thank you, then. I wasn't sure how I'd get her responses, if she even wanted to respond," he said, tucking the letters into the waistband of his trousers. Ed watched and his eyes lingered on Stede's waist. “I’m sorry for worrying. I trust you, and I trust them to take care of themselves, regardless.”
“Ah, it’s fine,” he said. “And you’re right, that Mary of yours has an edge.”
Stede laughed. “I don’t think she’d appreciate being called my anything. Except my widow, perhaps.”
“She offered to have Izzy killed, you know.”
“Did she?”
“Oh, yes—gave me the name of a person to do it and everything.”
“Sounds like her,” Stede said fondly. “You know, she tried to kill me, not long after I got back.”
“No!”
“Oh, yes. She tried to skewer me, right through the ear.”
“Ha! I knew, I liked her.”
“I’ve been dreadfully fearful of how the two of you might get along. It’s a good thing for the world at large that she detests the sea, else we’d both be out of careers,” he said, jokingly, before going quiet. "Ed, I have to ask, what made you to go to Barbados, of all places?"
Ed swallowed and took a breath, looking away. "I heard you died; wanted answers. Figured your wife would be able to give them." He paused and picked at the corner of a nail, scraping some dirt off of it. "Izzy was all too happy to help me get them."
"Answers? Ed, don't tell me you actually thought I was dead! I tried to make it as unlikely as possible, so you would know it for a fuckery!"
He shrugged, looking down. "Can't say I've ever been logical about you, mate."
"Oh, darling," Stede breathed, and this time he did take one of Ed's hand in his. The palms of Stede's hands were rougher than before, the telltale signs of new callouses scratched against the back of Ed's hand and he shivered at the contact and at the tone of Stede's voice, at the word darling.
"Don't," he said.
"I just—really? I was concerned that the piano was a bit overkill, to be honest. Not that the jungle cat wasn't."
Ed squeezed his hand. "I don't know. Izzy told me what happened and everything I had left was just…" he drifted off, gesturing his free hand in front of him. "Gone."
"I'm so sorry, dearest, for all of it," Stede said, putting a hand on Ed's chin and gently pulling so they were looking at each other. Ed went willingly, drinking in Stede's face, though his inside squirmed under the attention.
"Stede, no," Ed began, but Stede interrupted him.
"No, please. I came here to apologize, and I'd like to get it out, if you'll let me."
Ed nodded after a few seconds and Stede smiled sadly, dropping his hand from Ed's face; his cheek was cold without the contact.
"The lads told me about what happened, after you got back. You were hurting and my intentions could never matter in the face of that, but I never intended to cause you harm, darling." Stede scoffed, sounding angry at himself. "I thought you'd be better off without me."
Ed grimaced and he blinked away the prickles behind his eyes. Better? None of this was better.
"I wish you'd told me, Stede," he said. He didn't know what he would've done, if he Stede had come to the pier and told him this. Well, actually, that’s not true; he would've knocked Stede out, tied him up, and not let him say anything else until they were halfway to China.
Stede smiled sadly. "I wouldn't have been able to go, if I'd seen you again."
A tear leaked out, and Ed quickly wiped it away.
"I just don't understand, Stede. You said okay; we were going to leave together."
"I'd love to tell you that it was because Chauncy Badminton held me at gunpoint, and you'd already left by the time I got to the docks," Stede said, pitch going higher with the dramatics of it.
"Tell me that's just an elaborate fucking figment of your imagination, Stede."
He laughed, stroking the hand he still held. "Partially. He pulled me out of bed before your man came to get me. Dragged me into the woods with the intent to kill me, but not before he berated me for my mistakes. For ruining his brother, my family. You."
Ed pulled his hand away, angry. "You didn't fucking ruin me, Stede. I'm a person, I made my choices—I was happy with them."
"Of course, I know that. Now, at least," Stede pleaded. "It's that—my whole life, the entirety of it, I've had everything handed to me. My wealth, my wife, my children, piracy. While yes, I did purchase and design the ship myself, and found the crew, all of that was easy with the money I had access to. Even you came into my life like a dream, like a wish I made on a falling star came true. And I made a mess of all of it. Even Chauncy himself! Shot himself right in the eye instead of shooting me. I escape everything unscathed."
Ed didn't know how to respond, didn't know if he should, but he let Stede take his hand again, and the grateful look on Stede's face was worth it.
