That’s a Very Touching Story - stitchy (2024)

Stede Bonnet is much too sensitive. This has been the sneering consensus of just about every acquaintance he has ever had. They meant to say that he’s quick to cry. That he’s too moved by art, and music, and strangers’ misfortunes. He’s too soft handed, too frilly and fussy and egads! Too feminine. Well, like it or not, it’s true. Every moment that Stede is awake, it seems he’s in some emotive thrall or other. The real trouble is, even as Stede lays in a decidedly unwaking delirium, his mind detached from body, and all behaviors and mannerism stripped away, it’s still true. Despite his aching wound blinding him to his extremities, his ears deafened by a pounding tide of blood, his blurry, smoke stung eyes, and his ash dry mouth - despite all of that- he is still too sensitive. Even as all else goes dim, his last most unrelenting sense crackles beneath like an improperly doused campfire.

Good Lord, he’ll be dead within a month, said a handshake.

Get f*cked, dipsh*t, someone thought, during a brush in close quarters.

Jag dödar honom!

Not if I kill you first!

This guy’s one sick puppy.

I don’t know why I’m wasting my time on this jerk.

Being gut stabbed was quite polite, all things considered.

But the echo of these memories ripple away at a new touch. Deft hands, tending his wound. A new, steady voice. Worn in, but wry.

Got the right idea being conked out, mate. I. am. knackered. But don’t worry, I’ve seen worse. You’re gonna make it through this... Reckon you’re tougher than your pretty looks let on, eh?... That’s it. You’re all right. You’re just too damned gorgeous to die, aren’t you? Devil doesn’t want the competition. Reckon you could stick a pitchfork in me any day... Ugh. God, man. You are so f*ckin’ hopeless. Just look at him. He’s half dead and you’re half hard! No wonder people think you’re a monster.

Some drowsy part of Stede knows these are not his own thoughts, bobbing around like carrots in the stew of an unmoored mind. It knows that it would be exceedingly strange to reply, but the rest of him is delirious, after all. He responds out loud.

“Wwzat a monss. Tuhrr?”

Oh, f*ck, there he is. The hands go still, in the midst of tightening a stitch. “Not sure what your on about, mate,” says the voice, properly- though Stede is barely aware of the difference.

“I’m... dead?”

“Not today.” One of the hands lays flat on Stede’s body, to calm him. “Not anytime soon. I’ve got it all under control. You can just relax, all right?”

“Ohhh, wow. Dunno howdo thang you.”

“Thank me by relaxing,” the voice smirks as it pats his chest. You’ll need your strength for when I jump your bones...

Stede laughs weakly. There are bones on his flag, because he’s a pirate! That’s why he got stabbed! And hanged! And then intercepted by the most legendary scoundrel of all time?! “Hope Blagbeard didn’t ssssee that,” he mumbles in shame. “‘Mmmbarrassing...”

Poor loopy sod. The hands resume their careful work. You should hear about the time I pissed on the governor of Maryland. Though the time I skewered that mayor in Virginia was funnier! If you’re into goats? I bet you’re into goats. You seem like you know a good time. And if you don’t, ohh, I’ll f*cking show you one, mate.

Stede struggles to make his poppy drunk tongue cooperate. “Maahry?” he finally inquires. Close enough.

Ah, f*ck. S’that the wife? The voice goes low. “Who’s this Mary, then?”

Stede attempts to raise a didactic finger, but he only manages to tap the tip of his index. “Where is Mahhhrland,” he corrects. Sort of.

“...North of here by fifteen hundred leagues, or so,” answers the voice. Is that where you’re from? Could've sworn you tripped off a f*cking cloud, you angel.

If Stede had any blood to spare, he’d blush. “M’from Barrrrrbados, aakshew… actually,” he slurs.

There’s a chuckle. That was weird. Damn it. Slipped. Have to tie that knot again.

Stede tries glancing down at what is surely tricky patch work being sewn into his gut, but his head weighs about the same as a pickle keg. “Are you? From the Spanishhh shib?”

“Dick thing to say to the guy with a needle in your guts,” the voice chuckles again. It’s a lovely laugh. Don’t remember me, I guess. I mean, duh. You’re high as a kite. It’s amazing you can remember where the f*ck you’re from, let alone who just rescued your arse. You’re f*cking zooted, mate. Out to lunch. Gone f*cking fishing. Next you’ll tell me your dick’s made of solid gold. “Alright, now, we’re alllllmost done stitching you up.”

Stede frowns. “It’s jusss normal.”

“What is?”

“M’dick? S'not gold!”

The hands pull away entirely. “Uhm.” The voice hesitates for a long moment. “Er. Just rest up.”

Stede nods, stumbling back towards slumber.

Historically, he never liked having his injuries nursed. It always seemed to cancel out, with all that prolonged contact inviting the nurse’s mind to wander. What scrape kneed child could find comfort in a nanny who despised the rich brat she raised? What weepy nosed son would want to cuddle with a mother who was so disgusted by him? There is no healing benefit in the laying on of hands when those hands are apathetic at best, borderline murderous in middling circ*mstances, or- God forbid- Mary’s hands.

As Stede’s consciousness slips away, he just thinks, for a near death experience, this has been... pleasant.

Hey.

Stede wakes again when the back of a hand grazes his forehead.

No fever. Still hot as hell, though.

This time when they open, Stede’s eyes have recovered from the fog of battle. He can see the man sitting at his bedside now, and he’s just as heartening to look upon as he was to hear. Handsome, and interesting, and streaked with silver and concern, in equal measure. Stede never knew anyone could look at him like that. Like they hoped he wouldn’t drop dead.

“Hello?” Stede croaks.

The man smiles. “That was a close one, eh?”

“Yes, my- my crew!” Stede suddenly realizes. He tries to sit up, but the man lays a hand on his arm, keeping him still.

Stop right there. “They’re all fine,” he promises. “In fact, I’ve never seen a heartier gang of pirates.”

“Oh, that’s good news,” Stede breathes in relief. “I do encourage them to eat their greens,” he adds appreciatively.

The other man is not as instantly at ease. His eyes narrow as he stares at Stede. “Did you already know that?” he asks. “That not a one of them would be dead?”

“What?” Stede blinks up at him. “No?”

“Are you, or are you not… a wizard?” the man asks in a prowling whisper.

In one heart stopping moment, Stede realizes what must have happened while this man was fixing him up. He must have thought to himself, and Stede must have answered.

“I’m… Stede?” he answers meekly.

So much for setting out on a new life of bravery.

Anyway, if this man really suspects him for what he is, it doesn’t dissuade him enough to reject a handshake. “I’m Ed,” he says. And apparently I’m f*cking losing it. Falling head over heels for a freakin’ corpse and then accusing him of being magic. f*cking lunatic behavior.

Again, Stede is flummoxed. “Uhm. What’s happening?”

“Just an old man losing his mind.” Ed’s touch falls away again as he sits back. “S’only, when you were awake before, it seemed you were answering questions that hadn’t been asked yet.” He scoffs, disbelieving even himself. “Seeing the future- that’s wizardry, in my book.”

“Ah,” says Stede. “That would be odd, wouldn’t it.” He shifts uncomfortably in his pillows.

Ed reaches out again to prevent him from moving too suddenly. “Mind your guts don’t go popping out, y’hear?”

“Oh!” Stede gulps a laugh. “Yes. I wouldn’t want to undo your lovely embroidery.”

He tries not to hear Ed this time as his gentle fingertips skate along his skin, he really does, but he can’t help it.

God, even if you’re not my kinda magic, you’re still cute as f*ck. I’d patch you back together again at least twice before it pissed me off.

My kind of magic? Stede mouths. The spark of familiarity overrules his instinct to keep his secrets to himself. Maybe the pharmacopia still coursing through his blood helps, too. “I can’t see anything about the future, but I can hear what someone’s thinking when I touch them!” he blurts out.

Ed’s fingers freeze and his brows clash together so forcefully, there ought to be a thunderclap. “f*ck off…”

“Really! Like right now you’re thinking, Oh f*cking f*ck! If that were true you’d know how I’m gagging to get dicked down! So much for Blackbeard’s f*cking mystique.”

As soon as Stede says it, Ed rips his hand away again. “You-”

“I’m so sorry,” Stede cringes. Whatever mercy Blackbeard has, he throws himself before it. Stede cowers into the pillows as deeply as he can, to show he’s no threat. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’ve been half out of my mind with pain!”

But, bizarrely, Ed doesn’t seem all that upset. His stormy expression lightens, moment by moment, until he’s smiling handsomely. “This is f*cking amazing. You know what it’s like then,” he says. “Being like this,” he gestures at himself.

“Being… sensitive?” Stede tries, hopefully.

“Is that what you call it?” Ed scrunches his nose in distaste. “I call it a curse.”

Stede mirrors him. “That does sound better, doesn’t it? Branding-wise…”

“That’s what it’s all about, being Blackbeard,” Ed sighs. He gets up from the edge of the bed and paces over to the wall, where he spies his reflection in the glass of a framed picture. “Keeping that dark edge.” He bares his teeth at himself, then frowns and wanders away again.

Very gingerly, Stede sits up in bed. Any soreness he may feel is now outweighed by intrigue. “If you don’t mind my asking… What is your curse, exactly?”

Ed crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall. “I see death,” he says. “I see the death of any man who dares touch me.”

He’s not putting as much smolder into it as he quite obviously routinely does, but still, a chill runs up Stede’s spine. You know, he has heard tell of this in passing, Blackbeard the Seer of Death, but it always seemed sort of metaphorical. Blackbeard is deadly, so naturally, any man he touches is bound to be in for it!

Except Stede.

“You saw my death when you sewed me up,” he realizes. “I suppose that means you knew you weren’t wasting the effort…”

That’s handy!

Slowly, Ed nods to confirm. “Every time,” he says, coolly. “I see it every time I touch someone.”

“Oh.” Stede’s heart thuds, jarringly. “Oh no…”

Horror with every handshake. Existential battery with every brush in the street. Even a well intentioned pat on the arm, or a friendly embrace turned into a grave omen. He thought he had it bad being barraged by the worst of people’s thoughts, but to be constantly subjected to grisly death, out of the blue?

Stede frowns across the way at Ed. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. So sorry. That must be agonizing,” he says. “You must be-” Constantly terrified? Tired? Guarded and lonely? All of the things Stede is, as well? “You must be my guest, Ed,” Stede offers. “Anything I can do, to make you comfortable… Anything I can do help!”

Ed casts a glance over his shoulder, toward the library. “Don’t s’pose you’ve got a cure, in there? Got more learned books than I’ve ever seen, mate. That’s why I reckoned you might be a wizard. Or at least shook down one for everything he was worth...”

“Sorry,” Stede shakes his head. “While some of my books are quite transcendent, I’m afraid they disappoint on that front. I hope you haven’t had your hopes up.”

“No! Nah. Just a pipe dream,” Ed huffs a laugh, and waves a dismissive hand. “Besides it’s not all bad. Got its advantages, too. Comes in f*ckin’ handy when you brawl for a living.” He launches off of the wall again and approaches Stede once more, his fingers spread for a pantomime. “Touch a guy, see that Fang’s about to put a knife through his ear? Shove ‘im Fang’s way! Touch another, see he’s gonna die chained to an anchor? Ha! Thanks for the suggestion!”

“Very practical,” Stede remarks. However grim, it would seems Ed has found much more utility for his sense than Stede ever has. It must have taken practice to harness. Trial, and potentially terrible error. “And what happens when you touch yourself?” he asks, scientifically.

Ed halts, a little awkwardly. “Uhhh-”

“You don’t have to tell me!” Stede points out. “It’s personal.”

“Sure is!”

“I just wondered if you can even see it,” Stede shrugs.

“Oh! You mean like- no!” Ed blows out an exhale and drops to sit on the edge of the bed, beside him. “No, nahhh. I dunno know how I die.”

“Do you want to?”

“Die?” Ed tosses up an eyebrow, as if he could throw the question over his shoulder, just as casually. “Eh, not today!”

Stede sighs a laugh. “I do think the day is shaping up rather better than expected.”

“Watch out,” Ed smirks. “It’s the expectation that’ll get you.”

“So they say.” Stede looks at Ed sitting next to him, tapping his booted toes, and being surprisingly buoyant through all of this. He already thought Blackbeard was incredible, but Ed really is a marvel. “Suppose I’m destined to keel over from shock, am I?”

Ed gives him a sphinxy look. “Do you really wanna know?”

Stede’s fingers twitch in his lap and his breath comes short. Is it wrong that he wants to touch Ed again? He wants to know everything he’s thinking. He wants, for once, for someone to touch him back and know him, in some profound way. At the same time, he wants to stay at a safe distance, and continue being toyed with. Most of all, he desperately wants Ed to like him, but here’s the thing! Ed already likes him, and Stede knows it, and Ed knows he knows it, and all that wanting and liking-

Well, all that is much more terrifying prospect than just going ahead and asking.

“How do I die?”

Ed smiles at Stede. “It’s how I’d go, if I could pick,” he says.

“Ah… A fate worthy of Blackbeard himself.” Stede wracks his mind for something impressive. “Perhaps death by lightning? Struck down, while riding the crow’s nest through a storm. When my flaming body hits the deck, the whole ship catches fire and sails out of control, crashing into enemy harbor!”

“f*ck me, that’s brilliant,” laughs Ed. “Should I lie, say you guessed it?”

Stede frowns. “So, not that?”

With a tentative breath, Ed holds out a hand. “The farther off a death is, it’s fuzzy ‘round the edges. So if you really want the nitty gritty details…”

And of course, Stede does. He loves details! They clasp together, fingers braceleted around one another’s bare wrists. Perhaps now that each is fully aware of the other, the touch is accompanied by a flood of harmony that feels as if it could carry Stede away, bodily.

It’s peaceful, isn’t it?

Is that… Ed? The sensation of his death through Ed? The combination of both of their sensitivities, intermingling? Whatever it is, Ed clearly feels it, too. He even goes so far as to close his eyes.

“It's a soft death,” he says. “And you look much older but you're not so old that it looks like a gross chore, y’know what I mean?”

Stede chuckles. “I suppose I’d know it if I saw it?”

You’re still so handsome, Ed’s voice sighs, before his lips move again. “You’re not sick or in pain,” he says. “You’re not scared of dying, even.”

Something about the reverence in Ed’s voice burrows deep and true. Stede can’t do anything but let it sink in, that this is real. He will die old, and peaceful, no matter how he once doubted it. No matter how recently he thought he would die of misery. No matter that he has come here, to stand on the slicing edge of life, daring its verdict. He won't be cut short. A tear squeezes out as Stede shuts his eyes.

“I think I can feel it,” he tells Ed, in a hush. “Being… ready.”

“Yeah, you are,” Ed whispers back. Reckon I’ve seen enviable deaths before, but- this might be the best.

“It must be, if it outstrips a blaze of glory,” Stede grins.

There’s a sharp inhale as Ed is reminded that Stede is reading him, too. “f*ck. That’s- gonna take getting used to,” he says. He clears his throat to speak more intentionally, and firms his grip. “It’s sunlit, like- you know the fuzzy kinda light coming through a window, with all the motes and sh*t in the air?”

“Yes…”

“That,” says Ed. “And you look all golden again, even though your hair is white. And it’s a soft bed. It’s just your heart is slowing down, is all. You’re tired, and it’s warm, and you're-”

“Comfortable.”

f*ck yeah. You look so comfortable. I wanna climb right into the bed, and hold you, kiss you-

“Oh!” Stede’s the one who breaks away, this time. He feels bereft, the moment he loses his hold of Ed, but he doesn’t want to overstep. “Thank you, Ed, that was-”

“sh*t,” Ed shakes off the sort of daze they were both just in. “Sorry, that wasn’t cool-”

“No! You did beautifully. I’m the one who has no control…”

“Still,” Ed scoffs. He shifts back in his seat, away from Stede. “Gotta learn to keep it in my mind pants.”

“It’s really no bother!” Stede insists. It’s hardly the first time someone he’s brushed with has had their libido in mind. The only aberration is that it’s been aimed in Stede's direction. Still! An improvement. “You have no idea the horrid things some people think of me,” he tells Ed. “Well. Most people, really...”

“Bastards,” Ed growls under his breath. But rather than dwell on his faux pas, he moves to distract himself with the odds and ends up on the nearby desk.

Having just survived a stabbing and been informed of his death by a definitive source, Stede really doesn’t have the wearwithal to tackle with this other element either, anyway.

“So! Shall I show you around?” he suggests.

Ed wakes to lace fluttering around his neck and wrists. Fine china set out for an impromptu breakfast in bed. Marmalade on the fighting top. It’s not at all what he bargained for, when he set out to meet the Gentleman Pirate.

If Stede Bonnet had only been beautiful and as mad as a loon, capering across the Caribbean in a floating palace, it would have been enough to thrill him. If Stede had little more than rags, and possessed only his special knack, that would have been fascinating, too. If Ed's vision of the man’s death was the only notable discovery, Ed would still be shaken to the core. All of these surprises, all at once? Talk about a lighthouse, blaring right into his face. Stede! Stede! Stede! f*ck’s sake! He shines so bright it's a wonder Ed slept a wink last night.

Or maybe it's not. What else could Ed expect, when from the moment they first touched, he felt an ease he never even dreamed was possible? Here and there, he’s met men with peaceful deaths, but never before one who’s contentment was so palpable. It’s so real a vision, it’s as though Ed is more of a participant than a witness. It almost feels like a promise of his own longevity. Like he’s destined to be there with Stede, at the end and always. Of course- it could be that he’s got it all balled up, and it’s just that he’s so excruciatingly attracted to the man that he’s talked himself into a fantasy. f*cking hell.

Stede’s elbow bumps Ed’s as they tuck into breakfast and he tries to force his mind to go blank, no matter how every little nudge excites him. “The Gentleman Pirate,” Ed smirks. “S’funny, considering. Not very gentlemanly to snoop...”

“Oh, pish posh,” Stede tuts. “It’s not as though I engage in anything so tawdry.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Mm?”

Ed shrugs and takes another bite of muffin. “Why not be a career blackmailer?”

Stede considers this as he chews. “Well, I doubt most people go around thinking their most leverageable thoughts, top of the mind, all the time,” he says. “Most people that I meet are primarily concerned with how quickly they can end our encounter.”

f*cking numskulls. Here Ed is, scrambling to devise a way to linger.

“Maybe you just need to prod them a bit,” he suggests.

“Maybe,” Stede sighs. Then he turns to look at Ed, his clever eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose you know any masters of coercion who could help to hone such a skill?”

“I might,” Ed grins. “If you know someone who could teach me the ways of a gentleman.”

The colors of sunrise paint Stede’s smile as they reach their deal. Even scarred and pale from his run in with the Spanish, Ed’s never seen anyone so glowing and perfect. He takes his hand, hopelessly hopeful.

Just shake it. Don’t try and see anything. Don’t think about how good it feels. How you wanna curl up in it. How badly you want to curl around him- ah f*ck!

Stede- gorgeous, understanding Stede- refuses to be flustered this time. He smiles determinedly as they part. “I look forward to partaking of your expertise!”

Before Ed can tease out just what that means, he hears a familiar huff of exasperation, below.

Ugh, that’s right. He got so caught up with Stede and the Spanish and the lighthouse and everything, he never did check back in with Izzy. Ed excuses himself and climbs back down to the deck, where his First Mate is making good on his threat to resign. Parcel by parcel, he loads a dinghy so that he can take off on his own.

Is this how it happens? Ed saw a fate for Izzy, years ago, that could very well start here. He was cold and alone and miserable, starving on the streets with the rats. Not a pirate’s death, at all- but that seemed like a strategic advantage. As long as Ed kept him close, his chances of being executed seemed slimmer. Of course, in order to keep him close, Ed had had to invent a more persuasive death…

In his sorry state, Izzy refuses to meet Ed’s eye, even as he notices his approach. “Said some things I regret last night,” he admits, more to the sea than anything. “You’re not a shell of a man, or a twat.”

Ed groans and leans into the railing, staring down into the water with him. “You were right, Iz... I’m losing my touch.”

That stops Izzy in his tracks. He curls his gloved hand in a fist- the hand he keeps gloved so he won’t accidentally trigger Ed. “You don’t mean-”

“No,” Ed cuts him off. “But it isn’t getting any easier to cope with, day in, day out.”

Izzy scoffs and looks back over his shoulder at the crew of the Revenge, milling about on deck. “Here I am, thinking seeing these idiot’s deaths would be refreshing.”

Ed laughs. They are, but not like Izzy means. This whole ship is brimming with more gentle fates than probability should allow. Their deaths are all the quiet and kind sort, falling short of perfection only because Stede’s is so particularly appealing. One has to wonder, is that Stede’s doing? By proximity to their captain, are the crew being saved from the miseries of most men? Could knowing Stede do the same for Ed? In any case, it’s probably better if Ed doesn’t let on about it. Izzy doesn't understand this kinda stuff.

“Maybe there’s such a thing as too much,” he tells Izzy. “Maybe it’s catching up to me. Might be time to pack it in while I can still get out alive.”

Izzy’s brow furrows deeply. “You’re talking about retiring?”

Ed glances back up at the nest. He can only see the soles of Stede’s boots from down here, but the sight of any part of him lifts his spirits. “I think there’s an opportunity here, while we have double the crew, double the ships,” he says. “We could have one last big hurrah…”

Izzy balks at the suggestion. “You want to do a job. With him!?” he points.

“If you’re worried about your share, don’t be. He’s too rich to pinch your pennies.”

That doesn’t soothe Izzy in the slightest. “What do you see in that foppish little sh*t?” he hisses. “Does he die dressed like that? Is that it? You want to use him to bury Blackbeard? Well how does that work, when you told me I’d die as your First Mate?”

Ed could tell Izzy everything, right now. He could admit he lied about his fate. He could scupper any talk of murdering and bodyswitching with a moment’s honesty. He could at least divulge Stede’s secret- after all, it is an asset to their machinations- but he won’t. How could he begin to explain what happens when they touch, without revealing too much? And what if Ed burns this bridge behind him, only to find that Stede’s oasis has suddenly vanished?

Rather than answer any questions, Ed lays a heavy hand on Izzy’s shoulder. He curls his fingers into his collar and growls. “Time’s not up just yet, is it?”

Izzy swallows hard against the tight pull of the cloth. “No, Captain.”

It’s a terrific privilege being able to accompany Blackbeard’s crew on a raid. They’re a well oiled machine, with a legion of rehearsed maneuvers, code words, and matchy match costumes. It rather reminds Stede of a theater company. And to think! That he should be allowed to understudy with the most brilliant, most talented, most legendary of characters. The peek behind the curtain is invaluable to his hopes of one day performing his own spectacular.

Any fear Stede briefly harbors that Ed sees him primarily as a tool for his own piratical gain is vanquished just as surely as their French foe. With every passing touch, he is made confident in their burgeoning friendship. Ed believes in him. He wants him to do well. Stede’s all the better, all the more menacing a marauder for it.

“Now, you’ve got a few obvious options here,” says Ed. He circles around Stede and his captive, who he just learned to properly tie to a chair. “A little throttling never goes amiss, for instance.”

“Of course,” Stede weaves his fingers together, then turns his palms out and flexes all the joints in his hands, in preparation.

“Or you could bend his fingers back. Or stick a rod in between, and give ‘em a squeeze.”

“Ah! Now, how’s that sound?” Stede grins viciously at his quarry. “Like you’d much rather give up the goods, no doubt!”

“Non.” The French merchant captain sniffs distastefully. “A broken finger? That iz the worzt you can do?”

“That’s back talk,” Ed tsks at the prisoner. “Sorry, mate. Now I’m gonna suggest he gets f*ckin’ weird with it.”

Stede laughs maniacally and the captain’s haughty expression falls. “What shall I do?” he asks Ed. “Set fire to the end of his ponytail? Tap out a tarantella on his kneecaps? Flick his earlobes?”

“-With a knife?” Ed suggests, handily brandishing one for Stede to use.

“Ooo! Combo.”

Now see, that is the heat Stede was looking for. He lunges in, pins the man back against the headrest by the neck, and tips the blade under his ear.

“Ugh,” the captain chokes. Mains froides.

“We found the locked chest you thought you were so clever to hide under the floorboards,” says Stede. “Now where’s the key!?”

Vous n'allez pas le trouver. Tu as échoué.

Stede frowns. This is a complication he had not anticipated. He’s only getting every third word. “He’s being French, Ed!” he cries.

Ed hocks a wad of spit on the floor. “Disgusting, isn’t it?”

“What elz did you ezpect?” the French captain sneers. Barbares. Sales voleurs.

Again, Stede has only a partial understanding. He adjusts his grip at the man’s throat as though that might be the issue, and not the fact that he only speaks enough French to put in an order at a pâtisserie. “I expect you to cough up the key, if you wish to keep your ability to wear spectacles intact!” he insists.

“Keep hammering him with the question, mate! You’re doing great.”

Stede sets his expression to fiery and gets up in his face. “Where’s the key?!”

“Where’s the f*cking key?!” Ed repeats, even more powerfully.

“I will not zay,” the French captain swears, through clenched teeth. S'ils ne me tuent pas…

“If you don’t tell me where the key is, I’ll have two chests to smash open,” Stede snarls.

“f*cking brutal,” Ed chuckles. He comes up behind Stede and gives his elbow an encouraging squeeze. “Should I go get an ax?”

Stede throws a smile over his shoulder. “Oh, thank you, that would be such a help!”

“You got it, mate.”

The captain’s mind races as Ed leaves to make good on their threat. Dans mon manteau. Non. Non, ne dit pas. La guilde va me tuer!

It feels so close to an answer, but the panic is just as hard to break through as the language barrier.

“Where!?” Stede demands, with shove. The chair rocks back on two legs and then falls down on all four again with a bang. “Where is the key!?”

C'est cousu dans mon manteau.

Manteau. That’s a coat! So it’s in his coat? But they already searched his pockets- that can’t be right. Unless…

Stede marches over to the cabin door and hollers down the hall. “Frenchie! Is ‘cousu’ the word for sewing? Something sewn into a lining of something, perhaps? And in that case, did we bring scissors?”

What is Stede saying? He has a knife!

Ed is delighted with him, upon his return. They dig into the opened chest to find a king’s ransom in gold. Even Ed’s sour-faced First Mate has to admit it's a hefty haul, as he drags it away.

“Saw a fancy table, all set up with crystal and sh*t,” Ed mentions as they move along. “Wanna take a look?”

Naturally, Stede is eager to return the favor of a pirating lesson with some guidance in gentlemanship. He can only hope he was as witty a pupil as Ed, who sets right down to task with the focus of a marksman. Ed is alternatingly overly respectful of the canteen as one would be a loaded gun, hesitant to touch it until it is both understood and required, then utterly transported by the opportunity to wield each and every stick of cutlery. It gives Stede a new appreciation for that which he took for granted, to see even a lowly cheese knife held in his inquisitive hands.

“And we have a full selection of stemware, here,” Stede indicates. He hovers over each glass one by one. “There are the goblets, generally the workhorse of the glasses. You’ll note the tulip and thistle shapes on these-”

“Tulip, thistle,” Ed nods, committing each to memory.

“Then there’s the flute- less of an opening for bubbles to escape, you see. Then the cordial, meant for a sweet desserty drink-”

“Sorta stingy,” Ed frowns, at its diminutive size.

Stede sighs in agreement. “That’s the upper crust, for you.”

Ed tings his finger against a much larger glass, making it sound like a bell. “Why not serve dessert in this bad boy?”

“Well, that’s a snifter- you don’t fill it up with drink anyway, so much as let the aroma fill the bowl…”

“Huh.”

“For your more dark, savory brews,” Stede explains. “Then as you lift it to your nose, you get to enjoy it twice. Yum yum!”

“Mmm,” Ed hums deeply, as he imagines. “Yum yum.”

Stede’s heart does a little shudder. Ed’s enjoyment and approval has a way of striking a match and warming him, so that he realizes just how cold he has been, up until now. It’s so rare that anyone should savor his words, and drink of them with relish. It takes him a moment to catch his breath.

“Now, ah… If I were to pour you some champagne, in which glass do you think that would be?” Stede asks his most excellent student.

“Bubbly, so-” Ed goes for the flute.

“Very good,” says Stede. But without thinking, he reaches to adjust Ed’s grip, covering his hand and sliding it down the glass. “Though, you’ll want to hold it at the stem, so you don’t counteract the chill…”

Soft f*cking magic hands, Ed sighs within.

As Stede pulls away, he quickly papers over his intrusion with feigned distraction. “Now, I thought I saw some wine a moment ago in the corner… You’re doing so well, so gracefully, of course you deserve a treat. We can practice tasting!”

“Pretty sure I’ve been tasting all my life, mate…”

“Not like this,” Stede says, as he searches the cupboard behind the table. “But I’ll wager you have as keen a palette as your wit!”

“Yeah! ‘Course,” says Ed. “Just another thing I f*cking rock at. What’s a palette?”

Stede squints to think. “Your tongue, I suppose?”

“Ahh… ” Ed clears his throat. “You have high hopes for my talented tongue, do you?”

“Naturally!”

While Stede hunts about to find and uncork a bottle, Ed chuckles to himself. When Stede turns back around, it’s apparent why. Though Ed has rightly lifted the proper goblet to be served wine, he has slouched over the table, like a stroppy schoolboy.

Stede raises an eyebrow and withholds his pour. “Remember, Ed. Elbows off of the table.”

“How’m I supposed to sit?” Ed pouts at Stede over his shoulder, and there’s no need to touch him to know that he’s acting up on purpose- and yet.

Stede wraps a hand at Ed’s closest, barest arm, guiding him to correct his posture. “Upright.”

I’ll say, Ed grins. He drapes himself back against the chair heavily, as though he might happily let the whole chair tip and spill him on the floor. As he moves, his knee knocks the underside of the table. Jesus, that coulda been my dick, you get me so riled.

“Now don’t fall!” Stede panics, catching the back of the chair. “I don’t care how sparkling your conversation is, if you crack your skull open, party over.”

“sh*t,” Ed squeaks and catches the edge of the table to pull himself right, once more. “Maybe we should take the wine and head back to the ship before I f*cking off myself…”

A change of scenery is no real respite from the mounting tension, however. Not when the next thing they know, they’re elbow to elbow in the auxiliary wardrobe, picking out outfits for a party Frenchie found an invitation to. Stede knows he’s playing with fire by being in such close quarters and in a state of undress with a man who not so secretly lusts after him, but he also knows it definitely won't kill him.

“I nearly left this suit behind when I left home, since I can never find an occasion to wear it,” Stede tells Ed. He slips a rather inspired frock off its hanger. “I’m so glad I brought it. I think the color would suit you marvelously.”

Ed is already shucking his gloves and wriggling off his own jacket, in anticipation. They fall to the floor in a clatter of buckles and hardened alligator hide. Ooo! And a pop of silky red hanky? Ed really is a man after his own heart.

With both battle scarred, tattooed arms, Ed bundles the very most opposite of garments into his chest, in a cascade of purple and glittering gold. “This is f*cking beautiful,” he says.

“Yes,” Stede agrees, savoring his grin.

“You never wore it?” Ed brings the velvet to his cheeks with both hands and muffles into the fabric. "Ohh."

“Just wait ‘til you feel the matching breeches…”

Stede’s gut twinges, and for a moment he worries his wound has had a relapse, but it’s only that one of Ed’s indulgent moans has shot straight through him.

“Hng! I don’t know how you’d ever pry these britches off me… Still hope you try, though,” Ed purrs.

Good Lord. But. Stede’s not touching him? Did he just say that out loud? A slip of the tongue, surely. The gentlemanly thing would be to ignore it.

Stede whirls around and dives into the opposite rack of clothes, before the resulting blood rush can embarrass him, going in one heady direction or the other. “So!” Stede makes quite the business of rifling through his options. “What shall I wear? I think you’ve convinced me it should involve velvet.”

“Wait, you’re gonna change out of that?” Ed asks, looming close behind him. “You already look f*ckin’ gorgeous.”

Stede’s cheeks burn, and he looks down to smooth his blue suit, which is very nice, but not nice enough for a night of wining and dining the Blackbeard, King of the Pirates- and for God’s sake. Apparently, he does have enough blood to embarrass himself simultaneously. He's got an erection.

“Well!” Stede huffs. He quickly pulls a coat from the rack to shield the tent in his breeches before he turns around. “You’re going to be such a splendid sight. So bold and noble. I should like to be worthy of escorting you.”

This might have been more a successful tactic if Ed had not removed his shirt in order to try wearing the purple jacket against his bare skin, while Stede’s back was turned. Stede drops the hanger at the sight of Ed’s well built chest, brimming with inky lines that just beg to be traced to parts unseen.

Perhaps due to his lessons in being a gentleman, Ed immediately ducks down to fetch Stede’s coat. “I got it!”

“Uh! Uh!”

As ever, Ed’s too quick a wit not to notice Stede’s predicament while he’s down there- it could’ve nearly put his eye out, after all. Ed grins as he stands up again, and returns the hanger to Stede’s shaking hand. Don’t apologize. Don’t beat yourself up.

Stede gasps at his touch. “Force of habit,” he chuckles breathlessly.

Smooth as a late evening shadow, Ed moves to crowd him against the selection of Autumn Vibes. “Mate, I might be the sow’s ear, but you’re the real silky deal,” he says in a low rumble. “Own it.” His fingers brush Stede’s again. Or at least let me rub up against it.

“Ed…” Stede frowns. “I wish you wouldn’t put yourself down, even to pay a compliment. If anyone is the pinnacle of worldliness- it’s you.”

There you go again, Ed huffs, fluffing the curls of his beard. f*cks me up you say things like that.

Stede’s heart pounds. “I don’t know what else to say,” he whispers.

“f*ck, Stede.” Ed leans in so close that heat leaps between their bodies with every breath. So close he must feel Stede’s panic. “I know you know,” he says. Even when you’re not touching me, I can’t stop thinking about you.

Oh, but this is awful! What a blunder!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much it must bother you,” Stede sniffs. “I can try harder not to know- to not touch you- it's just I really can’t stand wearing gloves, or else I’d-”

“Don't,” Ed stops him. Don’t try to be different. Don't be anything you aren't. You're bloody amazing. “I like it, I promise.”

“You say that now, but-”

“Stede.” Ed clasps his hands to Stede’s cheeks, too direct a touch to be misunderstood or shrugged off. You beautiful idiot. “I want you in my head.” I want you to touch me. Know me. I’m so f*cking tired of feeling death, mate. I just want to feel you, know you.

“Oh, Ed…”

He bows his head against Stede’s, pressing their foreheads together as though that could make the understanding go both ways. Of course, that is what he’s asking for.

What are you thinking? Tell me. Tell me I’m not crazy to feel like this. Or, better yet- tell I’m your kinda crazy, you gorgeous f*cking bastard.

Stede swallows hard, trying like hell to loosen up any part of him, but he’s so afraid of his own body. It’s never responded to anyone like this. It’s never appealed to anyone, either- let alone someone who has his own frustrations with touch!

“You’re too good to me, Ed,” Stede finally forces out. “You like me, and I can’t understand it.”

“Pfft. Understanding’s for nerds. We’re pirates,” Ed smirks. Pirates are as blunt as their cudgels. As blunt as asking, outright, “Don’t you like me, too?” Ed peers at Stede, with those bottomlessly deep, dark eyes. So intense and tender, all at once. Precisely what he would want from a mate, if he let himself want such things.

“Yes,” Stede breathes. “So very much. But I barely understand that, either.”

I wanna make it so you understand, say the lips that suddenly seal with his. Let me. Let me make it real. Make it more than some blip of a thought.

Stede drops the hanger on purpose. Not that he knows where else his hands should go, only that there’s no point in being as prim and shy as he always has been when they’re kissing, when there’s hands clamoring at his neck, and a mouth pressed against his. Not to mention the hard on Stede’s pressing back…

You think I’m good to you? You got any idea how f*cking good it feels, just to be around you? Just to think about you, and your mad little ship. And then! You touch me for a split f*cking second and I wish you’d never stop. Touch me, touch me.

How can Stede question it, when it’s flooding through his brain, spoken to his very soul? He can’t let Ed go wanting. He slips his hands to his waist, where Ed is soft and scarred in turns, but perfect. Ed whines a perfect, musical note into their kiss as Stede finally squeezes him in an embrace.

They huddle backwards, under the rack, in between the hanging clothes, until Stede’s back hits the wall. It’s a warm and wild flurry of Yes, Please, Oh thank you, and f*cking thank f*ck, I can’t believe I’ve finally got my hands on you. Then there’s a tongue, slipping past his lips and licking the backs of his teeth, Let me in, let me taste you, and try as he might, Stede can’t help but laugh. Do teeth have a taste? Wouldn’t you go around tasting them all day? If he’s too used to his own, then he’d better try out Ed’s. Ed, who groans when Stede pries into his mouth. Ed, who sucks on his tongue and writhes against his hardness, thinking Holy f*ck, I want you inside me. f*ck me f*ck me f*ck me-

Even for Stede, who can’t help but mentally intrude on a regular basis, its an overwhelming thought.

“Oh, God. Oh, Ed.” Stede hangs back a moment to catch his breath. “I think maybe that’s- that’s a little fast, isn’t it?”

Ed barely breaks stride, instead kissing down Stede’s neck. “Relax,” he growls at Stede’s throat. “Not gonna make you bugger me in a closet. Little on the nose.” Just fun to think about it. Tease it. “Gives you the hots, huh?”

“Yes!” Stede surrenders. “B-but I’ve never- no one’s ever even wanted to kiss me, before…”

“That’s their f*cking problem,” Ed scoffs. He kisses Stede again and runs his hands down his chest, pulling at his buttons. Your only problem should be deciding whether you’d rather come in my hand or my mouth.

Stede whimpers. As if rutting into Ed’s thigh isn’t already nearly the end of him.

“Mm? What’s that?” Ed grins away from their kissing, so he can better see what he’s doing with Stede’s closures. “Suck you off like my life depends on it?”

“Hhh!” Stede whines. “Please. Ed. Oh. Whatever you’d like.” Button by button, he pants harder and harder, until Ed is pulling his co*ck free and he’s practically crying. “Please, please, Ed…”

“Only too happy, mate,” Ed chuckles. He clutches a tight fist around Stede that he can’t help but push into frantically.

“I don’t know what’s come over me!” Stede cries as his hips move, unbidden. It feels so good. He can't stop. He's got to keep humping into Ed's perfect, lovely hand, or he'll lose his mind. He's already lost his mind. “I’ve suddenly become a sex maniac!” Stede sobs.

“Pfft.” Ed kisses him quiet. Dunno who’s done your head in like this, but you’re allowed to enjoy the sex you’re having, while you’re having it, you know.

As ever, Ed’s gift of inherent authority pulls Stede back from panic. “Oh, I do, I do enjoy it,” he pants into into his woolly cheek. He’s never enjoyed himself more, in all his life! “This is amazing…”

“Jesus Christ, you’ve got a cannon for a dick.” Ed’s eyebrows leap as he finally gets a good look at Stede, now fully erect. He sinks to his knees like a knight who just found the Grail. God, I can’t wait for you to stick this beauty in me. “Let’s polish you up. Get you loaded, and fire you off, eh?”

“I couldn’t- er- blow off your head. That’s so… gooey.”

Ed grins as he continues fisting Stede’s length to fullness. “But what a way to go!”

Stede thumps his skull back against the wall as the hot grip of Ed’s hand gives way to his burning mouth. It feels better than he ever knew. Like being the guest of honor at the party, for once. Like being eagerly awaited, then whisked through the door upon his arrival, and swept up into the merriment. His heart soars, his knees tremble, and a tear prickles in his eyes. “I can’t believe it,” he tells Ed.

Neither can my jaw, mate. Big f*cking bite, you are. But Ed is a very brave man, so he is not deterred. He eases Stede deeper, with hungry little moans. Practically feel you in my bloody lungs.

“I can barely breathe myself- I-”

Should give up my pipe. Blow smoke rings with you, instead.

“I wish you would, Ed. Oh. It can’t be any good for you…”

Oh, I’ll make it f*cking good for you, mate. Make you f*cking come for me.

Stede’s knees give beneath him, sliding him down the wall at least a foot. “f*ck.”

“Captain? Are you in here?”

“Maybe in the library?”

Two voices, in the main cabin. Stede locks all his muscles before he slips down any further.

“Ahh! Don’t come in! I’m in my changing room!” he calls out in a panic.

There’s new one for a gob, I’ve not heard…

“Uh, yeah,” says Frenchie’s voice. “That tracks. We just wondered what’s the ETD?”

This is what Stede gets for familiarizing his crew with a few handy acronyms. Never again!

“Uh. You mean for the party!” The one that Stede has completely forgotten about. He gulps and looks down at Ed for either clarity or mercy. This is a mistake, as the sight of Ed’s handsome face stuffed full of his own co*ck serves only to make him more flustered. “Gahhh, Ed! Should we still- we’re not… very late, yet. Do you have any input you’d want to, uhhh?” Stede blinks helplessly.

Do I have… input? Something I’d like to put in? Really, Stede? The corner of Ed’s eyes crinkle with mirth.

“Oh, Blackbeard’s in here?” says Oluwande.

Deviant that he is, Ed chuckles around him, making Stede pitch over and grab onto his curls, for dear life. “Heneededhelpwithhishair,” he wheezes.

“Great, then we can hash this out before Roach loses it over the wishy washy headcount for dinner.”

Rather than help run the boys off, Ed keeps at it, pumping Stede’s co*ck with gusto. Already got my dinner right here, mate. This is delish.

“I think! Roach can leave Ed out, either way! Uhm! I think we’re going toooo… do our own thing. Here. One on wuh- one.”

“So, you’re not coming?” says Frenchie, who is doing his best to parse what must be very incoherent mumblings.

Ed blinks up at Stede as innocent as a goat. Mmm, good question. Are you coming, Stede?

“Not to the party or dinner. Hnk!” Stede clenches his teeth, fighting to keep from exclaiming as Ed gives his balls a well targeted squeeze. “Yooou boys go ahead!”

“Okay,” says Oluwande. “Uh, thanks guys, I guess!”

“See ya later, Captain Blackbeard, sir.”

But there’s no sound of retreat, as they’re clearly awaiting his reply. Unfortunately, it’s not the send off they might hope for.

Ohhhmygod, are they ever gonna go? Some of us are trying to get a leg over, in here.

“Shh.” Stede gives Ed’s hair a warning tug. “He really wants you to come! Go! I mean.” Bugger. “We both just- oh, we really want you to enjoy yourselves. Okaybyebye!”

“Yeah…” But Oluwande doesn’t sound so sure. “Just checking, because I worry- this isn't like the last time we had a visiting captain and you stuck a sword through his face, is it?”

Ed squeezes in surprise. You what!?

Stede really shouldn’t look down again, but he can’t help it. Yep. Still being pleasured by Blackbeard.

“No, no, there is definitely not a sword in his face…”

“All right. Cool. Laterz!”

Thankfully there’s a click of a closing door, not long after that.

“This is bloody amazing. Stede Bonnet, you’re the last dick I ever wanna suck.”

It takes Stede a moment to register Ed has just spoken out loud, and thereby paused his efforts to drive him absolutely insane. Or perhaps redoubled them.

“Now!? You cut me slack now!?” he squeaks.

Ed only swoops and swallows him down again, glint in his eye. No. Now, I really go for it.

“Oh good God.”

As so he does. Ed pumps Stede into his mouth, just that much tighter and faster, and more desperate. Labored breath puffs at Stede’s belly, and the curls of Ed’s beard tickle against his naked, shivering thighs. All the while, Ed’s thoughts gallop along, running wild and shameless.

You’re absolutely nuts. Supremely f*ckable. I can’t wait to f*ck you during a raid. Bullets whizzing. You hike my skirts between the gunnery holes and let ‘er rip. f*ck me hard. f*ck me right off m’sea legs. f*ck the marrow out of my bones, then waltz me out across the deck in your fancy f*cking arms. Let ‘em see me turned to jelly.

“Anything,” Stede trembles. It’s so hard to think straight, but Ed is so clever, he must be right. “Anything you want, Ed, just- please- yes!”

Take me home after, and take me sweetly, too. My gentleman lover. Dress me up in all your silks and laces and have me softly.

“You’re so lovely, of course, of course-”

f*ck. f*ck. Call me lovely again. Call me sweet. Ed moans on him, and slips his spare hand into his own fall front. The head of his dusky co*ck peeks out from its hiding place and oh, Stede likes the look of it, very much.

“My lovely. My sweet, sweet Ed. You’re the loveliest man I’ve ever known. Hhff! I should take you in my arms and never let you go…”

“Oh f*ck,” Ed gasps off of him. He throws his head back, drawing out the miles of skin from his collar bone to his waist. He neglects Stede’s co*ck and only strokes himself for a moment, but Stede doesn’t begrudge him at all.

“What a vision you are. Yes, yes… Let me see you, lovely.”

“Oh f*ck, Stede…” Ed whines and whimpers, his breathing wrecked. God, this one’s been brewing. Been watching you prance around all day. You drive me crazy.

“I know, I know,” Stede nods. “I liked it, you looking. I know that now…”

“I like you looking,” Ed shoots right back at him. You mad little minx.

Whether he’s feeling Ed’s climax in absence of clear thought, or just the agonizing approach of his own, Stede couldn’t quite say. All he knows is it’s truly heart rending, tearing him open and making a secret passage where Ed will forevermore be able to sneak into his thoughts. Unforgettable, legendary, lovely Ed.

“Unh!” Ed grits his teeth.

“Yesss,” Stede hisses, watching his ecstatic delight as raptly as if it was his own. He combs into Ed’s hair with two tender hands to show proper adoration. “Oh yes, Ed. Such a sweet darling-”

“Hhf*ck. Oh God, Stede,” Ed breathes as his fervor peaks. So f*cking good… It’s never been this f*cking good. “Ohhhhf*ckf*ckf*ck.”

Without further ado, Ed’s come splashes the floor. The sight sends a thrill up Stede’s spine.

“Just beautiful.” Stede scratches into Ed’s scalp soothingly until he comes ‘round. “What a show.”

Ed wobbles on his knees, then spent but still unsated, he leans back in. “C’mon,” He urges, kissing Stede's belly. Your turn. Your show. He kisses the tip of Stede’s co*ck and laps at the dribble that runs over his fingers. “Give it to me, lover. Blow me away.”

“I’m so close,” Stede shudders. “But your face…”

Oh, hell yeah. Ed cups his tongue right at the point of him, ready to receive. “Ruin my beard for all I care. Just wanna see you come your lunatic brains out.”

“Ah!” Inspired, Stede wraps a hand around his own hilt, and helps jerk into Ed’s mouth. “Is this what- ah- what you want?”

Oh yeah, gorgeous. Ohhh, yeah. Just what I want.

With just a few of their rapid, combined strokes, Stede fulfills his desire. Relief rushes through him, better and brighter than any he’s felt in his recently quite harrowing life. What was he so nervous for? How was he so blind? If this, this huge, glittering feeling is what’s possible when he and Ed don’t hold back, he should’ve been able to see it from a hundred miles off, even in the dark. A wondrous palace they could live in, together.

That’s it, lover. Thaaat’s it. Ed kisses his co*ck until it flags, then starts crawling his way back up from the floor. “You’re brilliant,” he nuzzles into Stede’s panting chest. “Definitely getting lucky again tonight…”

Stede gratefully gathers Ed into his arms, even if he tucks a sticky face into his neck. “Tonight!?”

“And in the morning.” And the afternoon after that. And that night. And again at midnight…

Now, Stede is beginning to get a handle on Ed’s penchant for hyperbole. He doesn’t really mean to make a marathon of it- Stede understands that. He just means he likes him, awfully much.

…But perhaps after a little lie down.

Stede might actually be the most fascinating, most beautiful, most peculiar man alive. It's only because the fates knew that Ed had worlds to conquer first, that it took this long for them to meet. f*ck tallying up compensation for dismemberments and making sure the Adventure is stocked for fire fight at the drop of a hat. All Ed wants to do from here on out is lounge in bed with Stede, giggling over what a poor shot they both are, and throwing grapes into each other’s mouths.

“Unfair advantage,” Stede claims. “Your beard funnels the- the air or something. All those curls are like a bloody whirlpool. Grapes can’t help but fall into your mouth!”

“Can’t help but fall in!?” Ed grins at him. “Did your dick tell you that?”

Stede clears his throat primly, despite the fact that he is half naked and they are currently sharing in the languor following a tryst. It’s f*cking adorable.

“Yes, yes, you’re very impressive,” he says. “No misses. But how many grapes can you fit at once?” Stede narrows his eyes at Ed.

“Reckon I just gave a demonstration of my skill in that department.”

Stede’s cheeks go deliciously pink. “All right, then how many can you fit in your armpit, without crushing?” he challenges instead.

“Next to none,” Ed boasts. He curls and flexes an arm. “Too many muscles.”

Stede’s mouth pulls into a lopsided performance of skepticism. “Hmm. I don’t know... Perhaps another demonstration?”

Without further ado, Ed stretches a leg backward, rolling his weight over the edge of the bed. Just as soon as his feet hit the floor, he pounces, dragging Stede off the mattress and scooping him into his arms. It’s incredible, how it feels like he’s bearing a torch the size of the sun every time. Stede is the embodiment of warmth and light.

“The grapes!” Stede yelps as they bounce down, all over the floor.

Immediately, Ed crushes one underfoot, but Stede will come to no such harm. Ed holds him close, and secure. Like when we first met. With their bare chests aligned, he knows Stede will be thinking it, too. Had to haul you out of there before the Spanish sank. Had to save the most interesting man I’d ever set eyes on. Most beautiful, most harebrained-

“I think you’ve made your point!” Stede kicks his feet, ready to be let down at any moment.

“This muscly enough for you?” Ed asks, whirling them around.

Stede answers by flinging an arm around his neck to hold tight. “Quite!” he exhales, excitedly. Then he drags him into a kiss.

I can be strong for you. Be anything. Sweep you off your feet, or toss a bloke overboard. Either, or, ya know?

“Mmmff…”

Without breaking their kiss, Ed staggers and bumps blindly away from the minefield of grapes, towards the couch.

Gotta lay you down, crawl all over you, get you hard, and-

The door swings open. Surprised, Ed drops Stede on the couch with a noisy creak of its innards.

“Lucky us, Captain’s away, eh?” says Lucius, backing into the room. His fingers are hooked into someone’s clothes, who he pulls along with him.