"I was a terrible father, a worse husband, and a frankly abysmal pirate. Even as a child, I was too busy letting my imagination run wild to be anything more than a passable student."
"You're not that bad of a pirate," Ed countered, desperate for some banter to lighten the air.
"Edward, I purposefully understocked munitions so I could bring more marmalade, to go be a pirate. I prioritized jam over gunpowder."
"And I, frankly, fully endorse that decision."
"Ed."
"It's also not every day that someone says that I could suck eggs in hell."
Stede huffed. "I wish I could take full credit for that one. I did say it, but I didn't know it was you I was referring to."
"Still ballsy." In retrospect, Ed had been half in love with him after that insult alone.
"Thank you, darling," he said and then sighed. "I suppose I left so I could stop hurting people, maybe clean up some of the messes I'd made. Get myself away from you, before I took you down with me."
"I'd have gone anywhere with you, Stede. Up, down, north, south. Anywhere you asked."
Stede exhaled loudly and released his hand, putting his on Ed's jaw and pulling him into a kiss.
Ed chuckled, joy bubbling up from his stomach and out of his smiling mouth—the kiss was frankly terrible, the angle worse than their last one and Stede's hand had moved from his jaw until it accidentally covered the entirety of the left side of his face. It was the most perfect kiss of his life.
Stede pulled back when he laughed, a concerned noise coming from him, and Ed said, "No, no," before pulling him back in. He put both hands on Stede's face to keep him there and he stayed without complaint, and Stede wrapped an arm around his shoulder in response.
Ed pulled back after a few long, indulgent moments, and Stede brought a hand back up to his jaw, stroking the inch or so of beard that had grown there with his thumb.
“I’ve spent my whole life being handed things. I wanted to work for something, prove that I wouldn’t ruin things. I stole a ship,” Stede said, wide, excited smile on his face, and he dropped his hand from Ed’s jaw to point out to a decent ship at the port. It wasn’t as nice as the Revenge, but Ed’d stolen worse. “I called it the King George, as a little joke.”
“Was that before or after you found the crew?”
“Oh, after! We weren’t too far from land, so I had to row them off that island a couple at a time—a regular Noah, I was, with a dinghy instead of an ark!” Ed appraised Stede and, yes, it definitely looked that he’d spent a lot of time doing labor on a ship—his shoulders looked broader, his thighs looked thicker. Ed wanted to be taken apart by him, more than he’d already been. “They’re a little put out about the whole marooning thing, but I figure if I can put their attempted mutiny at the start of our journey behind me, then they can put this behind them as well. Eventually, at least.”
“Good. I was happy to see Oluwande at port. Jim’s probably happier, though. Might even be enough to keep them from finally killing me.”
“Well, as glad as I am to hear that Jim’s fine, I’d be awfully put out if they tried to kill you.” Stede tugged him in to press a sweet, soft kiss to Ed’s temple. He started to stroke the back of Ed’s head. “I hope Frenchie and Lucius are fine, as well.”
Ed squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of Lucius—of the terror he’d wrought in Stede’s absence.
“Frenchie, yes, but I tried to kill Lucius,” he confessed quietly, and Stede’s fingers in Ed’s hair stopped. “I pushed him overboard in the middle of the night, knowing he wasn’t a strong swimmer.”
Still as stone but not moving away, Stede asked, “Why?”
“He was helping,” Ed responded. “He was helping me be Ed, and I needed to be Blackbeard, be the Kraken.”
“Well, that’s nonsense,” he said. “You need to be whomever you wish to be, and I don’t care what Izzy Hands says. I assume it was Izzy who fed you that malarkey; sounds like him, anyways.”
“It was,” Ed said, and he buried his face in Stede’s neck, grateful that Stede let him.
“You did say ‘try’ though, yes? It’s normally impolite to deal with semantics, but I fear that they’re important in this situation.”
He nodded, and he felt the beginnings of a beard of Stede’s own scratch his forehead.
“He climbed back on board and hid himself in your secret passages. The rest of them kept him hidden from me and Iz.”
Stede smiled. “Good lad.”
“I thought you’d be angrier.”
“I can’t say I’m pleased, Edward, but it sounds like all you really did is force the boy to take a bath. It’s him, and Black Pete, that you’ll have to contend with over this,” he said, and he resumed his ministrations in Ed’s hair. “There’s frightfully little I wouldn’t forgive you for, dearest.”