“Wow, this is a nice room!” giggles a familiar voice.

Fang. It’s f*cking Fang. One of his own crew giggling his way into the cabin to get off with one of Stede’s. The nerve! They haven’t even technically done that yet- the closet is separate, it doesn’t count!

“Lads…” Ed growls, straightening up slowly and bracing his hands on his thank f*cking sh*t still leather clad hips. “Hope you’re here with business to report!”

“Boss!” Fang startles, first clocking Ed and then the scrambling, equally bare chested Stede.

“Monkey business,” Lucius hisses under his breath. Then he shakes himself. “Uhhh- I didn’t realize-”

“Everyone thinks you’ve gone to the other ship,” says Fang.

Ed lifts an imperious eyebrow. “Let’s keep it that way.”

“That’s right, you never saw us,” Stede chimes in. "We're not in!"

Not yet, lover.

“Right!” says Lucius. “Never mind!” Right away, he starts battering on Fang’s shoulder with his notebook to reverse them out the door.

Oblivious, Fang grins wide, glancing between Stede and Ed. “Happy for ya!” he says, giving them a thumbs up. “We should all get together sometime. Date night!”

Ed glowers. “Is it time for us to get together and talk about your future, Fang?”

“Oh sh*t.” That gets Fang moving. “No, no, that’s all right!” he says, backing out the door with his shoulders hiked up to his ears.

“I didn’t think so…”

The door shuts again, and Stede sits up, bewildered. “His future?” he questions. “Your crew know about, uh-?” He wiggles his fingers.

“Pfft.” Ed flings himself into the other end of the couch as he untenses. “‘Course they do. Keeps ‘em all in line.”

“By knowing how they die?”

“Well! Some you want to tell outright and some you want to let dangle until it suits your purposes,” Ed clarifies.

“Ah, an incentive program!” says Stede. He nods understandingly. He always understands these sorts of things. He’s f*cking great. “Always a useful tool for workplace cohesion.”

“Exactly.”

“Anything… interesting in this particular case?”

“With Fang?” Ed shrugs. “Y’seen one death on the commode, you’ve seen ‘em all.”

“I suppose you could do worse,” says Stede. “Oh, but I can’t imagine my crew knowing about me. I never told anyone until now,” he claims. “You don’t think that’s cowardly, do you?”

Ed frowns. “No judgement! S’hard to put that genie back in the bottle, once people know.”

“Mmm, too true,” Stede hums. “Though, I did sometimes think maybe my parents suspected, with the way they kept me at arm’s length all my life... I can count on one hand- one finger?- one hangnail- the number of times my mother ever hugged me...”

Ed finds Stede’s fingertips among the couch cushions and hooks into them, for comfort. It’s so easy to give, when their every touch does the same for him. You were just a kid. That's so f*cking sad.

For a moment, Stede struggles with a memory, his expression shadowy, then he looks back up at Ed through a curtain of fallen hair. “Were you very young when it started, too?” he asks. “What a burden for a child...”

Ed nods, slowly. “Young as I can remember. I could see my parents’ deaths. Not that I understood it, at first,” he says. “Thought it was nightmares.”

“Right…” Stede pats his hand lightly, allowing him to pull away, but Ed doesn’t. “You can tell me if you want to. I’ll listen.”

No one’s ever asked! Ed's lips don't even know how to move with the words, but that doesn't really matter.

Mum. She was quiet and clean. Born on a jewel of an island on the other side of the world, only to be beat to sh*t on a dirt floor. Screaming. Crying. Husband, please. Please, husband! Don’t! Please! Please! But he never stopped, that f*cking monster. Like Dad didn’t already terrorize us enough day to f*cking day without that vision hanging over my head!

“Edward…” Stede’s fingers squeeze around his, dispelling the darkness.

Don’t have to say it. Oh f*ck, with you I don’t have to say it, thank you, thank you- Ed clutches him back and forces his globby, choked up throat clear. Only by the grace of Stede’s presence, by the reassuring glow of his touch and his understanding can Ed get his mouth around the rest of it. “My dad, I saw- I saw myself killing him. Strangling him with some rope, by the docks,” he tells Stede, his voice cracking. “I was just a lad, and already I knew I was meant to be just as much a monster!”

“Oh, no.” Stede moves in his seat so he can rub Ed’s knee, too. Both hands offered in comfort, by a man who has only just learned to touch at all. “Oh, my dear Ed. That’s awful, but- you can’t compare! You mustn’t!”

Ed takes up both his hands like it could make it all clearer, because he has to explain and he has to explain correctly. “I thought I could choose,” he says. “When I was young. I thought maybe I could stop him…”

Stede makes a mournful sound. “So you went ahead and did it before he could kill her,” he says, sparing Ed from having to think the words. He doesn’t shrink away, now that the murderous horror is revealed. If anything he leans in closer to Ed. “I don’t blame you,” he whispers.

That makes one of us. Ed sniffles. “Thing is. I didn’t count on Mum remarrying. It was inevitable,” he tells Stede. It’s all inevitable.

After that, he knew.

Stede crosses the rest of the distance and gathers Ed into his arms, presses a kiss to his wet cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he says, holding him. Enveloping him in his ease. “I’m so, so sorry, my darling.”

Ed burrows his face into Stede’s shoulder and lets out a sob. He lets Stede hold him for a long time, through thoughts he’s barely let himself hear since he was a child. He lets go of the fear he’ll never be loved as he once was, and that he’ll have to run death’s gauntlet forever, perpetually numbing himself to keep its sharpest pangs at bay. With these unburdened arms, he holds Stede back. There is tenderness, and hope, and peace. It’s right here, and even more tangible than the worst of his visions.

f*cking sappy is what it is. But that's all right.

Ed pulls back after a while, to keep from bombarding Stede with every damned emotion ever, all in one sitting. It’s hard, being like them, and feeling so much. Minutes of contact can be as exhausting as hours. God knows how long Ed worked at it before he could stand to bed anyone, all the way through. Not that he foresees any trouble with that here… but let the man build his strength!

“No, no, it’s no trouble. It’s all right!” Stede tries to assure him. But he does seem a little extra sweaty, over on the other end of the couch.

“Mhmm, and what’s the longest you’ve ever touched anyone?” Ed asks skeptically.

Stede huffs, lightly affronted. “I used to hold my children for hours when they were babies!”

Ed chuckles. “I’m sure their wicked little baby thoughts were very taxing.”

“Fair point.” Finally, Stede exhales and allows himself to slump into the pillowy end of the couch. “Maybe it is a bit of work out,” he admits. “But I promise you, I’m glad for it.”

“I know, mate,” Ed smiles. “I remember how many sittings it took to finish my first ink, ‘cause the lad doing it was bound to drown.”

“Eugh,” Stede cringes.

“Drownings are always horrible. I had to get up and stick my head into the wind just to breathe, six, seven times,” he tells Stede. “Just for this measly little anchor!”

Stede fans himself as if to alleviate his own shortness of breath. “Gosh. I don’t know how you can stand to touch anyone,” he says, wearily. “I must have gone entire years avoiding it, myself. But that does tend to stir up even more awkwardness, at a certain point...”

“Sure. S’rude not to shake hands,” Ed agrees with a frown. “And punching is so much quicker.”

“You- you’re not- well you are overwhelming to touch,” says Stede, “but not in a way I’d avoid!” He hastily sits up to explain, lest he be misunderstood. “You’re so invigorating to be near, Ed. And to hear… It can be a lot to take on board, but. It’s what I’ve always wanted to hear, I think.“

Ed leans across the length of the couch, and gives Stede’s cheek a quick stroke. You're all right, mate. I get it.

Stede’s lips tremble into a smile. “Thank you.”

“I mean, gloves help!” Ed laughs. “Should’ve been a f*ckin’ glover, maybe, instead of a pirate…”

“Like my man Shakespeare,” Stede smirks. He knows how it makes Ed jealous. Until two days ago, Ed thought he must be an old flame of Stede’s, the way he went on and on about the bloke.

“Now there’s a man who should have been a pirate, by name,” Ed grumbles. Such a waste.

Stede smooths over mention of his damned bard by fawning over Ed, instead. He twists to press kisses to his hand, where it lays along top of the couch. Take that, Shakespeare. “You have such elegant hands,” Stede says. “I’m glad I get to see them, and sorry you do wear gloves so often.”

“Why don’t you?” Ed asks. He has been curious.

“I suppose it’s because I fear a sort of Midas touch effect,” Stede sighs. “If I shut this out,” he says, flexing his fingers, “if I turned all the world, all I touched into gloves… I should no longer be able to enjoy the brush of silk, or the polish of a banister, or the alive way that flowers, and leaves, and grass all beg to be touched.”

Stede Bonnet. He’s so brave, isn’t he? The way he’s ceaselessly suffered humanity’s brutal highs and lows, and still kept so good. It’s so admirable that- even damned as he may be- Stede insists on deserving little blessings. Ed would even go a step further and say that he loves him for it.

Well. He will say it, when the time is right.

Meanwhile, Ed can think of nothing he wants more than to drink up every detail of the man he can get. How he drapes his robe around his knees, just so, when he sits. How he always has some flowery turn of phrase at the tip of his tongue. How such a miracle as he could come to be, in this hellish world.

“So,” Ed hums, propping his head up in one hand. “How did you come to be a pirate instead of a poet?”

“Oh, it’s- it’s not very interesting,” Stede says at first.

“Come on, mate. I keep no secrets from you.”

Stede gives him a pointed look. “Because you physically cannot.”

“If that’s the way you wanna be about it,” Ed grins. “I could get my knife and we could do this the hard way…”

“No, no, I want to tell you, I do,” Stede insists. He settles in, too, leaning his head into his hand. “It’s just you have to promise. No vendettas! You can’t go avenging me on anyone,” he orders.

Ed gasps. “I thought you said it wasn’t interesting! Now there’s players in this I’ll want to hunt down and murder?!”

Stede rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Promise, Edward!”

Ed huffs. He would love to do something as generous for Stede in return for his many gifts, but fine. “Promise,” he swears.

That satisfies Stede. He draws a deep breath through his noble little nose, and launches in. “Well, you see, in just one generation of sugar planting, my family became entirely too wealthy for its own good- for anyone’s good, really! And try as I might, my father never thought I’d be adequate to manage the estate after he was gone- so I was married into a family that had been at the game longer.”

Ed fakes a snore. “You were right the first time, this is boring.”

Stede snorts. “Well- yes. The lack of dramatic enrichment is partly to blame for my fall from grace, I’m sure…”

“Go on!”

“So, I was married to Mary, in the hopes of producing a wiser heir,” says Stede. “But, it was arranged, and not what either of us wanted. One of us, even more painfully aware of it than the other…”

“Uh oh.”

Stede’s gaze has drifted away, in unmistakable shame. He fixes on a spot on the carpet, like he could bore a hole through it to escape through at a moment’s notice. “If you can imagine, for me, what it’s like being with a woman who loathes your touch with her every thought, but needs you to father her children- children that may also be born cursed like this, for all I knew…”

“f*cking hell,” Ed shudders. “A f*cking Greek god wouldn’t be able to get it up, and they f*ck f*cking trees and swans and sh*t! You’re better off without the splinters.”

Stede brightens some at the joke, and Ed’s heart squeezes.

“I only ever got on with it because of her parents,” he says. “They came for dinner one night, shook my hand, and then I knew. They’d made plans to have me killed, so Mary could resuit with someone who would do his duty.”

“There it is,” Ed growls darkly. Yeah, yeah- he promised, and all- but that doesn’t stop his hackles from being raised! Someone tried to sink this dreamboat before he ever got his mitts on him! “What're their names? You sure you don’t want me to kill them?” he asks.

Stede lays a steadying hand on his knee. “It’s all behind me now,” he assures Ed, with a pat. “And anyway, once I crossed that bridge, so to speak, it was much easier for Mary to camouflage an affair! What a relief for everyone, really.”

“New meaning to ‘taking a load off’,” Ed mutters.

“Until I picked up my boy one day, and- well, he’s not truly my boy, I always knew that,” Stede says, softly. “But to hear him think it… Think that he preferred my wife’s lover...” Stede sniffles at the betrayal, but he presses on. “That's when I decided to leave home. If they had the heirs they wanted now. If no one wanted me, no one even liked me- why was I there?”

There’s no stopping himself, not when Stede is so unguarded. Who is Blackbeard, if not one to charge through a broken line of defense? Ed lunges across the way and takes Stede’s face in his hands for a kiss.

‘Cause you weren’t here with me yet.

Stede comes away from the kiss starry eyed. “That answers that, then,” he smiles.

There really is no sound as beautiful as the crackle of Stede’s happy laugh, and the sun has begun to set, lighting all of his golden tones afire. He is, all together, a hearth that Ed would sit beside forever.

“Still haven’t answered me, though,” Ed points out.

Stede stares dazedly at his lips. “…No?”

“Why be a pirate?

“Right!”

“Why not a- a haberdasher or a traveling plowright?”

Stede blinks. “Well, I don't know how to make plows, for a start.”

“S’not that hard,” Ed tells him. “You’d be a natural, if this breaks bad.”

“Oh really?” Stede completely falls for it. “I do like to think of myself as mechanically intuitive…”

“I’ll say! You could suss out how to plow me, any day,” Ed grins.

Stede chokes a laugh and goes oh so pretty pink. “You’re a terrible nuisance.”

“According to several crowns, yes,” Ed gloats. “But why piracy?” he asks, once again.

“Ah. See, I did love to play pirates with the children, and- they liked me, when we played,” Stede says. “That cinched it, I think.”

After all that lead up, that really is the most charming reason Ed could possibly imagine. Certainly the most relatable.

“I like playing pirates with you, too,” he tells Stede, in a tender hush. “This is the best time I’ve had at sea in ages. Maybe ever. Even before you jumped me in the closet.”

“Now just a moment!” Stede’s eyebrows leap. “Who jumped who?!”

“You drew your sword first, that should count for something.”

“My ‘sword’!” Stede squirms in his seat, at the reminder.

“Nearly ran me through. An unarmed man!” Ed licks his lips and lays back into the corner of the couch, stretching out all his bare flesh as tantalizingly as he knows how.

Like a magnet, Stede is drawn forward, following him. “May attack you again, if you keep casting aspersions on my good character like this…”

“You’re a f*cking fiend, mate,” Ed smolders at him. “Pure evil.”

Right for the jugular!

“Evil!” Stede seethes in mock scandal. "I'll show you evil!"

As was threatened, he crawls over Ed, one hand fencing his body into the cushions, then another. Then a knee, and another knee. As their skin slides into contact, all the hair on Ed’s body raises.

He rushes to touch Stede, too, plunging his hands into his hair and exploiting those silky curls. “Mate, I’m about to have zero f*cking chill, so may as well tell, I f*cking want you inside me.” Ed slots a leg between Stede’s and grinds with him. I want to take you in. Let you burn me up inside out. Just the idea of you, in my mind, in my body, shining in all my dark corners, knowing me better than anyone…

Stede ghosts his mouth up Ed’s chest, his breath warm and rapid. “I want you terribly, Ed. But you can say, any time, if you’d rather not. If it’s too much...”

“So can you,” Ed swears, even if it’s not in his increasingly hard dick’s interests. He pulls Stede’s hair just enough to make them look at each other eye to eye. “We don’t hafta f*ck. We could just be like this. Just kiss and squeeze. I’m just warnin’, my mind’s sure as hell gonna go there, with or without us.”

“Let me see,” Stede insists, bending to kiss him.

Ed groans and smashes their lips together even faster. He drags his desperate hands- elegant, you called them elegant- down Stede’s back, until he reaches his arse. He pulls them even closer, hip to juddering hip. Kiss me, hold me, fill me, f*ck me, surround me, make me feel alive, make me feel like I could go on living forever. Make me yours. Make me young again, and yours, and old and gray, and yours, and yours, and yours, and you’re mine because you’re f*cking inside me!

When they come back up for air, the sun has set, shrinking the room and wrapping them in their own little shadow. Stede looks down at Ed, and he’s the only other thing in the darkness, in the whole world.

“Your mind is… very persuasive,” he says.

Ed figured it would be. “Talks me into all the risky sh*t I do,” he shrugs.

With a chuckle, Stede kisses him again, softly. “But you’re no risk,” he murmurs. “I’m sure about you.”

“Yeah?” Ed gulps. How sure?

“I'd wager my ship on you, at least,” Stede smiles. “Anything less would be an insult.”

“Bah!” Ed grins and begins pulling at the laces at the back of Stede’s breeches. “Don’t bother me with trifles. What else?”

Stede kneels off the couch, for now, to shimmy free of his clothes. “Hmm,” he squints. “I have no less than one hundred bars of gold aboard...”

Ed’s eyes almost pop out of his skull, half at the sight of Stede’s bobbing dick and half at the treasures unseen. “f*cking where?”

Stede snickers. “There are eight sewn into the belly of this very couch…”

“Jesus buggering Christ.” Ed was already so hard his pants were strangling him, but this is ridiculous. He scrambles even more frantically to undo his buttons. “You’re f*cking me over this couch, Stede.”

“Surely, the bed-”

Ed stops tearing at his pants and raises his hands in a gesture of full disclosure. “Unless there’s even more gold in the bed, I will be thinking about the couch the entire time.”

Gorgeous, generous, obliging, mouth-wateringly naked Stede smiles an indulgent smile. “I really don’t think I have it in me to deny you.” He bends and braces his hands on the back of the couch, on either side of Ed’s continued effort to peel his pants off.

Why are they so tight?!

“Any other demands, my lovely?” Stede asks, a heartbeat away from his ear.

“Hng,” Ed shivers. Stede’s truly evil, just as he said. “What’ve you got for oil?”

Stede straightens up again and plucks at his lip to consider. “The most expensive is probably the rose oil… I must have paid fifty doubloons a vial.”

“It’s just for your prick, mate!” Ed clarifies. “If you want to go poking your thorn in my garden…”

“Ah!” Stede palms his forehead. “More disposable, yes! Just a moment.”

As Ed watches him rush through the shadows to the en suite, he has no doubt Stede would have squandered a prize oil on his arse, if he’d let him. He’d give Ed the gold and the ship, too. But a ship without Stede on it is just a ship- even the Revenge. Roses give Ed a headache, and he’s already rich as a mint. All Ed really wants from the man is his heart.

And his dick. Gotta get these f*cking pants off.

When Stede returns, tray in hand, Ed could just about swoon.

“A wash bowl and powder and everything? Am I to be presented to the King?”

Stede lays his things on the table just behind the couch, his brow gathered. “Hmph. You’re the only king I know,” he says. “I intend to treat you as such.”

Yeah, Ed is definitely gonna cry by the end of this. He already broke the seal, earlier. Rookie mistake, that.

But he stands and reaches for his adoring, too good for him lover without shame. “You would’ve had me even if you came back in here with a slab of tallow,” he says, slipping up against him.

“Me, bring you tallow!” Stede objects. He wraps his arms around Ed and traces along the curves of his spine. “Careful, Ed. That would have been a stranger, in your arms.”

“No, no. You’re no stranger,” Ed mumbles into Stede’s neck. Your brain’s my favorite brain. Your freckles are my favorite freckles. Your sigh’s my favorite sigh. Ed slides his hands down. Your arse is my favorite arse. You’re you.

Stede draws a shaky breath. “You’re my favorite person, too,” he says, mystified. Like he never knew that he could find such a thing.

He’s not the only one.

“Never knew I could be anyone’s favorite,” Ed admits. Might have to cry again, right f*cking now.

“Oh, Edward.”

“Stede,” he whispers, pulling him back, towards the couch. “C’mon, fetch us that oil, then.”

“Right. Of course. It’s coconut, by the way!” Stede chatters. “I’ve always liked the smell. I haven’t used it for- well, I’ve really only use it to keep my heels soft, truth be told. I don’t really use anything when I’m- when I’m alone. The way I was raised, premeditation only made it… Sorry! You don’t want to hear about that.”

“If you think I don’t want to hear all about how you wank, you’re out of your mind,” Ed moans. He folds one knee onto the couch and waits at Stede’s side. He smears kisses at his shoulder and teases his co*ck while Stede fiddles with a jar. Bet you think it’s naughty, touching yourself. But that’s the fun of being an outlaw, mate. We eat naughty for breakfast.

“I’m just a little jittery!” Stede excuses himself. “And not… entirely sure what I’m doing…”

At least they’ve each got a palmful of oil, now. Ed uses his to slather Stede, while he kisses him again. Be nervous. Be a little too chatty. Be weird. I like you weird. I like you nattering on, he tries to impart. You could f*ck me while reciting the names of all the f*cking popes and it’d still be the best lay of my life.

“Saccharum officinarum,” says Stede.

Ed grins and gives his dick an extra hearty pump. “Ohh, I bet he was a dirty old bastard,” he purrs. “Buggered his lover in the baptismal font every day, and twice on Sunday.”

Stede puffs. “No, its- ah! What you were saying about me poking in your garden…”

“Mm! That works, too.” Ed turns and flops himself over the back of the couch, arse up. “Come plant your seed in me,” he begs.

“Sugar cane is propagated by cuttings, actually, but- all the same,” says Stede. He comes up behind Ed and smooths a reverent hand over his backside. “Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

“Don’t know how else to work in a garden than on my knees,” Ed says with a wiggle. You can lay me back later, mate. Or I’ll lay you…

Stede lets loose an exquisite little yelp. “Oh yes. Yes, I’d very much like that, too.” He bends to kiss at Ed’s back, a shiver inspiring diversion bested only by the slip of slick fingers down his crack. “You’re a perfect patch of heaven,” Stede says, lips wandering down a wild path. “Mmm. I could stay here forever. Tend you. Make you flower. Beautiful Ed…”

“Yes,” Ed shivers, at his touch. Make me feel so pretty. Fingertips flit past Ed’s hole, over and over, and oil runs cool down his balls.

“I'll take care of you-”

-Such a good caretaker. Wanna show off for you. Burst with life.

“So lush…” Stede whispers lightly. A little too lightly.

“C’mon already, mate. Put down your roots,” Ed asks, desperate for more. Inside me, inside me. Stick your fingers in.

Stede makes a hungry sound, deep in his throat. “Must make a furrow,” he murmurs, as he dips in. For all his earlier hesitation, he now heads right for the mark, pushing his slick fingers as deep as he can. “Make it nice and wet for planting…”

“Hhh!” Ed’s dick twitches like a puppet with a pulled string. “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he whines. “Make it wet! Nngg, Stede…”

“Now, isn’t that something?” Stede’s other arm circles around, to stroke down Ed’s chest and belly. “Am I doing it right? Making you ready?”

“f*cking great,” Ed assures him. M’ready to bust my nut just like this. “I’m in f*cking season or whatever the f*ck if you want to- to- ah ah!”

Stede plays his fingertips just inside his tight entrance, making Ed’s stomach flip, and flip, and flip with every pluck at the muscle. “Oh, come now, I rather like the feel of this. You fidgeting on my fingers. Let’s not be too hasty.”

“Uhhhhn.” Ed can’t complain. Might start drooling though. “Whatever you say.”

“I am a pirate now. Aren’t I supposed to mark the spot well, when I dig in someplace?” To illustrate, Stede shoves his fingers in, at length.

“Yeah! Oh, please. Oh, f*ck.” Ed whimpers. Just want you so f*cking bad. Want you so deep you can’t get out. Could be locked in a trunk at the bottom of a hole with you and be happy.

“I know, I know.” Stede keeps fingering him for good measure, warming him up as well as he has thawed Ed’s heart. “But isn’t this nice? Taking the time? Touching?”

“Uh huh. Unh. f*ck.” Ed nods, making his hair slip down from his back and hang in swinging tendrils. “I want to- to savor like you do,” he says. The little things. The in betweens.

“Mmm. Process makes perfect,” Stede hums.

“Isn’t it ‘practice’?”

Ed can actually hear Stede’s grin, even if he can’t see it. “We can have plenty practice too, I promise.”

All of it makes Ed’s spine quake loose. The fingers, the promises. Ed can relax. Stede wants him now, and again, and again. This is really real. You really want me, too.

“Of course I do…”

“Say it again,” Ed gasps. “And press your fingers-”

“Here?”

“Ah!” Ed jolts and shudders loose again. f*cking dick.

“I want you, Edward. More than anything I’ve ever wanted for myself,” Stede speaks fervently. “But I want to be with you- for you, too. I want to take care of you. Make sure you have everything you need and deserve. Make sure you’re never without comfort. I want to give you… pleasure and peace.”

It was always going to be a flip of a coin whether Ed would start leaking from heads or tails, first. Ed’s eyes win the toss. “Now, man!” he cries. “Take me now.”

Stede is nothing if not an enthusiast. He lines himself up and begins pressing in before the tears can finish rolling down Ed’s nose. “Yes, darling, yes…”

“Gnng. Yep.” Relax, relax, Ed tells himself. Be the garden. Gardens are calm. Gardens are inviting…

“Ohh, yes you are,” Stede breathes. He makes no secret of his desire to sink deep, with the way he grips Ed’s hips like a vise, but he still takes his time. He takes Ed as carefully as one might take a breath, just before saying something very delicate, indeed. “You have such- such beauty inside of you, such gentleness and curiosity and wit. I hope you know. Oh, Edward…”

“Hhhhggod, I dunno ‘bout anything but your dick, r’now…” Big. Big. Very big. Very good but very big.

Stede laughs. “All right. I’m sorry, dear. I’ll keep it simple-”

“Oh, thank f*ck.”

“You feel… so amazing.”

Ed grits his teeth, bracing himself. “You feel huge.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that,” Stede says, sounding awfully smug. “But you’re up for any challenge, aren’t you?”

“M-might… have to retire after this one. Guh!” Ed pants. “Oh, oh!”

Stede relaxes his grip on Ed’s hips somewhat and rubs his cheeks in circles. “You’re so good, Ed, so good.”

Yeah. f*ck. I’m yours, so I must be.

“You’ve nearly taken it all.”

As Ed acclimates, he pushes back, too. “Yeah. Yeah. C’mon. C’mon and f*ckin’ bury it.”

“God,” Stede grunts, with his first true thrust.

“Ohf*ck!” Ed cries. “Ohh. Ohohohhh…” We’re f*cking. We’re f*cking f*cking, f*cking finally, oh holy f*ck.

As they give and take, Stede’s inherent warmth and light come seeping in, flooding Ed’s senses. If he could stand outside his body, he would expect to see it shining out between all his crevices, like light streaming through slats in a shoddy wall. He should flicker with every push of their bodies.

While they’re still in slow but perfect unity, Ed pushes off of the back of the couch and straightens up, so he can have Stede pressed all along him, for a moment. “Can you feel how I feel?” he asks.

Stede hooks his chin over Ed’s shoulder and swarms his hands up his body. A flutter to match the soft but frantic stir of his hips. “Yes. Yes,” he says. “I never knew it could be like this. Hhh. Being so desired is so…”

“f*cking hot?”

The kisses at Ed’s neck pose no argument.

God, it’s like I can see it so clearly. You.

“Mmmne?” Stede murmurs, too squashed in a nuzzle to properly articulate.

Like I’m right there.

“You are right here.” Hard not to be aware when they’re like this, after all.

Ed reaches back and grabs hold of Stede’s hair to drag him into a sloppy, discombobulated kiss.

Dunno if I’m really in the room with you at the end or if I’m a ghost. But I’m there when you go. I am. It feels f*cking amazing. Sounds f*cked up when you’re dick deep inside of me, but- it’s not like I’m getting off on geezer Stede cashing it in. S’more like- feeling the life well lived. There’s love in the room, and I’m there. Wrapped up in all that bloody afternoon light, even now.

“I feel it, too,” Stede whispers. “Ed…”

Oh f*ck. Can’t help it. “I can’t stop myself thinking- I love you,” Ed blurts out.

Stede squeezes his arms around him. f*cks him straight through to the heart, and huffs, “Then don’t stop.”

“f*ck no. Never,” Ed swears. He covers Stede’s hands over his own heart.

“The more I know you, I can’t help but love you, Ed.”

Ed melts then, oozing back down to the couch. He’s too happy to have bones. To full of Stede’s stiff prick to need ‘em, anyway.

This is f*cking crazy. It’s all he can think. It’s f*cking crazy we found each other.

“Fortunately,” Stede huffs, “crazy is our specialty. So let’s go crazy, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Ed whines. “Ohhhhgodyeah.”

Neither can help but pick up pace, thrilled as they are to be so in step. Fingers pinch and flesh smacks, and Ed’s weeping co*ck casts off pearly drops of his pleasure in every direction.

Stede, Stede, Stede-

“Oh, Ed. Hff! I can’t touch enough of you. Oh, let me have you more. Mhnn…”

More so good don’t stop f*ck there right there right there-

After a few more alternatingly rowdy and sweet minutes on the couch, Ed finds himself clean and content in the bed. He falls asleep curled beside Stede, and dreams of nothing but snoozy hours spent swinging together in a hammock.

Breeze blown flowers.

Half baked jokes.

Golden light.

If it weren’t for such a sound f*cking followed by a good night’s rest, he would be murderously uncharitable upon waking in the morning. He’s bloody starving, and someone is pounding on the cabin door.

“He’s gotta be in there. What the f*ck have you done with him, Bonnet?!”

Ed makes no move to recover the blankets he kicked off in their sleep, and remains stretched out on top of Stede like a dragon on its horde. “You don’t wanna come in here, unless you have tea, Izzy,” he warns.

The door finally crashes open, any respect for the Captain’s privacy as worn out as Izzy’s patience. Stede jerks awake at the noise, rolling out from under Ed, in all his glory. “What’s the idea, bursting in here, like- wuah!”

“Oh my God,” Izzy gasps in horror.

Ed lands in the pillows behind Stede and pats his arm, in apology. Not the way I imagined our morning after, but here goes…

Izzy raises a hand to block the sight of their nakedness, but even that’s not enough. “Oh my God. With Bonnet?!” he shrieks, turning around on his heel, entirely. “I’m gonna be sick…”

“Well, I s’pose you’re old enough to learn your lesson, Iz,” Ed sighs. “Don’t barge in on Mum and Dad first thing in the morning, ‘less you’re ready to see an eyeful.”

“He’s only lucky it wasn’t an arseful,” Stede grumbles.

“Mmm.” Ed snickers a kiss into his shoulder. I’d be the lucky one. “M’sure Izzy is just leaving…”

“Yes! And if he has any decency, he might send for breakfast,” Stede snaps.

“This is how I die!” Izzy goes on. “Heart attack…”

Ed rolls his eyes. “Cry me a river- it’s just a dick! You've seen 'em before! How long’ve you been a pirate, man?”

“How long have you?!” Izzy almost chances a glance over his shoulder, but thinks better of it. “And now this is why you’re retiring? So you can loll around on this toddle toy of a boat with a bunch of halfwits? Be this fussy fop’s little lapdog? You know he’ll kick you to the curb soon as you shed on the furniture, yeah?”

“Heh.” Stede sits up, so he can drag the covers back up the bed. “I rather liked when you did that,” he smirks at Ed.

Ed could go an extra ten minutes without breakfast, powered off that smirk alone. Ability to roll with the punches; restored.

He looks back to Izzy. “Look, mate. Something had to give. Maybe it’s not retirement, or maybe it is! Maybe it was just too much, alone,” he says. “I wanna sail with Stede, either way.”

“‘Alone!’ You think you’ve been alone all these years!” That finally gets Izzy to turn back around. He scowls at the two of them, tucked up together, and still too elated from last night to commit to scowling back. “You don’t know anything about him!” Izzy points at Stede. “He could have gout that comes and goes! He could be a gambler and fritter away all these trinkets you fancy. He could be married!”

Ed slips an arm across Stede’s chest, turning his chin to look back at him. “He could be married, yeah…” To someone who’d love him properly. Never shy from his touch. Crave it, every f*cking minute we’re apart.

“Oh Ed!” Stede happily opens his arms for Ed to slide on top of him once more. “Really?”

“We could have a proper pirate wedding,” Ed grins. “With knife-point vows, a towering cake built up with bones, and f*ckin’ fireworks!” Say yes, say yes, say yes…

“Oh, kiss me!” Stede demands, tugging Ed to him.

That works, too!

Izzy is not as moved by this proposal. “It’s been eight days!”

Stede sighs up at Ed. “That’s eight times as long as my last pre-engagement. To scale, we’re due eighty years of marriage.”

Eighty. A hundred. A thousand. Ed nods and turns to Izzy, a moment. “That’s just maths, mate. You love maths!” He turns back and kisses Stede quick, again. “He’s always counting up how many boats we’ve captured. Pfft!”

Izzy makes a popping sound like a kettle that’s been tampered with by Wee John. “Count your own f*ckin’ boats!”

With that, and a kick at a poor defenseless chair, he leaves.

f*ck ‘im.

“No, thank you,” Stede grimaces. He reaches up to Ed’s face and tucks his hair behind his ears. “You know, Ed, between the two of us I believe we may have a third uncanny ability...”

“Whazzat?” Ed balances a kiss on the very point of Stede’s nose. “Gorgeousness?”

“Getting interrupted.”

“Nahhh. I reckon that’s just because we’re very important people who've been holed up in here for an entire day, f*cking each other silly,” Ed grins.

“Not an entire day…” Stede narrows his eyes. “Not yet.”

“Will be, if we can get the next interloper to bring us an eggy biscuit or two!” Ed shouts out, at full volume.

Someone yelps somewhere beyond the open door and Stede giggles. “Precisely what I was thinking. How’d you know?”

“You’ve been rubbing off on me, lover. Remember?” Ed wriggles illustratively.

“Mmmm.”

Stede has spent an entire week walking on clouds, and not just because of the Adventures’s ingenious smoke machine. He’s in love with Ed, and life, and all its shades and mysteries. Has the Southern Cross ever burned so bright? Have there always been this many dolphins schooling in these waters, or did they come out special, just to leap with his heart? Every flower’s bloom, every rainbow, every poem ever written is for them. Even things Stede had always thought he detested are made appealing, with Ed at his side. Or better yet, stood right behind him, with a hand snuck down Stede’s breeches.

“Are we sure this is wise?” Stede levels a pistol, one out of six they’ve confiscated in the course of this raid. They’re quite useless to their original owner, since Ed relieved him of both his trigger fingers, but perfect for the shooting lesson they’ve been meaning to have.

Ed chuckles at his shoulder. “What could be wiser than testing your aim before you get yourself in a real firefight?”

“That may be true, but- ohh!”

Why, hellooo. The fingers that had been merely intruding into his waistband as an enticement now wrap ‘round Stede’s co*ck. “If you can shoot both your wads at once, you can shoot through anything,” says Ed.

“I suppose I do believe in the power of positive reinforcement,” Stede gulps. Not that this particular method is one he’d want to implement ship-wide... “Don’t you have- I don’t know- any pointers to impart, first?” he asks Ed.

Sure, I’ve got a pointer for you right here, mate. Ed grinds his own bulge against Stede’s arse as he strokes him. “I want to see what your instinct’s like, first.”

“I assure you, I have none for this,” says Stede. “Much to my boarding school drill team’s shame...”

More like boring school, Ed grumbles. Wouldn’t know a stud if he hit them between the eyes.

“What about the kickback? What if I whip my skull into yours and knock all your teeth out?”

“I’ll grow new ones like a shark.” Ed gives him an encouraging squeeze. “Go ahead. Aim for that red box.”

Among the many items in the enemy captain’s cabin is an unsuspecting tin of tea on an end table. It’s quite close, actually- less than two yards away. Too easy, Stede thinks. This is clearly just Ed’s low hanging fruit, to coax him into playing along. What sort of imbecile couldn’t shoot that box?

Well, Stede is not a particularly ungoadable man. Hopefully it's one of his endearing traits. He pulls the trigger, putting a shot right through it, and sending it flying off the table.

“Aha!”

“Great,” Ed growls, tickling his mustache at Stede’s neck. “And see? Still got all my teeth.” The better to rip your clothes off with, my dear…

“Don’t get any more fresh ideas! It’s already hard enough to concentrate,” Stede warns. He glances down the table laid with guns in front of him, doing his damndest not to look at his own body. Hard to miss Ed’s tattooed arm slithering down between his legs, though. Yes, yes, of course, it feels good- but if Stede hurries up and completes their lesson, he can probably get through this without unnecessarily combining thrills.

“Now what am I aiming for?” he asks Ed.

“Eager,” Ed teases. “How ‘bout something that’ll make a splash?”

“Okay….” Stede squints and scans the room, not noticing that Ed has snuck a second hand into his breeches until he feels a saliva slicked palm. He fondles Stede, co*ck and balls, simultaneously. “Oh! Whataboutthatcup?” he squeezes out.

“Sure, mate. You show it who’s boss.”

With a bang, a cup and saucer not so far from the position of the tea tin evaporate into tiny shards and a wet stain.

“Oh damn,” says Stede. “I might have liked to keep that doily, beneath it.”

“Let’s try for something further off, eh?” Ed lifts his chin, pointing his beard towards a wall lined with shelves. The captain’s private stores. “That sugar sack.”

Stede trades his empty pistol for another more delicately made weapon, probably intended for women's self defense. “Hrrm. This one’s quite a bit lighter,” he notes. “I think I prefer it. Feels right!”

“See? You have instincts, love,” Ed hums happily. Same as picking a cravat. But everything looks f*cking good on you when you’re all confident like this…

Stede shivers at the increasingly unignorable effect of Ed’s affection. “So! Uhm. Yes…” He straightens his arm, determinedly.

“Pay attention to your sights, now,” Ed says. “Where do they line up? Then give it a shot.”

Stede has to consciously breathe to steady himself, but when he fires, he hits squarely in the middle. The sack is too meaty to fall over, but it suffers a hole, spouting out sugar like sand in an hourglass.

“It was a larger target,” says Stede. He scrambles to pick out the next pistol before his concentration can lapse. “The broadsides of barns had best be on the lookout!”

“Mmm, the distance makes a difference,” says Ed. “Give yourself some credit.”

“I think you already have that in- in hand…” Oh, Stede shouldn’t have tried to joke it off. Now he’s paying attention.

You bet I do, Ed chuckles into his shoulder. Still, you’re keeping it together better than I guessed. “Now, use your sights. Try and match from before…”

Stede breathes. He takes aim. He tells himself he can indulge in the feeling of just one stroke, one squeeze- maybe two- so much power all packed up inside a barrel- begging to be released- and then he fires. “Ohh…”

“f*cking fantastic!” Ed gives Stede an excited caress that’s too good not to chase the feel of.

“Oh God, Ed,” Stede groans. He drops the empty gun, grabs the edge of the table, and thrusts into Ed’s grip twice before he realizes he’s doing it.

“So close,” Ed smirks in his ear. “Yeah?”

“Uhn.” Stede leans back against Ed’s chest and pants. He’s perilously keyed up, aching for more.

“Close to the mark, I mean.” No I don’t, you know I don’t. You know I want to get you right there, right up to the edge-”

“Almost,” Stede breathes. But he has to see this through. He has to take his last two shots before he loses control. It’s a point of pride, now. When mixing business with pleasure, a gentleman must see to the first before the second. “Ed…”

“Mmm, Stede.” You can do it. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, Ed promises. Even if you’re gettin’ to be a slippery little bastard, leaking like a sieve...

“Gghnn.” Stede puffs out a shaky breath and takes up the remaining loaded guns simultaneously, one in each hand.

Ed makes a surprised noise and squirms against his backside. “f*ckin’ cheat,” he nips at Stede’s neck.

“Where next?” Stede asks, clicking both hammers at once.

Look at you, soldiering on. You’re being so f*cking hot right now.

Stede’s cheeks burn, but really, it’s Ed who inspires the best and boldest in him. “Where?” he asks again. “Before I put a hole in the ceiling, darling.”

“f*ck.” Ed clears his throat. They’re both breathing hard and trembling as he picks a target. “Reckon with two shots, you could shoot the cork out of that little barrel, top row?”

“The maple syrup?”

“sh*t, that’s what that is?” Ed shakes his head. “Nope, never mind, we’re taking that one home. The crate next to it then. On the X...”

That’s the smallest, farthest target yet, and Stede can barely see straight. “I don’t know if I can…”

“Yes you can,” Ed growls in his ear. “Aim. Little higher, lover.”

“Little faster- just- just a little-“

They both adjust their grip.

“Go ahead,” Ed urges, stroking his co*ck mercilessly. Know you want to. I want you to. “Go ahead, love.”

“I’m going to- to- uhn!”

“Come on, Stede!” Come for me, come for me…

“Agh!”

The two shots ring out as one, like the synchronized beat of two hearts. Stede doesn’t wait for the smoke to clear to see if he’s landed a hit. He closes his eyes and gives himself over to the sensational burst of his own body.

“Thaaaat’s it,” Ed cheers him on, as he spills through his fingers. “f*cking f*ck, Stede.”

Stede drops the guns and braces himself on the table. “Did I hit it?”

“Nope. Not at all,” Ed laughs.

“Well then.” Stede heaves a shaky breath in and out, then raises his eyes to the taunting, unblemished crate. “We’ll just have to try this again sometime, won’t we?”

They cherry pick what they like from the remains of the captain’s cabin, after that. The man’s fashion sense is abysmal, but there are a few instruments that would be at home in the jam room. The real boon is several papers mapping out other excursions by the mercantile company, that will be ripe for future plunder. And the maple syrup for Ed, of course. Stede puts the little barrel in a particular pile, to indicate its destination as they divvy up the loot between the Revenge and Adventure. Straight to their little love nest, please!

Lucius marks down their winnings in his ledger just as quickly as the crew can haul them out. He flips back and forth with an earlier page, lips pulled in a pout. “Our stores are already lousy with salted pork,” he says. “Shall we send this over to the boys in black, then?”

“Your call,” Stede says to Ed, giving his hand a little jiggle. “You’d know better than I.”

“Ah f*ck,” Ed groans. “I need to suck it up and assign someone to inventory over there.” Been a sh*t show since Izzy f*cked off. f*cking dick leaving me high and dry. He’ll do the dickest dick thing, too. He’ll pop back up the minute I assign someone, and then he’ll throw a fit, all insulted.

Stede unlinks their fingers. He’s already heard plenty of this since Mr. Hands' abrupt departure, and while he doesn’t care to disagree with the criticism, he’s happier to abide by the Out of Sight, Out of Mind maxim. “How about if Lucius tracks what goes where for now, and tonight I’ll take a look at updating your books myself, hmm?”

Ed’s lip quibbles. “But we were gonna do that thing later…”

“That won’t take all night,” Stede assures him.

“Sure sounds like it does,” Lucius huffs under his breath.

“See!” Ed points. “The boy knows! Make him take over the books!”

“So that Izzy will be out for my blood, if he comes back?” Lucius raises an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks.”

Why is everyone so certain he’ll return?! They’re having a perfectly lovely time without Mr. Hands lurking about, thank you. His presence is incompatible with Stede and Ed’s happiness. He objects to their blossoming romance, which is on a course to be life long- so, tough luck bucko!

Well, speak of the devil, and he doth appear. When Stede climbs back on deck, he stops at the top of the ladder, unwilling to step any closer to such a villain.

“Everyone!” Stede claps his hands sharply. “Rehydrate, grab a snack, grab a towel. We’ll come back for a team meeting in ten!”

“Yes, run along and grab your little snacks,” says Mr. Hands in his wheezy voice. The crew, all energized and invigorated by the raid, disperse around him. He stands fixed in the middle of the deck, as dour as ever and staring directly at Stede. “The grown ups need to talk…”

“Izzy.” However much Ed has angsted, wondering which straw the broke his disloyal camel’s back, he leans against the rigging beside Stede as though this reappearance is no trouble at all. “What brings you ‘round these parts? Can’t be the obligation to the post you abandoned without leave. Forget your socks in one of the drawers?”

Oh, Stede could kiss him. The sight might even drive Mr. Hands off, once and for all!

“I was too hasty, sir,” Mr. Hands says, drily. He approaches Ed, then, crossing the boards of the deck with all the severity of a prisoner mounting a gallows. “I wished to protect my captain from threat. But… I forgot that your foresight is unmatched.” He flits a sharp glance Stede’s way. “Whatever the fate of your nuptials, it is my duty to belatedly congratulate you both.”

“Heh!” Ed shakes his hand and swings an arm to give Mr. Hands a pat on the back. “Thanks, mate! But good news, you didn’t actually miss the wedding.”

Mr. Hands lifts his chin. “Ah. What a relief.”

Ugh. Now they’re going to have to invite him, aren’t they? Stede steps in to not so graciously accept his own handshake. He braces himself to get a brainful of whatever vitriol Mr. Hands really feels about the matter, and is somewhat relieved to remember the man wears a glove on his right hand. And somewhat suspicious…

“Thank you,” Stede says tightly.

Mr. Hands stands back again, clasping his hands behind himself, removing any further chance to take a true temperature of his will. “In that case,” he says, “I’m also here to report that Spanish Jackie has extended an invitation. She would of course consider it an honor to host the wedding of the greatest pirate of all time...”

Whatever his previous misgivings, Stede’s head spins at this spectacular turn of events. “Hang on! Spanish Jackie? The Spanish Jackie who banished me from the Republic of Pirates?!” He points at himself. “She does know I’ll have to be there, right?”

“Banished you?” Ed quirks an eyebrow at him. “What’d you do? Cover a burp?” he smirks.

“I smashed the nose jar,” Stede sighs.

Mr. Hands does too. “Yes, well. In light of your impending association with Blackbeard, Jackie has revised her ruling,” he informs them. He narrows his eyes at Stede. “I believe your lot call it ‘marrying up’...”

Stede hugs both arms around one of Ed’s and beams at his magnificent intended. “I can hardly argue with that,” he smiles. “Oh! This is terrific! We hadn’t settled on a location yet, and there’s none more perfectly piratical! What a dream come true!”

“If you say so,” Mr. Hands mutters.

“Pff! Alright!” Ed tilts his head toward Stede’s. I know I’m always moanin’ what a drag it is to be Blackbeard, but for once! A f*cking upside! “If that’s the wedding you want, lover- that’s the wedding you shall have.”

“Thank you, dear.” Stede tiptoes up to kiss him.

“Smash any jar you like,” Ed hums into it. You’re mine now.

Stede lands back on his heels, elated. “This is going to be the seafaring social event of the century! This is so exciting!”

“Yes, I may faint,” says Mr. Hands, puncturing Stede’s happy bubble once more. He nods to Ed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Captain… I’ve been rowing all day. I’ll be back up for second watch.”

“Bit presumptuous,” Stede sniffs, watching him walk away. “You didn’t exactly hire him back.”

Ed shrugs. “I didn’t exactly fire him, either. Least now there’s somebody to sort out the books!”

“I suppose…”

Stede’s not so certain the trade off is worth it. He must look it, too. Ed gives him a nudge.

“Look, I know Izzy can be a pill,” he admits, “but he’s one of those people it’s better to have on your side than against you.”

Stede nods. “I’ll take your word for it, Ed.”

If Mr. Hands ever deigns to take Stede’s side, perhaps then he’ll be able to say for himself.

Ed jiggles his arm, still wrapped in Stede’s embrace. What are you thinking?

He asks fairly often, to try and keep things even between them, and most of the time Stede is grateful for it. He very much wants Ed to be as welcome to his thinking. He values his council, above all others. But- this particular bit of honesty feels like it will cause only strife. Stede can’t just tell Ed that he thinks Mr. Hands is cruel and callous and reminds him of the worst of his bullies. He can’t go around dictating for Ed who is good and who is bad, as though Ed has no concept for himself. He can’t go blasting away at a man Ed has relied on so closely for years, and not expect the shrapnel to hurt Ed, as well. He has to make nice, whatever his misgivings. Well, nice might be a bit too much to ask, considering the festering, open wound of their mutual disdain- but failing that, he should make neutral.

“I’m just as surprised he came back, as you were that he ever left,” Stede tells Ed. “That’s all.”

Ed sighs. “The talk of my retirement really threw Izzy for a loop,” he says. He casts a look around to ensure that they aren’t in anyone’s earshot. “I think I set myself up for a real arse ache when I lied to him about his fate…”

Stede’s eyes go wide. “What? What do you mean?”

“I always led him to believe we’d go down swinging together, in some badass raid,” Ed admits, head hung low. “Fact is, he’s not even gonna die on a boat!”

“That would explain his persistence to be at your side…”

As Stede pats his arm consolingly, Ed’s thoughts swirl. We were scrappy kids, come from nothing. Thought I was giving us something to live for, before we ended up dying with nothing, too. “Deserve all the trouble I get for f*cking with his head like that…”

Stede’s chest pangs. “I think that was rather a kind lie, Ed.”

He looks up at Stede through a sentimental, but shadowy expression. “Only ‘cause you want to give me the benefit of the doubt,” he says.

That is difficult to argue with. Of course Stede is inclined to see the best in Ed, because he admires him so. But what can he do to help Ed be as equally pleased with himself?

“What would put you at ease, my dear?” Stede asks. “Perhaps finally telling him the truth?”

“That can of worms...”

“Hmm?”

Ed heaves a weary breath. “You’re right, mate,” he says. He pulls Stede close by the hips, and they lean into one another’s bodies, harmoniously agreed. “I’m long due to clear the air. I’m just thinking… If I fess up about one thing, what else’ll spill out? What’s your death like? What’s so special about you?” he poses as examples.

“I don’t mind you letting on how wonderful I am,” Stede smiles. “Though it may be best to keep my more remarkable abilities under wraps,” he adds, with a flourish of his fingers against Ed’s chest.

“Yeah,” Ed chuckles. He drums his fingers on Stede too, just a bit too low down his backside to be decent. “No way in hell I’m tellin’ him about your… abilities,” he winks. “Though maybe if Iz got fingered by his own magic mate, he’d lighten the f*ck up!”

“One would think!”

There’s a rise of commotion then, as the crew returns from their post-raid break below deck. Ed steals a quick kiss and then whirls Stede over to the capstan so that they can get their post-mortem underway.

Book poised, and spectacles adjusted, Stede scans down the notes. “Very forceful use of the gangplanks today. Bang on! I really do think synchronization heightens the overall effect,” he tells the crew. “And, you are to be congratulated on rounding up the officers so speedily!”

“Saw one of the off-duties still f*cking yawning in his pajamas while you tied him up,” Ed adds, with a clap.

“Use of fog; perfectly appointed. Ropes; very good,” Stede goes on. “Use of firebombs; satisfactory. I only quibble that a perfectly good barrel of pickles was lost. Hmm… Let’s see, what happened after that…” Stede traces his finger down to a bullet point shaped like a heart. “Ah! Target practice.” He shoots Ed a smirk. “Very satisfactory. We’ll… follow up on that later.”