Ed put his arms around Stede’s middle, hugging him close. If Stede noticed the happy tears leaking from Ed’s eyes, he politely refrained from saying so. Fuck, he never used to cry this much.
They watched the last rays of light fade over the horizon. Eventually, Stede said, “I’d like to start over, if you’re willing. Court you properly, as it were, although I hope you’ll forgive me if we forgo the traditional chaperones.”
Ed pulled back to look at him, and his face in the starlight was too much, much more than any one man should have to resist, and Ed pulled him back into a quick kiss.
“What does this courtship entail, then?” he asked when they broke apart.
“Ah! I was thinking we’d start with dinner and dancing—a little risqué for strictly traditional courtship, but it’s another modification I don’t think you’d mind making.”
Ed’s mouth fucking watered at the prospect; he saw the formal dancing at that stupid French boat party and he had wondered what it’d be like to dance with Stede. Music playing, their bodies pressed against each other in fine silks, a little tipsy off of too good alcohol.
“And where are we doing this dining and dancing?” he asked, but frankly, he’d let Stede pull him into a dance in the corner of Spanish Jackie’s at this point.
“Well! On one of our more successful raids recently, I happened to find an invitation to another one of those parties and I figured, if we stick together this time, that it’ll be a much more pleasant experience. Now, I know that you, ah, didn’t keep my clothing, so I managed to snag a few nicer items from the captain’s closet before we departed,” he explained, and Ed shook his head.
“I—I, um, I didn’t get rid of everything. No one else knew about your hidden closet and, well, I wanted to keep them. Some of them are a little worse for wear, but the summer linens and the autumn vibes are still there,” he said and Stede beamed.
“Oh, well, excellent! I’m sure we can pull something together from that! And if not, who gives a damn,” he said and Ed should not find that tone as hot as he did—the irreverence of it. “I’m not trying to impress anyone but you, darling.”
“You’ll just use your passive aggression on them if they say anything.”
“Indeed! Massively,” he added with a wink and the last crack in Ed’s heart healed. It felt like warmth after a long chill, rest after hours of work; fucking intoxication with a pleasant burn as it goes down.
“I love you,” Ed said, the words bubbling out of him, unprompted and impossible to contain.
Stede’s mischievous grin softened into fondness. “Oh, my darling. I love you, too.”
Ed nodded. “I know—ha, your wife told me as much.”
“Did she?” Stede looked out over the water. Then, contemplatively, he said, “Seems like going to Barbados did some good for us both, then.”
“Hpmf, maybe,” Ed said. “You’d better not do this again, Stede.”
“I won’t, dearest,” Stede responded. “So long as you stop trying to murder our crew. There’s only so much a people positive management style can overcome, despite its outstanding success so far.”
“I could be persuaded, if this dinner and dancing thing pans out.”
“It sounds like we are of an accord!” he said, punctuating the sentence with a quick peck to Ed’s lips. “Should we head back to the ship?”
Ed scrunched his nose at the thought. He was chilly and the grassy dirt they’re sitting on was making his ass go numb, but he had Stede to himself, wrapped around him, exactly where he wanted him.
Stede noticed and put his lips to Ed’s ear. “I have an idea for another alteration to a traditional courtship, if you’re interested.”
“Yeah?”
Stede responded by tugging him into another kiss—the man was a fast learner; Ed could give him that. The angle was good for once, and so are the fingers Stede dug into the hair at the base of his skull.
When Stede pulled back, they’re both breathing deeply and Ed said, “The ship—yeah, the ship’s a good idea.” He quickly scrambled to his feet and pulled Stede with him, only stopping every five or ten feet to push him against a rock, a tree, a building.
---
Ed woke up the next morning in the captain’s (captains’) quarters of the Revenge, light filtering through the window and the sounds of celebrating coming from above deck. A light breeze swept through the open window and he shivered when it brushed his bare shoulder.
His head was pillowed on Stede’s chest, and the man kissed his forehead before pulling up the blankets over Ed, and he sunk further into the warmth. Stede’s fingers resumed their ministrations in a strand of Ed’s hair, and he flipped through papers with the other hand.
“Good morning, Ed,” he said.
Ed didn’t respond, favoring to mumble into Stede’s chest, leaving kisses as he went.
They were silent for a few moments more when Stede said, “Ah! Dear, we’ve been invited to Barbados for Easter!”