Ed blushes and clears his throat. “Cheers.”

“All in all, we’ve topped off the food supply, liquor, and lumber, and captured no less than 50,000 doubloons. And an assortment of brass instruments. Bring on the celebratory jamboree, am I right?”

“Ooo,” says the Swede. “Do you mean that, really?”

Ed claps a hand to Stede’s back “Your captain doesn’t joke around about thanking his crew! An extra ration for one and all, tonight, and a go on the trumpet!”

“Yes!” Stede concurs.

He basks in the appreciative murmuring of his crew. They really have hit a stride since combining forces with the Adventure. The two crews are already calling dibs on dance partners. A very happy marriage, indeed.

Ed’s hand slides up Stede’s back, to his uncovered nape. Stuffed bellies and all that racket should keep ‘em out of our hair, a while…

“Speaking of music… on to Miscellany!” Stede pulls his spectacles off and folds them atop his book. The rest of their business is off the cuff. “Frenchie, could you please play that song all the way through, the one with the ‘sandy bottoms’? Ed can’t remember how it ends and it’s been stuck in his head all day and it’s driving us both mad.”

“Uh, yeah, no prob,” Frenchie nods. “But like, is it stuck in a good way?” he asks, hopefully. “Like it’s catchy?”

Wee John raises his hand. “Or is it stuck like, I get to light his lute on fire, kind of a way?”

“Dude!”

Stede frowns. “No matter how annoying, I don’t encourage any of you to destroy one another’s belongings.”

“It’s not annoying me!” Ed jumps to say, as Frenchie all but wilts. “I like it!”

“Would you say it’s one of your favorites, sir?” asks Black Pete. “Can I go ‘round telling people I helped write Blackbeard’s favorite song, or-”

“‘Helped write’!?” Lucius pats Black Pete’s bald head. “You suggested Frenchie rhyme ‘bow’ with ‘bow’, babe. Maybe sit this one out.”

“They’re totally different things, babe!” Black Pete gestures indignantly. “One’s for wearing, one’s a whole end of a boat!”

“But it’s no comparison to the satisfaction of rhyming ‘sandy bottoms’, ‘leafy autumns’, is it?” Stede tuts. He should know. He’s heard Ed mentally singing it to himself enough times. What was his next point? Oh, yes! “Now, I see Mr. Buttons and Roach have returned from their errand,” he says, with a roll of his wrist in their direction.

Mr. Buttons stands ramrod straight. “Aye!”

“And? Were you able to entice Mr. Chattering to take my commission?”

“Duh!” Roach poses, hands on hips. “We get results. That Chatty guy and his apprentice are waiting in your cabin, right now.”

“Excellent,” Stede smiles. “And in the interest of matching already established vibes- did you end up enticing them with money, or weapons?”

“Would turning a man’s own shears on ‘im count as a weapon, Cap’n?” asks Mr. Buttons.

“Yes!” Stede squeaks. “You didn’t damage them, did you?!”

Roach just snorts. “That’s what Chatty said!”

Woe to all, if they did! Kidnapped or on the payroll, Chattering won’t possibly be tailoring at his best if his tools are out of order. Stede and Ed have already delayed their wedding this long so that they might have all new outfits for the occasion- he couldn’t bear having to push it back even further, so that the scissors can be replaced. Or worse! Having only a shabby, badly cut garment to offer his love.

“Dented shears,” Stede shudders. “May as well have conscripted a shark to make our wedding suits!” The very idea churns his stomach. “I feel as though I may be ill…”

Ed comes to his rescue, scooping a supportive arm around him. “Easy, Stede,” he says. “We have plenty of time to sharpen up before we reach Nassau.”

“Nassau?” Oluwande perks up, interestedly. “What’s with-? We’re not going back there, are we?”

Stede borrows Ed’s strength to confirm this last order of business. “That’s right, crew,” he smiles, leaning heavily into Ed’s embrace. “We’ve been invited to conduct our wedding at Spanish Jackie’s! Quite a get for the venue, I must say! Could there be a more expert host for the occasion than a pirate with twenty husbands?”

“Nineteen,” Jim corrects.

“Whichever,” Stede flicks an inexact hand.

“Eighteen too many, if you ask me,” Ed grins. “I mean to get it done perfectly in one. Show that scurvy lot what’s what…”

Stede beams proudly at his singular love. “A wedding to end all weddings,” he says.

“Oh yeah,” Ed rumbles back. “I’m gonna marry you so f*cking hard, they’ll have to pack it all in. Do away with the whole bloody institution, after us.”

Someone gags. “You’ve definitely put me off it…”

Too bad!

Stede kisses Ed unapologetically, to a mutual internal refrain of Love you love you love you.

After they part again, Stede glances at the crew. “Now, unless there are any other matters that need attending… we have a date with our tailor!”

They almost manage to peel away from the crowd to go play dress up, but at the last moment, just before they can shut the door behind themselves, Oluwande shouts.

“Uhm! Captains!”

Ed’s fingers tug impatiently in Stede’s. But! My fancy suit!

“Yes?” Stede sighs, opening the door wide again.

Both Oluwande and Jim step into the corridor. “Just. Need a word in private,” Oluwande cringes. “About us going to Jackie’s? Is that really the best idea, considering the last time?”

Ed shrugs. “Stede’s been unbanished. S’fine!”

“Perfectly!” Stede agrees.

“Stede might be, but I dunno if Jackie’s gonna wanna see me, either,” Jim points out.

“Pssh! ‘Cause you dropped Alfeo? That guy was a dick.” Ed pats their shoulder, approvingly. “You’re under my protection, too. Not that ya need it, eh?”

Jim goes as wide eyed as a child with a lollipop. “Wow. You heard about that?”

“I have my ways.” Ed’s wink is sparkling and kind. Easily paternal, even. It’s so nice to see him folding Stede’s own under his wing.

“Regardless!” says Oluwande. He leans in and lowers his voice, confidentially. “You know how she got all those husbands, right?”

Stede does not. “By… networking?” he guesses.

That, or her parents are enterprising in the extreme.

“She steals them out from under other lovers,” Oluwande hisses. “Especially newlyweds!”

“Sí, it’s like her thing,” says Jim. “She only wants what’s already spoken for.”

“That is very piratey,” Stede says, considering.

“Hah!” Ed laughs and gives him a squeeze. “I’d like to see her try and steal you away.” Remind me to tell you later… “Thanks for the warning, but- we’re good,” Ed assures the others. Then he pauses and points between them. “Unless you’re worried she’ll bust you two lovebirds up. Aww.”

“Wuh.”

“Uhhhh-”

“Buh bye!” With that, Ed yanks Stede on down the hall, leaving behind two very flustered sailors.

“What am I supposed to remind you of?” Stede asks, as they round the corner.

“About what?”

“I don’t know what… Whatever you were just intimating, a moment ago!”

Any hope of jogging Ed’s memory is dashed as they open the cabin door, revealing a hogtied Mr. Chattering, his assistant, and crates stuck full of more bolts of cloth than it’d take to make sails for an entire armada. Fabulous silks with gleaming weaves. Embroidered flowers, even more beautiful than the living thing. Beaded, braided, quilted, and trapunto treasures, all for their perusal.

“I say, Bonnet! What is the meaning of this?!” Mr. Chattering cries.

“You poor thing, what bastard left you on the floor?!” says Ed. He breaks away from Stede, and falls to his knees to scoop up a fallen brocade.

The light in the cabin was purple when Ed woke with Stede in his arms. Too purple. Too early. But Stede was shaken, and Ed couldn’t sleep through that. He said he’d had a nightmare, and Ed asked what about, and Stede couldn’t quite remember, but he’d have liked to have dreamt the ending, so he could see things set right. Ed made up a wild tale on the spot. How he had been stolen away by a horrible, mangobbling monster, and Stede came chasing after him. How Stede fought like the devil and brought the beast to its knees to rescue him, only to find that the beast was Ed all along. That makes no difference to me, Stede said. Like every silly yarn they spin together, the ending is always the same, Ed reckons. Now, and decades from now.

The ending is I love you.

“That’s a very touching story,” said Stede. “You can gobble me up, now, if you wish.”

And f*ck yeah, Ed wishes. He pins his mate down and makes him show his soft belly. He sets his teeth against his shoulder and sinks his claws in him, and makes him howl. He slides inside his hunter, his tamer, the only other living creature of his kind- all of it, all in one. They f*ck loud and frenzied, like the wild things they are, until the purple light tinges with orange.

“We have to beat the sunrise,” Ed huffs. What’s the opposite? What’s the opposite of everything you are? You’re my everything, everything- “Or else we’ll turn to shadow.”

“I’ve already beat the sunrise,” Stede reminds him. “Spectacularly.” But he never wearies. He kisses Ed and rocks with him, taking all of his love in stride. “Come along, dear. Harder, now. Harder, if you like.”

Ed clutches Stede’s curls like a lifeline as he sprints towards org*sm. Have to hurry, mate. Can’t get caught.

“You’re safe with me, my love. My beautiful creature...”

I am, I am, Ed knows. You understand me. You know me. You love me, anyway-

“I love you. No ‘anyways’. I love you-”

“Hhnff! Stede,” Ed sobs. “Stede!” He presses his forehead to his lover’s and burrows deep one last time. Deep and safe.

“Ah! There you are,” Stede coos. “I have you now.” He makes no move to separate them even as Ed softens. He folds Ed in his arms and holds him ‘til he breathes easy.

Stay. Stay like this, Ed asks without asking. Fall asleep again. Dream my dreams with me. No more nightmares for anyone. I’ll growl and fight and scare them all off.

When they wake again properly, Ed props himself up on one side, with the sunshine at his back, and the landscape of Stede laid out before him. He aimlessly walks two fingertips up and down the peaks and valleys, and lets himself get lost in the wilderness of affection. He doesn’t care if he ever escapes. Why would he want to?

So gorgeous, lover. And soft. And good. Like you’re made from all the best things. All the first things that ever were. Clouds, and light, and God stuff.

“Stop that,” Stede giggles.

Ed gasps. “Stop adoring you?!”

Stede laughs and catches his hand before he can pull it away in mock indignation. “You use up all the best compliments before I can even open my mouth!”

Sexy f*cking mouth.

“See?!”

Ed giggles. “I’ll think of nothing but bird caws, and give you a running start, mate!” he promises. “But you’d better hop to it, or I’ll start in on how scrunchy your nose gets when you’re wound up!”

“All right, all right!” Stede brings Ed’s knuckles to his lips for a kiss, and then lays his palm against his chest. “Have you any idea how radiant you are, my beloved?”

“Mmm, you’d better tell me.”

“Your shining eyes,” Stede starts, gazing up at him. “They rule me as the stars do. I know just where I am, where I belong, because you look at me.”

With me. You belong with me.

“We could be in each other’s arms, or across the room- across the water, even- you stood on the shore, and I on the deck with my telescope… and I would feel your beauty just as intensely,” Stede swears.

Well, now I wanna try it. Ed grins. “Reckon I could give you a hard on from a half mile away? I’m imagining wind whipping through my hair and one of those long f*ckin’ fairy tale dresses...”

Stede laughs and squints at him, experimentally. “On a clear day,” he decides. “The sight of you would still penetrate me, right to the heart.”

Ed scratches his fingers into the woolly hair on Stede’s chest, willing, but unable to dig any deeper. I’d love to. If only I could dip in between your ribs. Hold your heart. See it. Keep it safe. Kiss it a thousand times, to lend it beats…

“Just your touch, right here, will do for now,” Stede smiles. He folds Ed’s hand under his own.

They both know how this will all end, right here, right beneath their hands, one day, but it's not sad. There’s so much more to Stede’s fate- their fate- than death.

That makes it all the more jarring, when Izzy corners Ed on the bow later in the day, and asks without preamble, “So, how does Bonnet die, then?”

Like he’s some side note on the ship’s repair list. Lumber stock: rotate before it warps. Cannons: need oiling. Starboard shroud: needs restringing. The love of Ed’s life: heart failure.

But it’s not weak now, or for a long time. In fact, Stede is the one stouthearted enough to suggest Ed tell the truth. That’s why Ed loves him- because he is who he is, without oily manipulation or shame.

“He dies very old, and very loved,” Ed says simply. He even smiles.

Though the skies above are blue, a phantom cloud seems to pass over Izzy’s face. “So you hope that’s you, as well? You get to die like this, like some pampered lord,” he gestures at Stede’s silk robe, billowing around Ed’s body in the wind. “After all the blood you’ve spilled, and all the destruction you’ve wrought. You think you can come clean if you cozy up to him?”

Ed sighs and crosses his arms, wrapping himself in borrowed courage. “I tried to give you hope like that once, Iz. Tellin’ you we’d go down together was supposed to inspire you. But at the same time I tied your hands… I’m sorry, mate.”

At the time, the lie Ed wove for Izzy was the most glorious fate he could imagine. Now, he sees that saddling Izzy as Blackbeard’s lifelong squire was as much a curse as it had been knowing he’d be his own father’s killer.

“What the f*ck are you saying?” Izzy shakes his head, bewildered. “Blackbeard doesn’t f*cking apologize…”

“Edward apologizes! That’s- that’s what I’m trying to get at! I’m trying to set you free,” says Ed. “Blackbeard is a lie. Blackbeard lied to you. I lied to you.” Ed nods his head, accepting responsibility for that, and willing Izzy to understand it, too.

Izzy’s hard, terrified stare searches him for meaning. As far as he has known for years, Blackbeard is infallible. Blackbeard sees the f*cking future. What is his life if not in service to that? “I don’t understand,” Izzy sputters. “What did you-? Has Bonnet put you up to-”

Still, so f*cking preoccupied! Ed grabs Izzy’s shoulders and shakes what sense he can into the man.

“Izzy! I’m talking about your f*cking fate, man! You don’t die for me! You don’t die with me, for me, or fighting at all!” he tells him.

That doesn’t stop Izzy from fighting, now! He shoves Ed off of him in a snarl. He shoves him back, against the railing. A brief brush of skin against skin triggers Ed’s deadly vision, hitting like a cobblestone, lobbed at his chest.

“Did you see yourself?” Izzy grabs Ed’s collar and all but hauls him over the rail. “Did you actually see yourself with him at the end?!” he demands.

Ed gasps as his balance nearly fails him. “No, but-”

“If you can’t see your own death, how do you know?! If you died today, he would forget all about you!” Izzy yanks him back to the safe side of the railing, but painfully. “He would! He would find some other mangy dog-”

Ed’s hand- the hand that Stede kisses so tenderly and holds to his heart- flies before Ed can hear another word, smacking Izzy across the face.

Muddy water. Rags. A cobbled gutter. Tongue gone sour from hunger. Beard not much grayer than it is now.

Ed shakes off the vision, smooths his robe again, and addresses the huffing, pitiful heap of a man at his feet. “You don't have much time left,” he warns Izzy. “So whatever good you can still make of your life- you’d better f*cking do it.”

They’ll land at the Republic of Pirates soon. If Izzy wants to slink off like a rat again, he can. If he wants to lick his wounds over a free feast and ale and then start over with him and Stede he can do that, too. Whatever he does, Ed won’t be letting Izzy put him down, anymore.

The difference between Stede’s first reception on the Republic of Pirates and his second are like night and day, and expecting as much- he cloaks himself accordingly. Black velvet, to display that he is only too happy to take the colors and custom of his beloved’s heraldry. He adorns Ed’s arm proudly as he is celebrated in the streets like a returning hero, leading the parade of Revenge and Adventure crew.

“Omigod, omigod, it’s Blackbeard!” the umpteenth pirate swoons, as they travel down the street. “Hiiii!”

“Eyy! Alright, mate?” Ed waves back.

Another abysmally baggy eyed waif sticks out his hand, desperate to touch greatness. “Oh thank ye! Thank ye, sir! I’ll never wash this hand again!”

“You never washed it before,” his mate grumbles, elbowing his way close. He shakes Ed’s hand, as well. “What an honor to have you with us, Mr. Blackbeard!”

“Yeah, no, I love the ol’ stomping grounds…”

“We sailed straight here, ‘pon hearing ye were coming ta town!” says the waif. “I haven’t slept in six days!”

“I’d never have guessed,” Stede nods, as he shakes the man’s pale, boney hand. “You look well!”

Who the heck’s this?

“Stede Bonnet. The Gentleman Pirate…” Stede shoos the men away, as the next few sailors swarm in. “Yes! Yes, thank you! Thank you for coming to town for our wedding!”

Blackbeard’s getting married?

Eh, I guess this bloke’s got it goin’ on. If ye squint.

Huh. Didn’t know Blackbeard even had a boyfriend.There’s going to be a lot of this, isn’t there? Stede signals to Wee John to clear their way, and with a few well appointed f*ck offs the most grasping of the crowd disperse. As they continue on their way, Stede makes sure to offer Ed his own touch, should Ed like to reset his brain as well.

Ah, there you are, Ed sighs in relief, as their fingers entwine. He tugs Stede closer to his side. “This is why I always order take out,” he tells him. “Get f*ckin’ swamped, otherwise…”

“If it’s too much, we can always head back to the ship,” Stede reminds him. “Rethink how to do the wedding...”

“And miss out on all the free sh*t Jackie’s putting up?” Ed pouts. “I mean, she’s definitely mooching publicity off us bein’ here, least we can f*cking do is get our beaks wet.”

Stede pats Ed’s arm. “You’re too right, my lovebird!”

Of course, considering their history, Stede would be remiss if he didn’t make sure to subject himself to at least one more challenging stream of consciousness. When they arrive to Spanish Jackie’s establishment, he makes a beeline to the bar. Geraldo is there, scrubbing out a tankard and looking rather more officious than usual. A fresh bit of neck wear really will do wonders.

“We meet again, Mr. Jackie,” says Stede. He thrusts out a hand to shake, made unavoidable by Ed’s accompanying glare.

Geraldo blanches. “Blackbeard. And Captain Bonnet. Sirs!” Yeah, I am not trying to get my intestines pulled out through my asshole. f*ck. I’m a good boy. You see what a good boy I’m being, right? I combed my hair and everything, please don’t kill me for last time-

Stede catches eyes with Ed and gives him a nod that Geraldo is up to snuff... For now.

Next, Ed grips the man’s hand inescapably tight- audibly tight, almost- and bears down on him with a look that could bore a hole through even the thickest, most peevish skull. If such a thing is indeed the man’s fate, it’s no secret to him. “I hear you want to make up for inconveniencing me,” Ed growls. “And insulting my groom...”

Geraldo gulps. “I had no idea you two were involved!” he claims. “I mean! No one would have guessed! A legend like you, and a-”

“Careful,” says Ed.

“-A-a-and uh! And such a fine, admirable gentleman, like Captain Bonnet.” Finger bones begin to crunch, and Geraldo gasps a terrified laugh. “It’s like, too much star power, ya know?! Haha! It’s like the mind can barely grasp it all, wow!”

“Well.” Stede clears his throat, finitely. “Grasp it.”

Geraldo nods frantically, and Ed finally lets go of him. “Totally,” he pants. “That’s why Jackie and me were thinking! We gotta pay homage!”

“Homage!” Ed repeats, returning to his upbeat, smiley, amiable self. “There, you see! Like the sound of that... Sounds like swag, to me!”

“Swag,” Stede nods. “Lovely!”

“Lovely!” Ed scoops an arm around Stede’s back. “We don’t have to flay anyone’s nutsa*ck today! Treat us right, and we can be agreeable guys! Right, Stede?”

Stede smiles his sharkiest smile. “Why don’t you show us to our accommodations?”

“Yeah!” says Geraldo. “I’ll just grab, uh, a key and uh! Here we go! Great!”

Behind them, the trunk full of Mr. Chattering’s hard work scrapes off the stone floor, hoisted by Black Pete and Lucius. “Are there gonna be stairs?” asks Lucius. “Seems like this is something a concierge should really be handling…”

Within three turns of the staircase up from Spanish Jackie’s basem*nt tavern, the light changes. Lamplight mixes with the last orange dregs of the sun, streaming through a window. Another pair of Jackie’s husbands stand by, one strumming a guitar, the other waiting with a tray of drinks to welcome them to the inn. Ed swipes both glasses, sniffs for poisons, and then offers Stede the fuller of the two.

“Cheers, darling.”

“Mmm!”

Lucius has himself a little power trip. On a roll from getting another few of Jackie’s husbands to handle all the luggage up the stairs, he snaps his fingers at the waiter. “Got any more wine?”

“I’ve been here a bunch, I didn’t know there was rooms up here!” Black Pete says, looking around in awe.

“Yeah, we’ve got some space, but it’s tough to justify it,” says Geraldo. “You know. Everybody comes to town with a whole freakin’ boat! Why would they want to pay for a room, right?”

“I don’t even know what I’d do with a whole room to myself…”

Lucius swans over with the rest of a bottle of wine, takes a swig, and passes it. “Sure I could think of something.”

“I’d been wanting to renovate for ages, do some themed rooms, but the return on investment, well- that’s hard to guarantee, right?” Geraldo blows a raspberry. “But perfect timing with the wedding! Get Blackbeard himself to christen the Blackbeard suite, on top of all the people coming into town?”

Ed rolls his eyes. Yep. Just like I thought.

Of course, Jackie and Co. are hoping Blackbeard will come in and make them trendy. And he will! He’s too cool not to attract imitators- but as Ed already said, they may as well make them pay, meanwhile!

“Now, Geraldo,” Stede raises a finger before they continue on from the foyer to their private room. “We will be needing our wedding party housed close by, so we can supervise the merrimaking…”

“Oh yeah,” Ed agrees. “They’ve got favors to make. Odes to compose. Boots to shine.”

The light of potential profitability dims in Geraldo’s eyes, as more and more of the crew funnel in. He counts off on his fingers silently. “That’s-”

“No more than two to a bed!” Stede adds. “I want them well rested!”

“S’that going to be a problem?” Ed glowers.

Geraldo looks around in a panic. “It’s a lot of bodies- we might have to squeeze the Hus Band all into one room…”

“Or I could just kill a couple of you,” Ed shrugs.

“That’s not- haha! That’s very kind of you to offer to help, sir, but-” Geraldo waves over to one of his fellow husbands- the one with the guitar. “Lloyd! Hey! Can you get the rest of these guys checked in? That’d be great!”

Before they can make any further demands on the hospitality, luggage is hefted into motion, and Stede and Ed are quickly ushered through a black door, speared by a dagger. Within, there’s more of the same. Rich, ebony wood, jet black walls, curtains, bedding, and floors. So much black, Stede may be in danger of losing his shoes to the void if he doesn’t take care to stuff a bright sock in them first. The only major relief from the darkness is a section of wall papered over with a myriad of Wanted posters. Dozens of printed Blackbeards, staring directly at the bed. A bed constructed of twisting, undulating driftwood, with a headboard and canopy posts carved like a sea monster’s tentacles. Blackbeard Flept Here, a golden placard claims, preemptively.

“Cozy, huh?” Geraldo grins. “And yet... unemotional.”

“So many bold design choices,” Stede appraises. Not the ones he would have made, but he supposes one has to admire the commitment.

Beside him, Ed has to make no farce of being 'characteristically' cool and unimpressed. He really does hate it, eyeing the posters with a squint so flinty that it ought to spark them aflame.

“Feel free to help yourself to any of these bottles… Full bar in here! And there’s always the bell, if you need refills, or anything else.”

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about…” Ed starts clinking around, checking out the goods.

“Let’s get some light in here, so you can really get a look, eh?” Geraldo crosses the room to a pair of windows, to open the curtains. Leather, like the upholstery on the chairs. One of which- Stede is just noticing- is outfitted with a phallus protruding from the seat. Just going to… ignore that for now!

“Blood smeared windows!” Ed points. “You guys really think of everything.”

“For display only,” Geraldo says, unfortunately challenging Stede to try and imagine a practical use.

He is definitely going to shut the curtains as soon as is polite. “Hmm,” Stede squints around the room. “Maybe we could get some candles in here?” he suggests.

“Sure, sure! You guys are into hot wax, huh?” Geraldo turns back from the windows and shoots them a wink.

Ed frowns. “Didn’t say that.”

“Well, don’t worry, sir! We got all the usual stuff to inspire you honeymooners.” Geraldo sweeps across the room and gestures to a shelf that had been hidden in shadow, until now. “Manacles, clamps, co*ck cages, co*ck rings, big dicks, little dicks, dicks with dangly balls…”

Indeed, there are dozens of lewd little trinkets, carved from ivory, wood, and tortoiseshell.

Stede blinks at them, helplessly. “For display, I assume?”

“For use!” Geraldo beams. “Do you know how many sickos would pay to lick the same spoon as Blackbeard? We can’t afford not to have complimentary dild*s in the room!”

“Quite.” Stede searches around the room for literally anything else to remark positively upon. “Oh, a guestbook! That’s wonderful. Oh, Ed, let’s not forget to sign in!”

“There’s blood in the icebox, if you don't feel like using your own!”

“All right,” says Ed.

“Make sure you sign the chamber pot, too,” Geraldo adds.

That catches Stede on the back foot. “They pay to pee in the same pot?” He grimaces in disbelief.

“…Yeah, that’s not what they do with it.”

Stede might have preferred it when Geraldo was leading him to his death. “My, my!” he says, clapping his hands together. “I so look forward to our stay here. And after such a long day…”

Ed steps in to translate. “He’s saying you can piss off now, mate.” He moves to open the door for Geraldo before this drags on any longer.

“Don’t let me hold you up!” Geraldo says, hands raised in a scurry. “Oh! But definitely fill out the questionnaire so we can get a jump start on the event planning!”

“Ooo!”

Now, hang on. Stede does love to issue his opinions on things. Excited, he takes the roll of parchment Geraldo whips out of his vest- making sure to sneak in one last brush of his mind, for insurance.

Don’t overstay! Geraldo tells himself. Always leave ‘em wanting more. “You can just skewer it on the door when you’re done, yeah!”

“Thank you!” Stede waves him off.

“No, no, thank you!”

After the door shuts, leaving them alone, Stede shrugs at Ed. “I only get the sense that he really does want the business venture to succeed!”

“And yet Jackie’s about to shoot ‘im dead,” Ed tsks.

“No! Just when he’s found his true passion in life?”

Ed shrugs. “Sucks to be him.”

Alas!

Stede takes another uninterrupted look around the room, this time noting shark jaw picture frames, the withered flowers in rum bottles, and the fireplace equipped with pokers made from reworked swords. “I’ll say this for the Blackbeard suite, it has personality,” Stede says. “Not yours, my dear, but… personality, nonetheless.”

Ed grunts appreciatively, that Stede would know the difference. “Looks like they have a suggestion box. You could give ‘em some pointers, mate.”

“Hmm.” Stede points the scroll at an under optimized corner of the room. “Could do with a mirror to dress in, just there. Perhaps a vanity…”

With a whump, Ed flops back into the bed. He strips off his gloves and folds his hands behind his head. “Oh f*ck.”

“Bed of nails?” Stede guesses.

“Nope. But I’ve found your mirror,” Ed says, jutting his bearded chin up at the ceiling.

Stede cranes his neck to see. “Now, what’s the point of that?!”

“C’mere and I’ll show you,” Ed grins.

Laying aside the questionnaire, Stede obliges. It’s never a chore to climb into bed with one so lovely as his Ed, after all. Tender arms fall open and then surround him. Soft lips pepper his cheek. This room is dark and stupid and so’s everything in it except you. Gorgeous. Perfect. Mine. Ed rolls Stede beneath him, and even a quilt patched with alligator hide is made utterly welcoming. Capture that feeling ina themed room, and you’ll be booked until the new millennium.

“Ah, I see,” Stede pants, as he catches eyes with himself in the mirror. It’s doubly- triply breathtaking, watching Ed swarm up his body, and feeling it, inside and out.

Love you love you love you…

“I love you, my dear,” Stede squeezes back. “I love you so.” He kisses Ed with one eye open to watch them writhe, up above.

“Lemme fill a room with nothing but mirrors and you-”

“Nothing at all? Won’t I get bored?” Stede chuckles.

“Not if I’m there, too,” Ed mumbles into his mouth. He presses his hips to Stede’s and gyrates. “Wouldn’t you like to watch us f*ck from every angle?”

“I’d be- hhnn… fascinated.” Indeed, Stede can’t peel his eyes away as he slips his hands down the back of Ed’s breeches. “That beautiful bum of yours…”

One handful leads to another, then another. Quickly, they shove their clothes down just enough to slip Ed’s stiff prick between Stede’s bare thighs.

“Ggff, I f*cking love your f*ckin’ legs…”

“Come now, darling, show me how much,” Stede cheers him on. “I want to see your happy little rump, pumping away.” He firms up his body, to make as pleasingly tight a crevice as he can.

Warm and muscly. How’d you get such muscly legs? From running around my dreams all day, all night?

Stede feels no less effusive, watching the way Ed clenches and dimples beneath his fingers. If he ever had any complaints about being on the receiving end- he doesn’t- but if he did, it would be that he is deprived of the sight of Ed’s assets in motion. How he misses the little lighting bolt tattoo on Ed’s left buttock when he can’t see it, and the scrubby hair on his legs, and their knobby kneed shuddering when he’s overwhelmed. A mirror would do away with this shortcoming quite handily. And, oh! He could move around one at home, couldn’t he? Just think if he sat Ed on his co*ck, and watched from back and front simultaneously! Or if they cozied up like spoons in a drawer, and he could see all the naked length of his lover’s long body, matched against his as they coupled. Or! What if they laid together without touching, and used their reflections to match each other’s self ministrations? Just the notion of such things makes Stede impossibly hard, and rather dizzy. He really can’t be held to whatever nonsense he spouts next.

“If they want to cash in on our copyright- we’ll insist on a Gentleman Pirate suite, modeled on Versailles,” he says, fatuously. “A galerie des glaces… And to inaugurate, we’ll make love up against each and every one!”

“Dunno what- hfff- half those words are,” Ed huffs in his ear, as he ruts. “But I love it when you babble at me...”

“We should have our mirrored room, my love. A treasure chest of cherishment. A jewel box of our erotic joy!”

“You’re so f*cking weird,” Ed whines. He gasps and jerks, driving hard between Stede’s legs. No doubt about it, he’s nearly there.

“Shall I tell you what else is in there, my love?”

“Ohgodyougetme. Hof*ck. Yes…”

Just as Stede thought. “Velvet linens,” he breathes in Ed’s ear.

“Uhuh!” Ed groans. Everywhere…

“Oh, yes. And that engraving of nude Apollo you think looks like me-”

“Hhhyeah!” You’re so f*cking sexy, it’s insane-

“-and a silver, three-tiered stand filled with little cakes!”

“Ohgodohgod, what flavor?”

“Lemon!”

“f*ck!”

Hot, wet spurts erupt between Stede’s thighs. He catches Ed’s face in his hands and kisses him through the rush.

So f*cking amazing. Can’t believe you’re gonna marry me. Can’t believe I get to be with you forever.

How wonderful a thing it is, to be so loved. To be Ed’s amazement, and his fantasy. What a privilege.

Stede pets Ed’s hair back as they part and smiles up at him with bottomless adoration. “I wish only to make you happy,” he tells Ed. “Let that be the great work of my life.”

As Ed cools, he comes over with a squirmy, sensitive smile. “You already have done. D’you wanna knock off work and go mess around?”

“Do I ever.”

Ed kisses him once more, then slithers down Stede’s body. Up in the mirror, silver hair drags like the train of a magnificent cloak over a throne room floor. Stede sinks his fingers into this unparalleled luxury, just as reverently as Ed takes hold of his co*ck.

“Look at you,” Ed licks his lips. “Red as a rose. S’prised you didn’t come on my belly.”

“I might have, if you’d gone any longer.”

Don’t you worry, mate, Ed laps his tongue around Stede’s co*ck head. Haven’t forgotten about you. Don’t you worry…

Stede hisses as heavenly heat envelopes him, sliding down, down, down. “Hhh! I never worry,” he tells Ed. “If anyone should know how many things you can think all at once!” He breaks off in a flighty, flustered chuckle.

This is the only thing I’m thinkin’ of right now. And I’m very f*cking important, so this is the most important dick in the entire world, I reckon! With that, Ed grips tighter at the root of him and sets off stroking at a pace that proves his point.

“Oh! Ah! Yes, darling, yes!” Stede squirms, smearing the evidence of Ed’s fervor between his legs even further, until the cool drip of it reaches his heated nethers.

I’m gonna get you good, mate. You know I will-

“Yes! I know, my love… Oh! Oh, Ed!”

As Stede’s composure fails him his head falls back, and there’s the mirror, again. It is something new and thrilling to see from this distance. Though Ed’s head necessarily blocks the most sensational part of the act, it still registers as something Stede should not see. Something private. Something scandalous and shocking. But then- he isn’t shocked at all. This is his to enjoy. He is welcome to Ed’s mouth and the pleasure it brings. This is good. What could be more wholesome than the affection of two nearly newlyweds, desperately in love? The man up in the mirror, who loves Stede so deeply, so tenderly, so eagerly despite a life of neglect and callous brutality and hate- that’s the man who ought to be plastered on the walls. That’s the real Blackbeard.

“My beautiful beloved,” he pets him softly. “My sweetest dear, my Ed…”

f*ckin’… you’re the sweet one. Your f*cking dick tastes so good. Ed moans as he sucks, making his claim irrefutable. I’m gonna swallow you. I’m gonna take your load. Give it to me. Give it to me. Stede. Stede, I want it. Want you. Come on.

Stede loses track of the scene in the mirror. All the world is blurring and spinning, like a dollop of cream stirred into a teacup. “Wuh! Oh, Edward!” His whole body clenches, his heart squeezes, and his eyes fall shut. “Oh, here! Here I come!”

After Ed attempts to lick his co*ck clean- so thoroughly clean Stede is nearly aroused again- Stede pulls a hanky from up his sleeve and shoos Ed off of him.

“My goodness, I should at least like to get off my coat and shoes before you seduce me a second time!” he objects. “You never even took off your knife!”

“Oh sh*t, right!” Ed agrees, sliding back. He sits on the edge of the bed and sheds all his boots and hardwear while Stede cleans off his legs. “Seeing as we’re off the clock, may as well get comfy, hmm?”

“As comfy as we can get on this cobbler’s nightmare of a bed, anyway.”

Ed snickers. “S’like a bear ate a boot shop and barfed it all up!”

Stede points at the furry rug at the foot of the bed. “It killed him! Poor brute…”

Stede would have to admit, however, that the leather quilt wipes clean far easier than their soft blankets do at home. He cleans up, folds away his bulky things, and stands in naught but his shirt, pinching his soiled hanky by one corner.

“Now, where am I supposed to dispose of this?” he sighs.

“The suggestion box?” Ed smirks, at first. Then he thumbs to his left. “Looked like there’s a washroom through that curtain.”

“Marvelous!”

Indeed, beyond one of the many imposing curtains is a small space completely dominated by yet another tacky piece of ‘Blackbeardian’ decor. A rowboat, gutted out to be a bathtub, and painted to appear as the Adventure. The towel racks are positioned to give the impression of full sails, and everything.

“How did they even get this through the door?” Stede blinks at the thing. He skirts around the behemoth to fetch a small, sensible wash basin and pitcher, then returns to the main chamber to change.

Careful to preserve the secrecy of the wedding gifts stowed within, Stede cracks open their trunk full of clothes and unpacks their robes for a quiet night in. What a treat! They haven’t had the chance to cuddle up with some reading in a while. It’s been so busy, looting ships to shop for the wedding. Table settings worthy of the occasion don’t just grow on trees! Stede would like each and every guest to glimpse the splendor of love, and if that means beating them over the head with golden candelabras and gooey eyed stares, so be it. No one shall leave their wedding without surety of their devotion- foremost to each other, but also to detail.

Ed gratefully wraps himself into his velvety robe, sits back against the headboard, and extends his limbs in invitation. “I see you’ve got your spectacles on, mate. I know my job here.”

“My darling, you are my home away from home, and my couch away from couch,” Stede chuckles as he climbs into the bed again. He arranges himself between Ed’s legs as though they were arms of a throne and unspools the scroll left for them to fill out. “Hold my ink?”

“Jesus, that’s a lot of checkboxes,” says Ed, getting a look over Stede’s shoulder. Ugh. Oh no. Going cross eyed.

Stede chuckles. “Half of these are beverages. What do we want served?”

“The uzh.” You know what’s good.

“There’s no champagne listed here,” Stede pouts, as he marks off boxes. “That’s all right. We can bring some over from the ship.” He goes ahead and checks off everything else he sees as fit for human consumption. “What about blood?” he asks Ed. “We don’t keep it on tap on the Revenge, but if it’s what the locals expect…”

“Oh yeah, you don’t wanna skimp on the blood,” says Ed. “Trust me. Went to a wedding once where they forgot to bring a pig, and ended up having to slaughter the priest ‘cuz he was the only bloke there without a truce. Call me old fashioned, but that seems like begging for bad luck on your nuptials.”

“Noted!” Stede makes a heavy mark next to ‘Blood’. “Now, we have an assortment of customs we can opt in on, it looks like… Oh, this is so comprehensive! Bravo, Spanish Jackie!”

She must’ve had every kind of wedding by now, I reckon. Ed snugs his arms around Stede. “Lay it on me, mate.”

Stede nestles back into Ed’s chest with a contended wiggle. “Well, if we’d like to do a parade, there’s either the daylight, drums, and horseback option- or if it’s after sunset, it’s torches and a litter.”

“What, are the horses scared of the dark?”

“Must be.” Stede squints at the thought. “Can you ride, dear? I’ve never thought to ask!”

“‘Course I can.” You oughta know from experience.

“Of course,” Stede smirks. “I imagine it must make quite the majestic sight.”

“Just, it makes me all bow legged, afterward, since I haven’t got much of an arse…”

Stede scoffs at the notion. “Plenty enough for me!”

Ed breathes hot on his neck. “I’m only sayin’ if you have other plans for it, that night...”

“Torches and a litter it is!”

Ed hums his content in Stede’s ear. “Where’s this parade even going?” And since we’re skipping the horses, can we f*ck on the litter while we get there, or what?

Stede fights down a shiver. He mustn’t get distracted- there’s so much to sort! The destination of the parade just so happens to be the next concern of the questionnaire. “For the ceremony location, we can have either the cliffs, the beach, the floating lagoon, or the Chapel of Drowned Souls,” he tells Ed. “I must say, unless you have your heart set on it, I am beach averse.”

“Jackie’s got an in with the chapel?!” Ed reacts rather more strongly to this than Stede prepared himself for, jostling the quill into spattering ink here and there.

“She must do.” Stede smudges at the now somewhat blurry line item. “But we’re not particularly religious, are we? Do we have time to convert into a congregation? Or- if you wanted me to denounce-”

“Nah, nah. f*ck that,” Ed flaps a hand. “That’s all shammy bullsh*t. But I vote chapel!”

Stede is stumped. He must hear Ed blaspheme and hereticize hourly. “I’m rather curious as to why?”

“It’s a haunted f*cking church, Stede!” Ed shakes his shoulders.

“Ohh!”

That changes things completely!

“The pirates ran off the bloody missionaries ages ago, but it’s still f*ckin’ full of ghosts.”

Stede twists in his seat, catching wide, excited eyes with Ed. “We could have a real live spectre at the feast! Several! Thousands, even!”

Knew you’d like that, Ed kisses his cheek. “My man gets as many ghosts as he wants.”

“You spoil me!”

After that, they write up the pecking order of their wedding party, devise a cake, configure their fireworks preferences, and after much debate on the subject of numerology, they pick an auspicious hour for their unholy union.

“The daggers, darling. We can have the handles be bone, silver, or jeweled?”

“S’up to you, love,” says Ed. “I know you have a vision for the look of it all.”

Blame it on the all consuming effect of the decor in the room, maybe, but Stede opts for bone.

“There’s a section to write down a No Play list!” he notices next. Right away, he gets to scratching down his own personal peeve.

“What’s that?”

“If any of the musicians have the gall to play ‘Lavender’s Blue’, I will walk out.”

Ed is quick to back him up. “I’ll f*ckin’ burn the place down behind you!” he promises with a squeeze.

“Do you have a least favorite song?”

“Anything sung in a round can get f*cked, and I don’t care who knows I said it!”

Stede scratches this sentiment down as emphatically as a square inch of parchment will allow. “We’re getting down to the end here…” he notes. “Yes to bagpipes, yes to song dedications?”

“Aww, why not.”

“In addition to the musical entertainment, they offer a comedian?”

Ed flinches. “No comedians! At our wedding?” He sounds disgusted. “If anyone even tries being funnier than you, I’ll flip a table, tie ‘im to the legs and stretch the bastard, right then and there.”

Stede blushes at the compliment. “No comedians…”

The last bit is cramped right at the bottom of the page. An afterthought.

“Will we need a step stool provided, yes or no?” Stede reads aloud.

“…What?” To beat the daylights out of would-be comedians with? Ed wonders.

“I have no idea.”

“Eh,” Ed shrugs. “Leave it blank.”

“I’m sure that's more than enough arrangements for them to be getting on with,” Stede agrees. He winds up the scroll again, sets aside the ink and quill on the nightstand, and excuses himself to go stab the questionnaire to the door.

When he returns, Ed gives him a quizzical look. “Whazzat?”

“What’s what?”

Ed flicks his finger. “That blob on you.”

“What blob?” Stede looks down at himself, and right away, he sees it. How could he have missed it, really? “Oh no, the ink!”

It must have dripped on his chest, while writing in bed!

“Missed your shirt, at least,” Ed says brightly. He knows how Stede hates to ruin a staple garment. He does it routinely himself, in service of their lovemaking, but he knows.

“sh*t!” Stede rubs at the stain on his skin, but it’s already seeping in. “Didn’t I just clean up? I didn’t get it anywhere else, did I? Oh no! Is it on my face? This can’t be happening!”

Ed beckons Stede back. “C’mon, I’ll clean it up. Or make it worse! Your pick.”

“Worse?!” Stede scowls down at the offending mark on his chest. “We’re getting married day after tomorrow! This is unpresentable!”

“It’ll fade!” Ed laughs. “B’sides, Chattering and I were under the impression you’d be fully dressed…”

“Oh, I suppose no one else will really see…” Stede huffs. “But I want to be perfect for you. I want everything to be perfect! All the drinks, all the decisions-”

“Stede.” Ed furrows his brow and beckons him again.

Pouting all the way, Stede dips a rag in the wash basin and then finally returns to Ed at the bed. He stands between his feet and sulks until Ed touches him. Then it all evaporates.

“Nahhh, you gotta take this all off,” Ed tuts. “Let it all go.” He pushes Stede’s robe off his shoulders and hauls his shirt overhead, careful not to let it contact any ink. There, lover, he thinks as he skims his hands up Stede’s bare body. Perfect perfect perfect. “You are perfect,” Ed purrs. He daubs at the stain, with an easy smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m being a child-”

“You’re stressed!” Ed allows. “Got a lot of plates spinning-”

“That reminds me, the plates!” Stede sways on his feet, toward the door. “Before we turn in, I ought to check that none of them broke, in transit-”

Ed catches him by the hip. “Relaaax, man. Anybody’d be honored to eat slop off the floor at our wedding, let alone on a cracked plate.”

“Oh, Edward. That’s so sweet of you to say.”

The ink doesn’t seem to be budging with the help of the rag, anyway, so Ed pulls him close and kisses his belly. I mean it, lover. You’re perfect. “Mm. They can eat sh*t, or you can hold up everything for days, and weeks- f*cking months, till you and all your plates are spotless,” he says. “I’m happy either way.”

Stede can’t help but laugh at himself. He embraces Ed’s head and sighs. “I couldn’t hold up the wedding for months…”

"Why not?" Ed chuckles into his chest. “I love a good siege.”

“But whatever will we do to pass the time?” Stede asks, leadingly.

I have some ideas... Ed kisses him again and then drags his tongue in a stripe up Stede’s spotted sternum, ink be damned. Hmm. Doesn’t taste like much. He does a loop de loop to be certain, and then pulls back. “Stede!”

“Mmm?”

“Let me make it worse?”

Stede laughs. “But you’ve just made it better!”

Ed lunges away, regardless, reaching for something on his nightstand. The ink and quill! He motions for Stede to get back on the bed and bites the wrong end of the feather, breaking off a piece of the shaft. As he dips the pointed corner of the feather into the ink, Stede understands.

“Ah! A paint brush!” Without further delay, he lays himself out, to be Ed’s canvas. “I see…”

“Here, mate. Gimme those.” Ed plucks Stede spectacles off and places them on himself, to rather expert effect. “What would you want, if I gave you a proper tattoo?” he asks. “I did my own doubloon, and the dagger on m’leg, you know. I’m pretty f*ckin’ good.”

There are a thousand lovely things that Stede would wish never to forget- things he might gladly make permanent. Damask patterns, fragments of verse, and species of flowers- but there is one thing that rises above the rest.

“What if it was a banner and arrow that said, ‘My eyes are up here?’”

“Dick,” Ed snorts and gives his chest a flick.

Stede catches his hand and holds it, just beside the ink stain. “I’ve often thought- if only I could keep your touch, your hand, right here by my heart. What about that?”

Ed smiles down on him. “Reckon I can swing that.”

It delights Ed to realize that their established ‘sides’ of the bed have persisted even ashore. Not that Ed gives a sh*t whether he’s the innie or the outtie- but he enjoys knowing his place in their little unit. As much as he likes to be surprised by Stede, he loves that he can expect things, and have things expected of him. When he wakes, his gallant Stede will be between him and the door. He is guarded, and kept in a way no one has ever bothered to cherish him before. In return Ed keeps Stede warm, no matter how chilly the night outside of the window. That could be his only job, the rest of his f*cking life, and he’d be fulfilled! Well. Maybe not by that alone, but he’d be perpetually in bed with Stede, so surely it’d come with other fulfillings. In any event, Ed continues to take his duty as a human furnace very seriously this morning, making sure to tuck the blankets up around Stede as he slips out of bed. He pats the covers over his chest, where a painted heart and fingertips just peek out- his handiwork from last night. Ed’s been wracking his brain for what the f*ck he could possibly offer as a wedding present to the man who has everything, and this may be just the ticket.

Quiet as a cat, Ed dresses in his usual for the day, though he’d much rather be rolling up the silk stockings of his wedding suit than dragging on his leathers. Just one more day. One more day and then every day will be a treat! Every day will be comfort and happiness and getting his back absof*ckinlutely blown out by his very own husband, officially! Forever! For better and worse, ‘til death do they make it everyone else’s f*ckin’ problem! But first there’s gonna be about a thousand odds and ends to attend to today, so he’d better get a move on and go fetch some tea. If people think Ed is ruthless on an empty stomach, they should really beware a breakfastless Stede.

Downstairs, the tavern is remarkably quiet. The long candle tapers that were left to burn all night are puddles now, oozing over every surface alongside dozing pirates. Mostly Jackie’s husbands, displaced from their rooms by the Revenge crew- and then Izzy, off in his own corner. He looks about as dark and murky as his coffee, until Ed plops into the seat across from him.

“Hey!”

“Morning, Captain.”

“Need you to handle something for me,” Ed nods.

Izzy perks right up. “Is he dead?” he asks, in an urgent whisper. “Did you slit his gullet in the night and leave him in the bathtub? I can work with that, Edward. Whatever you’ve done, we’ll get through it! His crew might put up a fight, but-”

“No! Pfft, Iz.” Ed rolls his eyes. “I just need you to find a potioneer.”

“...To poison Bonnet?”

“Would you give it a rest?” Ed sighs. “This beef with Stede is exhausting. I just want some ink and stuff. Like to do a tattoo.”

“Ah.” It takes Izzy a moment to recalibrate, during which he sips his coffee. It must taste foul, by the look on his face. “On yourself?” he asks.

Ed almost tells him otherwise, but thinks better of it while poison is still swirling in the conversation. “Mhmm! ‘Preciate it, mate. I dunno if Belladonna’s still in business, or not, but give ‘er my best if that’s where you wind up. And an invite to the wedding!”

Before he can get back up from the table, Izzy lowers his mug with a gavel-like thud. “Belladonna may be retired,” he says, thoughtfully. “Lot of that going ‘round these days...”

“Maybe,” Ed shrugs. “That old witch’s been looking as gnarly and near death as a hangman’s tree for decades.”

Izzy's already furrowed brow deepens as grievously as a hatchet wound. “What am I supposed to do if she’s retired? If she’s just closed up shop, without warning?”

“f*ck, mate! Find another shop!” This time Ed does push up from his seat. “S’not that big a deal.”

“But Belladonna was legendary,” says Izzy. “Once you’ve been loyal to the best, how can you stoop to some pretender?”

“Aww, if anyone can do it, Iz!” Ed gives him a double thumbs up and steps backwards with a Good Vibes or Else grin plastered across his face. “I know I can count on you!”

“Always,” Izzy hisses.

“Oh, f*ck, I almost forgot!” Ed spins a full rotation on his heel and points at Izzy for one last thing. “Somebody’s gotta go back to the harbor and feed and water the tailors in the brig,” he tells him. “Like, right away. Completely slipped my mind they were still in there when we left yesterday.”

Izzy grits his teeth. “f*ckin’ fripperin’ twats…”

It’s not really Belladonna or the tailors that Izzy’s got himself sweating buckets about, of course. Ed knows that. But he can’t see clear to promising Izzy that nothing will change when everything is changing, and it’s the best f*cking outcome anyone could have hoped for. A few weeks ago, Ed would have guaranteed Izzy that Blackbeard would be dead by year’s end. Izzy wouldn’t have liked that! This- this new start- is a vast improvement on their whole gig just being f*cking over, and when Izzy stops being butthurt, he’ll realize that. Meanwhile, all Ed can do is try and keep him busy. Idle Hands, as they say.

With Izzy sent off, Ed orders Chugs (paradoxically the least hungover of Jackie’s husbands) to scrounge up some Stede worthy breakfast, and then helps to lug it all upstairs.

“Fabulous!” smiles Stede, opening the door to their room. He stands back to allow their trays through, and hastily wraps himself into his robe. “I was just fretting if I should put in an order before or after I found you. I wasn’t sure how far you’d wandered…”

“Busy day,” Ed says. “Figured I should get the ball rolling!”

Just as soon as Ed lays down his tray, Stede gratefully kisses his cheek good morning. “You do put an admirable spin on it, darling. Is that cinnamon toast I smell?”

Ed turns into Stede’s nuzzle and captures his lips properly. “Only the best for you, lover.”

“Mmm. Must be, if you’re for me…”

Chugs clears his throat. “Anything else, sirs? Should I take away towels? Freshen up the jar of blood?” He points a knife at his own arm, ready to supply.

Stede pulls away with a sigh. “Not just now, thank you.”

“Anything you need, just give a shout.” Chugs stumbles his way through a curtsy crossed with a salute and then he sees himself out.

For whatever reason, there’s only one chair in the room without a built in co*ck, so Ed and Stede resort to picnicking on the bed. That’s all right. More and more, this is becoming Ed’s favorite place to strategize. He loves to lounge and listen to Stede expound the history of the phrase ‘Divide and conquer’ in three different dead languages. He loves to rattle off itineraries with him, even if they always fall apart the moment they meet with reality. He loves their nitpicking, and workshopping, and weaseling his way into taking on errands he knows Stede detests. He loves making things easy and enjoyable for him, and knowing that Stede always strives to do the same for him. Even if he practically has to wrestle the f*cker into letting him be the one to break it to Geraldo that Buttons will be officiating...

“-And I’d like to find some more feathers, if I can, to put in with the floral arrangements. There must be someone in town with a cache of ostrich. I’ll have to dye them the right color myself, but they’ll have long enough to dry, before tomorrow, I think!”

“Feathers would be great,” Ed hums dreamily. Tomorrow, tomorrow. All he can think of is when the dust has settled tomorrow, and they’re alone once more. Feather soft touches. Teasing tongues. Tangled limbs.

“You’re welcome to join me for the tablescaping, if you’ve made good headway on your own list, of course! Make sure you like the look of it, too!”

“‘Course I wanna help,” Ed chuckles. “I’m the queen f*cking consort to your king of quality control.” He leans across the way to give Stede a kiss. You can bend me over each and every table, make sure they’re strong enough to hold all your fancy plates…

Stede whimpers. “On second thought-”

“Knock knock!” calls a voice, in time with a wooden rap at the door. “Jackie’d like to say good mornin’ and see what Jackie can do to help y’all…”

“Hhrmph,” Ed grumbles, as he breaks away from Stede. “Hold that thought,” he says, gesturing for Stede to stay put while he gets the door.

Jackie stands in the hall, as imperturbable as ever with her striking height and immaculate sense of style. She betrays no smile for the very profitable turn of events that she has found herself the center of, but Ed can still feel the self satisfaction radiating off of her. She’s a f*cking boss, and she knows it, but game recognizes game.

“Blackbeard,” she nods, with a proud and pleasant tone. “Good to have you here…”

“SJ,” Ed lifts his chin back. “Long time no see. How’s the rat race, then?”

“Jackie shut that down.”

“Oh?” Ed raises an eyebrow.

“Switched to crabs,” says Jackie, miming for effect. “Makes for better blood sport.”

“Got the snappy pincers!”

“And they can paint logos on the shells, and sh*t.”

“Love it.”

Jackie leans through the door then, with a glance into the room that leads Ed to think this is the first she’s seeing of it. “All kinds of upgrades at Jackie’s…”

Ed scrunches his nose. ‘Upgrade’ isn’t the word he’d use for this grotto of gloom, but what the f*ck. He steps back to welcome Jackie inside. “We appreciate your hospitality, of course,” he grins. “I believe you’ve met Stede, before?”

Jackie stops short at the sight of him, sitting up in the bed in only his shirt and robe, amidst a scattering of tablecloth swatches, china plates, and diagrams of flower arrangements. “Jackie’s seein’ this, but Jackie’s still working on believing it…” she mutters to herself.

“Good morning,” Stede bows his head. “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“f*ck.” Jackie blinks and turns to Ed. “So what’s the deal? Is he like, hung?”

Wouldn’t you like to know? Ed bites his lip, a bit too obviously.

“Ah, Jackie sees, Jackie sees…”

“I do hope the questionnaire we prepared last night was clear,” Stede says, gathering up more papers. “We’re awfully excited. We’re raring to dig in and pull it all together, today!”

“You’re spirited, Jackie will give you that,” Jackie appraises as she swaggers closer to Stede. “But actually, you did miss a question, little man.”

“The step stool,” Stede sighs. “It’s been troubling me!”

“Oh, no, no.” Jackie clucks her tongue. “Don’t you worry your pretty head over that!”

Wuh oh. Ed remembers then, and icy panic spikes through his gut. Just as Spanish Jackie reaches out to give Stede’s hair a tousle, he grips the sheet on the bed and gives it a mighty flap. Papers waft into the air and plates go crashing off to the floor, but Jackie backs away, too.

“Really, Ed?” Stede frowns at the wreckage. “What was that for?!”

“Saw a spider,” Ed lies. “Sorry, mate!” He quickly looks around, like it might have flown off somewhere. “Didn’t want you gettin’ bit.”

“Geraldo always goes overboard with the details,” Jackie grumbles as she brushes her clothes clean. “Motherf*ckin’ spiders...”

“But as you were saying,” Stede resumes, “the stool?”

“Hah. Yeah.” Jackie recovers from the upset with a grin. “If y’all want to consummate on the altar, Jackie provides a leg up.”

“Oh! Uhm.” Stede shoots Ed a concerned look that Ed can barely return. He’s not willing to take his eyes off Jackie until he can tell Stede what’s going on.

“We were thinking of going more nontraditional,” Ed says, tightly. “The wedding night’s just for us.”

Jackie chuckles. “You two… It’s almost enough to make Jackie believe in true love.”

Stede titters nervously. He can tell Ed is suddenly on guard, but they’re too far apart to touch so he can find out why. “That must be rather a common occurrence, for you,” he jokes to Jackie. At the same time he slides his hand further across the bed, toward Ed. “I hear you’re quite the romancer!”

But Ed opts for action over insight. He skirts around the bed to the ice box and grabs the complimentary jar o’ blood. “Oh yeah,” he tosses into the conversation. “Reckon if anyone has the credentials to throw the best wedding this side of the Atlantic, it’s Jackie…”

“Y’all too kind, too kind,” Jackie sighs. Whether she knows he’s gassing her up as a ploy or not, she makes another move. This time, she takes a seat on the edge of the bed beside Stede. “Ever since Jackie’s favorite husband was murdered, it’s been tough. Bleak. Jackie’s been biding her time, waiting for that ol’ spark to come back…” Jackie bats her eyelashes and sniffs theatrically, in the absence of actual tears.

Oh, no. This time it’s Stede who reaches out, intending to give a comforting pat. Ed loves Stede dearly for being as good a listener as he is, but not now, man! Without hesitation, Ed dives over the corner of the bed, launching the contents of his bloody jar all over Jackie.

“Eugh!” Stede recoils, just an inch before it’s too late.

“What the f*ck!” Jackie jumps to her feet.

“M’knee gave out,” Ed winces. “Oo! Ouch!”

“Oh, dear! Please sit down!” Stede scrambles across the bed, away from Jackie. “I’ll get a towel…”

Jackie narrows her eyes at Ed as he sits, huffing and puffing and rubbing his knee. “Yeah, you take it easy,” she says. “Last thing Jackie wants is for Blackbeard not to make it to his own wedding.”

If Stede missed out, though… Reckon she won’t be too torn up about it.

They get Jackie on the other side of the door without further f*ckery, but now Ed’s the one in the dog house.

Stede tries to squeeze past him to get another towel for their floor, but Ed sticks out a leg to keep him from running off. “Ed, what’s gotten into you?”

“Ghhhf*ck.” Ed rubs his face with both hands. “I’m sorry, mate. That was a f*ckin' mess.”

Stede sighs and lays his hands on Ed’s shoulders. “It’s not the end of the world,” he says, reasonably. “Even if it wasn’t an accident. Even if you’re maybe feeling nervous, and you have-”

“No!”

“-Cold feet?”

“Stede.” Ed shakes his head. “S’not feet, it’s hands!”

Stede’s expression plunges. “Darling? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jackie,” Ed says. “Jackie’s like us!”

In a flash, Stede morphs from dread to curiosity. “Not another mind reader, is she?” he wonders. “…Would that be so terrible?”

"I don’t know how to explain it- it’s not minds exactly, but it’s men!” Ed says. “Whatever it is, it’s how she’s got all these f*ckin’ husbands coming out ‘er ears.”

“Huh!”

"Just one touch and they- I don’t know if they instantly love her, or she mind controls them, or what, but she chopped one of her own hands off because of it, so-”

“No, no, I take your point!” Stede says. “It must be so powerful, even she can barely stand it…”

Exactly! Ed lets go of a pent up breath, now that Stede is clear of danger. He wraps a hand around Stede's wrist for a rub.I’d kill her. I’d kill anyone who came at me and I’d break every f*cking truce on the island. I won’t let her have you-

“Ed, it’s all right! I know now, and I’ll keep my distance,” Stede assures him. “And I won’t let her get you, either.”

Ed tosses his arms around Stede’s middle in a relieved hug. “f*ck. Thank God,” he huffs. “I’m just sorry I forgot to warn you.”

“That’s all right, dear,” Stede laughs. “We’re all right, aren’t we?”

“Just been so scatterbrained, with planning everything. I don’t know how you’ve kept it all up there! ‘Cuz you’re bloody brilliant, I reckon.”

“Hardly!” Stede scoffs. Then he curls to kiss Ed’s head. “Oh, my beloved. It’s hard to think of anything else, but how I’m so happy to be marrying you...”

Yes! You’re the only thing that fits in my brain! I’m a total dickhe*d!

Distractable dickhe*ds that they are, they have to force themselves apart to get anything done, today. Stede heads off with most of the crew to deal with the chapel, and flowers, and last minute shopping, while Ed bounces around the tavern to oversee prep for the feast. Stede entrusted him with the blueprint of how he wants all the decoration and furniture, and how much space to leave for dancing, and social flow. Ed drills Jackie’s husbands on how to lay out the silverware they looted for the occasion, and which glass is to be used to serve which drink. They don’t dare question even the most lunatic, most particular of Stede’s diagrams when coming from Ed, for fear he’ll use their skulls to fill in any gaps in the design. It’s a terrific system.

“Hang that just a little closer in, on the left,” Ed points, from his command post at the bar. “You want the cloth to swag, mate!”

Geraldo sighs and cups his hands to holler across the room. “Your other left, Figgins!”

Ed pulls out his gun and fires off a round just left of Figgins’ head, making him flinch in the right direction. “f*cking hell!”

“It’s so hard to get good help these days,” Geraldo apologizes to Ed.

“Tell me about it.”

Geraldo shakes his head and slides two new pieces of parchment across the bar top. “Anyway. Lotta people in town for this,” he says. “If you wanna make a list, we’ll keep the back most room reserved for Very Important Pirates, only… Aaand here’s another list for anyone who’s banished.”

“Great…”

“So!” Geraldo claps his hands and then plants his fists on his hips. “I gotta go do some housekeeping, but you’re cool if I let you hang out for a bit, right?”

“Yeah, man.” Without looking up Ed paws the papers over, so he can get those lists started. He’s not the best speller in the world, but he can always jot down flags and stick figures, if letters fail him. But after he scratches down a few lines, he senses that Geraldo still hasn’t buggered off yet. “Uh. Anything else?” Ed checks.

Geraldo bites his lip to keep from beaming too hard. “Sir, I just wanna say, I am so crazy honored to be a part of your big day. Bigger day than my own wedding, performing yours, haha!”

“Oh, right.” Ed’s supposed to tell him that he’s been sh*tcanned. He gives Geraldo’s arm a patronizing pat, and again gets a vision of his imminent demise. So imminent, it's as crystal clear as Stede’s stemware. Geraldo’s even wearing the same clothes, with his necktie tied in exactly the same lopsided way. Dang. This guy’s dying to-f*ckin’-night! You know what? Ed’s not gonna tell him Buttons has the gig. This is a problem that will solve itself if he ignores it. “Cheers!” Ed smiles.

“Don’t tell Jackie I said that, though, or she’ll shoot off my balls, eh?” Geraldo chuckles and gives Ed a bro shove.

“Nahhh,” laughs Ed. “Not your balls!”

“You’re all right, man!”

“You’re all right!”

For now.

So, Ed spends the better part of his afternoon vaguely wondering who’s gonna take over once Geraldo carks it, correcting the blunders of the decoration committee, and wracking his brain for what other apples might be capable of spoiling the barrel.

Povy? Yeah, that guy’s on the sh*t list.

Hornigold can suck a fart out of Ed’s arse. Not that they'd be able to keep him out if he wanted in... But they should at least take a hefty bribe first, he notes.

Oggy Bulldown. Is he dead yet? Better to be safe.

Ed makes it as far as the grudges of 1714 when it occurs to him there may be a few villains of Stede’s past to add. Maybe that Dutch dude who puked on him during a raid. Certainly the former in-laws who wanted to have him killed. And don’t forget Stede’s own, unloving parents. Wait- would it be funnier to put them on the VIP list, with front row seats? Is it too late to opt for f*cking on the altar in front of them?

There are footsteps descending the stone steps into the tavern then, and Ed perks up. Might be Stede come back. He’ll get a good laugh out of this!

“Ed! Ed!”

“Over here!” Ed calls, craning over the bar. But it’s not Stede’s customary white stockinged legs trotting down. It’s black leather. He would’ve sworn…

“Edward,” growls Izzy, hoofing into full view. “I told you. I told you he was to be your ruin!”

Ed drags himself to his feet with a groan. “What the f*ck are you on about, now?”

Izzy pushes back disheveled hair and huffs, catching his raspy breath. “I did as you asked,” he says. “I went to Belladonna’s...”

A drawstring bag clatters on the bar top, in evidence.

“What, didja rip her off and do a runner?”

“He was there!” Izzy shouts. He points a furious finger. “Bonnet was there, shopping for a curse breaker!”

“Ed!”

That voice really, definitely is Stede. He comes running in, looking as though someone tripped him in the dirt, a moment ago.

“Stede, what happened?”

“I scuffed my new shoes,” Stede laments. “But that’s not important-”

Ed rushes to put his body between the two as Izzy reaches for his sword. He grabs his own gun and levels it, right back. They both know this isn’t how Izzy dies, and there’s a blanket truce between the pirates on this island to keep the mayhem within reason, but Izzy is not exactly reasonable when it comes to Stede…

“Can’t even fight for yourself, you useless f*ckin’-”

Ed shakes his head. “Choose your words wisely, Izzy.”

“He’s trying to destroy you, Edward,” Izzy insists. Even at the wrong end of Ed’s gun, he does not lower his sword. “He went to Belladonna for something that would take away your visions!”

Stede blusters, pointing right back over Ed’s shoulder. “Which he only knows, because he was loitering in the poison aisle!”

Jackie’s husbands gasp in chorus.

“He doesn’t even deny it! Don’t you see?!”

“I don’t!” Stede says, his voice becoming sturdy. He surges against Ed’s arm, struggling to be more beside him than behind him. “Of course I’d never force it on you, but I wanted to offer it, as a wedding present…”

“See?!” Izzy’s eyes bulge. “All this! All this wedding dross! He’s only marrying you to trick you into-”

“He’s not f*cking tricking me into doing anything! Unlike some, he doesn’t have to force me to do his bidding...” Ed flicks his eyes to the blade between them, quite convenient to his point.

Izzy shakes his head so violently it's a wonder it doesn’t pop off his shoulders. “He wants to make you weak, he wants you powerless, and if you let him, then that’s exactly what you are!”

A thousand times, Ed has heard the phrase ‘a blind rage’, but he sees more clearly in his fury than ever. Izzy could never understand wanting to be softer, gentler, and peaceful. He wants to die in battle. He always craves the fight, and for as long as he’s around, he’ll keep dragging Ed back into it. He'll never listen to what Ed wants. He’ll never give up. He’ll never give Ed anything, he’ll only take and take, chopping away at Ed’s humanity until he wishes he was dead. He already had, before Stede came along.

“I asked Stede for this, so he made it a gift,” Ed seethes through gritted teeth. He pulls back the hammer of his gun, even though he knows it’s still unloaded from earlier. Izzy doesn’t know that. “What gifts have you given me, exactly?” Ed asks.

Stunned that Ed would go this far, Izzy stops breathing for a moment. “Years of my life,” he says quietly. As his brow knits in fear, lines draw in his face that indeed were not there when they first met. Finally, Izzy lowers his sword and drops it on the ground.

“Kick it.”

Izzy does.

Ed chokes down a thick, horrible, but survivable feeling in his throat. Obviously he can't actually shoot Izzy, but he can do this. He can put Izzy out on his arse. He can do anything.

“Right. Yeah,” he agrees. Ed lowers his arm and lets Stede come to his side, shoring up his strength and his mercy. “And Stede? It’s his wedding too, you know,” Ed reminds Izzy. Grovel, if you know what’s good for you.

Izzy lifts his chin at Stede, disarmed but defiant. “I don’t imagine I’ve ever had anything your airy fairy likes would want,” he says. “Nothing you haven't already taken for yourself.”

“Yes, as with combat, I’m afraid ‘Envy’ is more your expertise than mine.” Stede curls his lip contemptuously. “But in absence of you possessing absolutely anything of appeal… one glove will do.”

God, he’s brilliant. Izzy totally embarrassed himself, attempting snobby brinksmanship as his parting shot. Ed watches as Izzy painstakingly peels off the glove on his right hand and surrenders it to Stede. Insult added to injury, Stede grips his now ungloved hand in a determined, long held shake. What must he be thinking, beneath the pose of civility?

“Congratulations,” Izzy snarls.

“Why thank you! I know Ed and I will be absolutely blissful together.”

But before Ed can really light Izzy’s arse on fire, Jackie comes storming down from the inn in a flurry of ruffled edged pajama robes. “The f*ck is all this racket?” she demands. “Do you know how hard it is for Jackie to take a siesta with all these f*ckin’ husbands up Jackie’s ass?”

Stede, already on full alert, somehow goes even puffier and more formidable, like an angry bird shaking out its wings. “They’ve been in on it together!” he shrills. “Mr. Hands was going to trap me in a pit, for her to fish out!”

“f*cking hell!” Ed throws his hands up in disbelief. “S’that true, Jackie?”

She shrugs a non committal shoulder. “Jackie is not about hiking in the jungle,” she says. “Jackie was hoping to get it done here, before it came to that.”

“Well cut it the f*ck out!” Ed tells her.

“Yeah, whatever,” she agrees. “Your man’s kinda cute but he ain’t worth all that.”

“Oh, f*ck this,” Izzy huffs impatiently. Things are not breaking his way. He dives at Jackie, grabbing her wrist and dragging her toward his target.

“Ah! You little-”

Ed scoops an arm around Stede and they whirl each other out of the way, in an impromptu waltz. “Other than this, how’s your day been, lover?” Ed grins.

“Such fun,” Stede smiles back. “Would you believe it, our gang are natural botanists?”

“I’ve seen the Swede eat a bouquet of petunias right off your desk, so yeah.”

When they come to a stop, Izzy is on his knees, grappling at Jackie’s leg. “Please, Jackie. Jackie, if you don’t take me as your husband, I’ll die!”

“Oh sh*t,” Ed snorts. “Did he…?”

“Oops!” Stede dangles Izzy’s glove in the air between them- the one that he used to rely on to keep from setting off Ed’s power.

Ed’s eyebrows practically leap off his face. “Well that’s one way to get him out of my hair.”

Stede smirks. “You’d think a man named Hands would know better than to try and force another’s…”

“C’mon, man, give Jackie a break.” Jackie uses her wooden hand to prod Izzy off of her, or at least- not all the way up her body. “Getting slobber on Jackie’s pajamas. Just killed Jackie’s best laundry boy.”

“I’ll do all your laundry. I’ll lick it clean. I’ll scrub it with my beard, I’ll patch it with my own skin!”

Jackie sighs. “Suppose one needy bitch is as good as another.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” Izzy pants. He clutches at her hands and kisses her rings. “You’ll never regret-”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jackie stops him. “Your ass is sleeping outside ‘til you settle down… Do Jackie a favor and drag Geraldo out to the gutter for the pigs, on your way out.”

Stede grimaces at Ed. “Is our wedding planner dead?”

“He interrupted Jackie’s nap.”

“Well,” Stede tsks. “That’ll do it.”

Ed flags down Jackie before she heads back upstairs. “Quick question. Who should I be handing off my paperwork to?”

Jackie glances around at the nearby options. Chugs is nursing a nervous nosebleed, and Figgins seems to require two hands to place a single stick of silverware. “Herv!” She snaps her fingers. “You can read?”

Herv, a spindly, walking sack of bones, looks up from his project with unadulterated glee. His moment has come! He is the favored husband! “Yes, Miss Jackie!”

Jackie turns back to Ed. “Herv.”

“Alrighty!” Ed clicks his tongue. “Don’t let us keep you from that nap of yours.”

It’s a whirlwind after that. The crew Stede had taken flower picking come back, laden with their quarry. Stede sets them all in competition to make the best possible centerpiece, and then appoints the winner, Fang, as Flower Captain. With that delegated, Ed and Stede can turn their attention to approving dishes for the feast. Roach rolls out a parade of courses that will put the local chefs of the Republic to shame for years to come. Quail eggs in nests of noodle. Kebab skewers loaded with rainbows of cheese and candied fruit. Steaks cut into hearts, in a gravy of cream and wine. Pavlovas sprinkled with bacon that absolutely should not work, but absolutely f*cking do. Ed matches how Stede pats his mouth with the corner of a napkin, all genteel like, but it can’t hide either of their smiles.

“Now I see what Jackie’s on about,” Ed tells him. “We should get all dressed up and married once a month, at least!”

Stede’s eyes crinkle and glint at the idea. “Only- our suits won’t fit for long if we feast like this,” he points out.

“Not a problem,” says Ed. “We’ll elope to our cabin and renew in the nude.”

“Oh yes. And to save the hassle of getting all the plates out again, I’ll have pavlova from the bowl of your palm.”

Ed leans between their chairs to one up Stede with a nosy rub on the cheek. “Mmnn… I’ll nibble nectarine from your navel...”

“Apple chips from your lips,” Stede suggests, as he turns to give Ed a demonstrative, nipping kiss.

Always one to give as good as he gets, Ed slips his tongue into Stede’s mouth. Lick cream out your-

“Oh, barf,” says Lucius, just then arriving to their table in the tavern. “I mean. Boss! Bosses! How’re we doing?”

Lucky for Lucius, Herv took the knife and fork away along with his last plate, but Ed gives him a daggery look for interrupting just as readily. “We’re f*ckin’ great,” Ed growls.

“We’ve just finished our tasting,” Stede informs Lucius. “Absolutely scrumptious. How are the souvenirs going, upstairs?”

“That’s actually why I came down…” Lucius whirls a finger towards the inn above. “We’re ready for you to put your final touch on it.”

Ed waggles an eyebrow at Stede. “Aren’t we all?”

Though Ed could do with a poke into the kitchen to see if there’s any tasty scraps left, it’s no sweat off his back to head upstairs instead. All he’s gotta do is make his mark on a whole buncha sh*t, quick as you like, and then he and Stede will be oh so conveniently next door to their bed. They can duck in for a cheeky shag, then keep on rolling, right over to the rehearsal this evening.

That’s the hope, anyway, before Ed lays his eyes on a stack of crates that fills every inch of Lucius and Pete’s room that isn’t already occupied by furniture. Each is filled with a dozen bottles of wine, all trussed up with a bow of raffia grass, and a heart shaped tag, partially filled out. Ed and Stede squeeze together on top of a trunk and work out a system to have the boys run the bottles around for signing, but f*ck! It’s been a day of non-stop paperwork. Even if they get these blasted things all done with time to spare, his hand will be too cramped to be much use in the sack. This calls for some slacking off.

Thank you for joining
our celebration!
Stede Bonnet and X
~1717~

That’ll do it.

“Do what?” Stede gives Ed a conspiratorial look as their fingers meet at the neck of a bottle.

“Get us outta here quicker,” Ed smirks. “S’more ‘Blackbeardy’ anyway.”

“Ah! That’s my clever one,” Stede smiles back. “However you’d like to go about it.”

“Maybe I should send Pete for the blood? Could really lean into expectation,” Ed winks.

He doesn’t mind playing the scoundrel so much, when it’s in service of stealing time alone with his partner in crime.

“Sir!” Pete has tensed at the sound of his name, bright eyed and eager as a pup. “Whatever I can do!”

“Yeah, yeah, in the icebox in our suite,” Ed waves him off on the errand. “No need to drool on the memorabilia in there… S’all fake!”

A moment later, there’s still a gasp of “Holy sh*t!” through the hallway as Pete gets an eyeful of the room. He returns a moment later with the blood jar and sheepish expression. “While you’re signing things, sir. I just thought, uhm. Maybe-”

“Here!” Ed dips his quill and beckons forth whatever it is Pete has to offer. His tunic, as it turns out. “There ya go, mate.”

Pete marvels at the addition of the scarlet X, carefully touching just beside it so it doesn’t smear. “Wow. This is so fancy, now. I should wear this to the wedding!”

Lucius tilts his head fondly and pouts his lip. “Aww, babe! It’s your only shirt. You get to wear it everywhere.”

“Omigod.”

Fanciness aside, it really puts a pep in the lad’s step. Pete takes the bottles as they are completed, scurries over to replace them in a crate, Lucius brings Stede the next bottle, Ed takes it off Stede, and so on and so on…

Until Ed gets restless again. He clasps his hand over Stede’s and guides him to slot a bottle between his thighs.

That remind you of anything? Eh?

Stede sighs goodnaturedly. “Everything reminds you of it,” he teases.

“What can I say?” Ed bats his eyelashes. “I’m a romantic.”

“Yeah, very romantic, groping in front of your employees,” says Lucius. He hands Stede the next bottle.

“If you think this is bad, boy, you’ll be happy to know we turned down the step stool.”

Stede gives the wine a run for its money, turning red. “Oh good Lord, that again…”

Lucius frowns. “The wha?”

“You know,” Pete huffs, on tip toe to reach into a crate, “a step stool would kinda help, right about now…”

“It turned up in our room, anyway,” Ed tells Stede.

“Did it?”

“Oh yeah.” Ed overlaps Stede’s fingers while passing the bottle again. Whaddaya say, lover? Wanna hurry up in here, and give it a go?

“Actually, I was thinking-”

“-We haven’t taken advantage of the bearskin rug yet?” Take advantage of me on said rug, more like…

Stede pauses to consider for a tantalizing fraction of a moment, then shakes his head. “I was thinking,” he says, in a sultry hush, “it might be awfully romantic if we held off. We could let our anticipation… build.”

“Hnng.” Ed slings an arm around Stede’s neck. “However you’d like to go about it,” he grins, on his way to plant him with a wet one. I’m marrying a f*cking sex genius.

Lucius, who has been attempting to give Stede the next bottle this entire time, throws his hands in the air. “It’d be more productive if I got two rabbits in here!” he snaps.

Ed parts from Stede with a whine. “What? We just agreed we weren’t gonna sneak off to f*ck.”

“Yeah, it definitely wouldn’t have been sneaking,” says Lucius. “That requires an element of secrecy.” He flicks his wrists at the pair of them to shoo. “Whatever! You can go! I’ll just… forge the rest of these signatures.”

Stede lights up like bonfire. “Lucius! That’s so underhanded of you! See, I knew we’d make a pirate of you, yet.”

“Can I do the Blackbeard?!” Pete asks.

Ed heaves himself to his feet and hands him the jar of blood. “Knock yourself out.”

When they leave the room and pass their own door, Ed expects to ignore it- but Stede takes his hand and pulls him inside.

I thought we-

“I’d like to take a moment,” says Stede. He peers up at Ed with the sort of kind, concerned expression that is often closely followed by a smidge of tears. “The afternoon’s been such a blur- but we should talk about what happened.”

Talk it through, as a crew, comes unbidden to Ed’s mind. But then he blanks. “Wuh. What about?”

Stede smiles patiently. “I think sorting out the drama with Mr. Hands was so immediate a concern, we rather glossed over the matter of the potion.”

“sh*t, yeah…”

“I apologize that I added fuel to that fire,” Stede says. “I should have spoken with you about it again, anyway. So much has changed since-”

No, no, no, you didn’t do anything wrong! Ed gathers up Stede’s hands and brushes his finger tips with kisses. “I asked you! I asked you ages ago if you could help, and-” Well, you have!

Every second that they hold hands, the world brightens. Time slows, almost, so Ed can breathe easier. He can see Stede, layered on himself, there for him always, and dispelling the darkness, even in as sepulchral a setting as this black f*cking box. Even in death.

“Are you all right, my love? Truly?” Stede asks. He squeezes Ed’s hands back. “The potion smashed when I tripped, but I could always visit the potioneer again.”

“Bahhh.” Ed chuckles. “Probably bunk anyway, mate. Me n’ Belladonna already threw everything at the bloody wall, years ago.”

Stede wilts. “Oh…”

Don’t. Don’t worry. Ed leans to press his forehead to Stede’s for a meeting of the minds. "You did right." You’re always right. "Except about duck liver appetizers!"

Stede laughs, music to Ed’s ears.

“You were right, Stede,” Ed repeats. “So much has changed.”

“I never meant to rush you-”

“No, I know.”

Stede nods against him, and nuzzles in, kissing his cheek. “I love you, Ed,” he says. “I only want you to be happy.”

Lovehappyhappylovelovelove. It’s not quite enough holding Stede’s hands, though. Ed has to hold all of him. “I am. So f*cking happy,” he assures his lover, rocking him in his arms. “I don't even feel cursed anymore, really. D’you?”

Stede huffs another laugh and kisses Ed’s nose. “Not at all.”

Hard to feel it all through my super sexy bod all over you, I know, I know. You sure you don’t wanna mess around? I won’t tell tomorrow night if you don’t.

“Ed!” Stede squeezes him back, chidingly. “But no, no I don't feel cursed. I could never give this up. Having all of you at my fingertips…”

Ed hums a kiss into Stede’s neck. “Me neither,” he agrees. I touch you, I kiss you, I know you’re safe. You’ll be safe. I’ll be safe with you. You’ll be happy, and I’ll be part of it-

“All of it, darling.”

Stede kisses him properly, and that settles that.

All of it. All of me and all of you. Happyhappyhappysof*ckinghappy.

“Mmm.”

Ed pries himself away from Stede’s skin before his overflow of enthusiasm can spoil their plans, but still he holds him tight. “Sorry that bastard ruined your present, though,” he says.

“Oh, pff.” Stede rolls his eyes. “As if that was my only surprise for you. What do you take me for?”

“My husband,” Ed says quickly. It makes his heart pound, to say.

Stede stops, just as joyously breathless. “Yes,” he sighs. “And as such! I owe you a wedding trousseau.”

“Ooo.” Ed doesn’t know what the f*ck that is, but be likes the sound of it. He loves a bit of that high class, kid glove treatment. He eagerly takes a seat on the edge of the bed, as proud as a princess, while Stede rushes to dig into their luggage. “Presents!” he cheers.

Stede looks up, over the lid of the trunk. “You don’t mind doing them a bit early?”

“f*ck no! I want treats!”

“Then treats you shall have! Close your eyes.”

“Hot.”

“Oh, hush!” says Stede. “I’ve already talked you off the step stool twice, now…”

Ed grins, blindly. “You can talk me off, all right. Is that the gift?”

“Don’t tempt me to throw it out the window, Edward!”

Ed giggles. Next thing he knows, something pillowy lands in his lap. When he opens his eyes, a neatly folded bundle of clothes awaits, tied with a big silky bow. “Oh, helloooo,” Ed coos, tucking his fingers in between the sumptuous layers. “Haven’t seen these before…”

Expectant as a moonrise, Stede hovers beside Ed as he pulls the bow loose and unfurls his gift. “I had Chattering do up a number of skirts, and gowns, and even a stays, if you like. There’s more in the trunk. Other colors…”

In Ed’s hands hangs a criminally soft, saffron colored cascade of silk. As if diverting all capacity for sense to his fingers, his mouth goes dry. “S’f*cking amazing,” he wheezes. “Holy f*ck.” It’s endlessly gorgeous, long and billowing. And all for him, to wrap up in and whirl in, and feel every inch as worthy as the hefty sum Stede would have paid for it- if he hadn’t kidnapped its maker, that is. f*ck, it’s even more extravagant, for that! Ed lifts an eyebrow at Stede. “But I thought you said you had a surprise for me?” he pouts.

Stede laughs as Ed jumps up and clambers him with a grateful hug. “I suppose there’s only so many times you can wish I’d ruck up your gown and make love to you in a pool of silk, before the cat rips the bag to shreds.”

“Rip me to shreds.” Ed barrages Stede with kisses. Thank you, lover. Love you. f*ck. Thank you. Of course, of f*cking course, you'd be the one to take a fantasy and make it real. You can cure f*cking curses and tame monsters and I’m not convinced you aren’t a goddamn wizard, after all…

“I’m glad you like it,” Stede beams, through the flurry.

“f*ckin’ love it,” Ed growls, just in case it wasn’t clear. He then steps back to hold the shift up against himself and take a spin. “I don’t even care I can’t top it!”

“Oh, come now,” Stede says charitably. “As though your wearing these confections won’t be a coup...”

With a lovelorn sigh, Ed lays down his beautiful present so he can dig out Stede’s. “Wait!” he says, before he crouches. “Close your eyes! And bear in mind, this is a two parter!”

Stede’s face scrunches adorably and he draws up his fists, tight to his chest. “I hope you haven’t gone to too much trouble, darling. You’ve already put so much work into getting everything perfect for the wedding. The hall is absolutely stunning-”

“Nahhh,” Ed tells him. “Made my minions do the work.” He fishes out the placard from his hiding spot and then bounds over to put it in Stede’s hands, without further ado.

The Gentleman Pyrate Flept Here, it reads.

Stede rubs his thumbs over the ornate metalwork, with a smug glance towards it mate hung on the wall over their bed. “That’s more like it,” he says.

“Blackbeard and The Gentleman Pyrate Flept Not a Wynk Here for f*cking Their Happ’ly Wedded Brainf Out didn’t fit, or I woulda done that,” Ed swears. “Either way... I don’t want a me without you.”

“My sweet Ed.” Stede sweeps back Ed’s hair and sneaks a hand to his nape. “I don’t ever want to be without you, either.”

“That’s part two,” Ed shivers. That’s forever.

Stede draws him in for a kiss. “Mmm,” he hums. “Of course, my love.”

Forever and ever and ever. Wanna be with you, around you, on you- forever. Always.

“You make a good case for it,” Stede chuckles.

“Really!” Ed insists. “Part two- I haven’t got it on me at the mo’, but I’ve bought ink and needle for your proper tattoo.”

“Oh, yes!” Stede takes a thrilled sip of breath as Ed’s fingers force their way between the buttons of his waistcoat, as close as they can get to the lines he painted on his chest last night. “I would love that. It’d take hours… Perfect activity for our honeymoon.”

“Day after tomorrow? We’d never even have to leave the bed, s’long as we remember to keep it near…”

“I will.” Stede squeezes Ed tight, in promise. “Can you wear the spectacles again?”

“I f*cking insist, after last time.”

“Hhhnff.”

Somehow, they manage to leave the room without having it off. Ed gets to see some of Stede’s hard work at the chapel, though some will only be activated for the big event. Still, it’s very impressive to bring together the Hus Band and the crew, and all that behind the scenes coordination, and to get it all on its feet. A wandleprobe, Stede calls it, because he may still secretly be a wizard.

“Now, as we join at the altar and the music ends- that’s when you start wafting the silks!” Stede points to corners of the chapel, which once had a roof, but now has only pillars reaching up into the night sky. Between the pillars there are crew on ladders who flap madly. “No, nope. Gently! More gently than that.”

“Like you don’t want to! Same way you mop,” Ed suggests.

That seems to achieve the right effect for Stede. He rolls his wrist to Buttons, stood just ahead of them. “And now, Mr. Buttons solemnizes-”

“Deadly, beloved friends,” Button barks out. Karl squawks too, atop his head. “Ye be gathered here this night, in the sight of Drowned Souls, ta witness marriage betwixt this gentleman and this gentle pirate…”

Stede raises a finger and looks to Ed. “Are we happy with that wording? It was a whim.”

“Yeah, I’m into it,” Ed nods.

Buttons clears his throat and drones on. “Any lovin’ fool can marry lawfully ta avert damnation, but the already damned who choose to marry? They be the true lovers!”

The pirates in attendance rabble and shout in agreement. It may be just a rehearsal, but it makes Ed’s stomach do a back flip that would be totally bad ass if it were a person.

“If man be better than the lusty beasties that have nae an understanding, it be because man makes his own law, and his own claw. And so, this is ours...”

Stede looks around for Oluwande, and delights that he has recognized his cue to come forward. “Ah! Perfect timing!”

“Captains.” Oluwande bows and offers forth a pillow bearing two matching daggers.

As Ed takes his, he sucks in a deep breath. There are no men left alive that have dared pointed a knife to his heart as Stede does now. There will never be one that survives putting his blade to Stede’s, either. He fits his off hand to Stede’s hip and holds steady. Sure. He’s never been more sure of anything than Stede, and he’s a f*cking prophet.

“Avast!” Buttons bellows. “Ye stand face ta face, poised as one another’s destruction, yet now swearing to protect?”

“Aye!” they reply, staring into each other's eyes.

“I charge ye, will ye have and hold one another, for better or worse?”

“I kinda prefer you at your worst,” Ed scrunches his nose at Stede.

“For worse, then,” Stede grins back.

“Aye, aye,” Buttons nods along, even if they are off script. “…For as rich as ye can steal?” he asks next.

“Aye!”

“Loving no king but the other?”

“Aye!” they declare, full throated.

“Even if the price be thy death?”

“We pay it!”

They lower their daggers, then. Ed is so narrowly focused on Stede and only Stede, bewitched by how f*cking badly he wishes it was already tomorrow so he could kiss his stupidly handsome face, over and over- he spooks when Oluwande appears at his elbow again.

“Wah!”

“Don’t stab the bag!” Oluwande reminds them. “Dry run!”

“Oh! Right. No consumables.” Stede shudders, as though waking from his own trance. “Ah, crew! This is where you’ll stop wafting, remember?”

“Stab means stop! Kiss means flop!” Wee John calls out, from behind a pillar.

“Flop?” Ed asks.

“It rhymed better than flap,” Stede says, quite accurately.

All around them the silks that have been undulating, imitating being underwater, drop to the stone floor. Then are glimpses of waving palm fronds, preparing for their next maneuver.

Buttons spreads his arms wide. “Then what these devils that hath joined together, let none but death put asunder,” he proclaims.

Frenchie and the Hus Band strike up their instruments, and Stede’s smile squirms, his lips struggling to keep from enacting what comes next.

“This is where we’d- ah!”

Ed swoops, catching him around the waist and leg and dipping Stede back like a swooned maiden. They musn’t kiss for real tonight, or spoil the reveal of all the special effects Stede has planned, but that's all right. If they want fireworks, it takes only a touch.

The silken, temporary walls of the chapel tremble all around them, and what can Stede do but follow suit? His hand clutching the ceremonial dagger, his legs, and his whole body shake- but he’s not afraid. He doesn’t worry whether or not things will go off without a hitch. He doesn’t care that at least a hundred bloodthirsty men and who knows how many ghosts are watching him. He doesn’t fear that he’s unsuited for marriage, or that he’ll disappoint Ed, or be himself disappointed. He vibrates with joy. He chose this. He planned it all! He celebrates it and craves it and is doing his very best to memorize every blessed moment. His unparalleled delight is simply overtaking him from every direction, batting him around like a windstorm.

He locks on to Ed as they make their vows. So proud and steady and his. The heavy hand Ed lays at his hip. His toothy grin. The way his eyes catch every fleck of lamp and star light and yet shine only on him. He’s absolutely arresting dressed all in red satin- Stede knew he would be. Ed is the living, breathing, loving joli rogue to end them all. Terrifically beautiful. Unassailable. Resplendent in his audacity. Pearls encrust his coat and carry up into his hair, pinned and baubled and braided into a crown.

“Loving no king but the other?” Mr. Buttons asks.

“Aye,” Stede swears.

“Even if the price be thy death?”

“We pay it!” he and Ed declare.

With that, they remove the daggers pointed at each other’s hearts and slash them through a massive bag placed on the altar. Gold and silver coins spill out, bouncing down the steps of the altar and rolling out towards the crowd. At the same time, the silks drop, covering the stained glass lanterns and turning the light in the chapel from watery blue to white starlight. The effect is so stark that even the greediest, most grasping pirate goes stock-still rather than chase the coins.

“Then what these devils that hath joined together, let none but death put asunder,” Mr. Buttons proclaims, to a burst of music. “Garn! Give ‘im a smooch!”

“Might take a while,” Ed says. “Don’t anyone go poaching my dinner!”

Stede laughs and throws his arms around Ed’s neck, all the better to be swept off his feet.

f*cking finally, Ed kisses him. He pulls Stede tight against him and nearly bowls them both over with his eagerness. Won’t drop you. Won’t ever let you go. You’re mine, I’m yours, and everyone f*cking knows it.

Tears spring to Stede’s eyes, and a sob erupts from his chest. “I love you,” he pants out, trying to catch his breath between kisses. “I love you so, Edward-”

“I love you more,” Ed growls, cheek nuzzled to teary cheek.

“Oh, don’t you start!”

“Aww, our first fight!” laughs Ed. “Where’d the daggers go?”

White flower petals propelled by fanning palm fronds flood the air. They stick to their coats and hair and wet cheeks as Stede pounces and dips Ed in return. “En garde.”

I yield, I yield! Right away, Ed melts. Grinning lips go soft and pliant, ready to be plundered. Do what you will. Anything. Give you anything you ever desire, everythingeverythingeverythingpromiseStede!

Was Stede too hasty forgoing the step stool?! His whole body is positively afire, yearning to-

But wait a minute!

“Where are those fireworks?” Stede looks up from kissing Ed, his eyes darting wildly.

The bag full of coins has all but emptied now. Its weightlessness ought to have triggered the pulley.

“I got this,” says a calm, cool voice in the crowd. Jim has jumped to their feet. Next thing Stede knows, a silver streak of knife is whizzing past his head.

Ropes snap. Music swells. Dozens of charges of gunpowder drop down into funnels of fire, shooting off flames and sparks that leap some twenty feet into the air, all around the chapel's crumbling walls. All the while, the cheering crew are tossing bowl after bowl of confetti into the air. Fire and floating flowers, an explosion of passion and tenderness all at once!

It even manages to shock Ed. He clings to Stede and wonders up at the sky, filled with blazing constellations that Stede has commissioned just for him. Could die happy right now. Don’t want to, though. Won’t ever. Ed brings Stede’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. The fireworks roar so loud Stede can barely hear his own shouts, but always, always, he can hear his love’s voice. Gonna feel like this every day, with you.

The procession back to Jackie’s is absolute mayhem. The streets are made muddy with libations of booze that the pirates must have secreted on their persons during the ceremony. They shout and sing at the tops of their lungs.

“Hear ye! It’s Blackbeard’s wedding day!”

“Bonn-et! Bonn-et!” chant the crew.

Someone hollers, “Free drinks at Spanish Jackie’s!” and is instantly shouted down by the woman herself.

“The food’s free! Y’all are payin’ for the drinks!”

“There was once a pirate named Ed,” Frenchie strums on his lute. “Who could see your death, everyone said! ‘But true love’s what I need!’ he told a gent, Stede, and the next day he took him to wed!”

Any moment now, Stede is expecting one of the neighboring islands to come over and tell them to keep it down. He couldn’t care less if they do! Who cares if they burn the whole Republic down, drunkenly carousing with their torches! Not Stede! He has Ed at his side, now and ever more.

When they arrive to the banquet, it’s already swarming. It’s impossible not to brush with strangers, but for once the crowd is complimentary. They want to shake his hand and congratulate him.

That’s some great hair.

Wow! Blackbeard and Bonnet!

Damned handsome couple. Wouldn’t mind bein’ a fly on that wall…

Better soak this the f*ck up. Once in a lifetime experience!

It’s a gauntlet of cajolery just to make it to their grooms’ table!

Ed has found a stunning pair of thrones to put side by side, dressed them up in comfy furs, draped them with gold chains, and piled them with as many ruby red pillows as could be bought, stolen, and borrowed. Mostly stolen, knowing Ed- but nonetheless, an exquisite oasis in the melee. The crew have valiantly defended their table from occupation, Black Pete with Lucius in his lap, giving his most withering glare, and Fang with a blunderbuss. They get out of the way to let Stede and Ed take their seats, but hang back from the party long enough to present the first of what is sure to be a flood of tributes.

“Blackbeard, sir,” Black Pete clears his throat. “It’s gross to say, but. Ya know. Our ship is kinda like a family. And Stede’s uhhh. He’s sort of like our dad. Our really dorky dad. So. Uhhhh…”

Lucius pats his back as Black Pete struggles to choke out his sentiments. “You’re doing great, hon.”

“So it’s kinda like… youreourdadtoonow,” Black Pete winces. “If that’s not totally outta line!”

Ed just chuckles and pats Black Pete on the shoulder. “Thanks, kid.”

“I made you this!” Black Pete yelps, thrusting forward a hand carved pipe. “So you can do story time with us…”

Lucius lifts his eyes to the extravagantly decorated ceiling in innocence. “Aaaand we all chipped in to buy some very swanky hash, that I ended up lifting anyway…”

“You pocketed the money?" Ed turns and gives Stede a fond glance. "They really are my boys…”

Stede has to wipe his cheek dry, again. “Thank you. You don’t know what it means to me that you all get along so swimmingly!” he tells them, his voice going watery. “All my- snff- favorite people…”

“Captain, here. Let me,” says Fang, producing a lace edged, butter yellow hanky out of nowhere. He waits patiently for Stede to blow his nose before offering another gift. A black flask, with unmistakable, golden brushwork. “A little something from Adventure’s crew. A bottle of wine from Niphon, just before they shut their doors,” he explains.

Stede’s eyes go from hopelessly wet to bugging out of his head at such a rare find. “It must be, oh, some eighty years old!”

Ed rubs a thumb at Stede’s nape. Dunno if I’d still drink that, but- “Gorgeous bottle. That’d look great next to your little screen, with the bamboo?”

“Oh, you’re so right.” Stede smiles at everyone, gushing out appreciation from every pore. “You’ve all been so thoughtful. Thank you for making our big day so- so special,” he chokes out. "Snnff!"

Fang waggles a finger at the hanky as Stede blows his nose again. “You can keep that, too.”

Their dinner is just as delicious as the sample last night, and a much needed cushion for the deluge of toasts, once Stede sends out the champagne.

“To Blackbeard! To Bonnet!”

“Ta the bedposts that be rattled this night!”

“To the best damn steak this old seadog’s ever et!”

Chefs from dozens of ships flock to Roach, desperate to learn his secrets. Stede lends him his frock coat and has him hold down the table and receive gifts for a bit while he takes Ed to the dance floor. All the known couples of the Revenge have found their way into one another’s arms, there. And- what’s this? A new development! Oluwande and Jim, wrapped together in a slow dance. As they turn and turn, it’s plain to see each smiling in long sought, heartfelt contentment with the other. The piece of pastry Jim bites over Oluwande’s shoulder is just a bonus.

Stede’s so glad they went for the bagpipes. Firstly- there are few instruments that could pierce the roar of the crowd, but secondly- there’s nothing quite like their continuous slide from note to note to echo the unceasing surge of love in his heart. He and Ed link arms and reel around for what feels like hours, until they’ve sweat every drop of water they’ve drank that week. Stede’s certain he hasn’t stank so badly since the boys at school trapped him under a pig’s trough. Still, there is nothing so pleasant, so sweet as when Ed whips Stede up close and kisses him.

Too dizzy. Hold me fast.

Stede cradles Ed’s face in his hands to keep it from spinning. “Are you feeling your drink, my darling?”

“Pfft,” Ed rolls his eyes. “I’ve been tryin’, but I can barely get a sip down for all these bastards gabbing at us.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to be painfully, soberly aware of every moment of this wonderful night, then.”

“Mm, believe me, I’m feelin’ no pain.” Ed laughs and presses him with another kiss. So much for clearing my head. Drunk on you.

After another reel or two, they make it back to their table, where more of their guests are anxious to make their supplication known.

“Can’t believe you bagged a bloody Lord Whatsit,” says a man with gravy drippings all down his front.

“Ahh! If it was easy, everyone would do it!” says Ed, nodding politely.

"M'Lord!" Gravy Shirt shakes Stede’s hand next. “And you got yerself a Blackbeard, eh? Only the best for the guv!”

“Not a Lord, actually-”

“‘Bout time piracy ‘ad a royal couple!” Them bluebloods have it too good, too long.

“Next!” barks Mr. Buttons. “Move it along!”

Who is that beautiful man…

A pair of guests come forward then, arm in arm.

“Mad Jake was just saying at the chapel, ‘Is it just me, or was that like, really beautiful?’” says the first.

“Oh my God. So moving!” says Mad Jake, clapping a hand over his heart.

Stede notices Ed shudder as he pulls away from a hand shake with Mad Jake. “That looked troubling,” he whispers, as a company of Dutchmen speak insensibly to them.

Ed sticks out his tongue distastefully. “Skinned by a den of Scandinavian skunks.”

Stede frowns. “At least it will be an alliterative death.”

“How’re you holding up?” Ed asks. “Want me to get the machete out? No more hands to shake!”

“I’m all right, dear,” Stede assures him. “Though there's been more than one person concerned this is all a ploy, and you’re going to slit my throat and peel my face off, for some reason.”

“Only because it’s a very handsome face.”

“Ed,” Stede smiles.

“I’d have those dimples off you in a heartbeat.”

Ed ducks in close for what Stede assumes will be a kiss but is in fact a poke of tongue, right into his dimple. That thrill serves to power him through the next guest, who goes off on an exhaustive tangent about a whirlpool, a half wrecked ship, and how somehow this dilapidated vessel is a gift for them and not an imposition.

Reckon we can get some lumber off the ship, Ed supposes, with an impatient squeeze of Stede’s hand. Unfortunately, me bonking him over the head with it to shut him up is not how he goes. Gallows.

There have been lots of gallows and stabbings. Ed seeks the quick comfort of Stede’s touch if ever anything truly upsetting comes along, and Stede is very glad to provide. That is- until Snicks Lively.

“Name’s Snicks Lively!” the healthy looking man introduces himself. “Don’t want to take too much o’ your time- but I just wanted to say, absolutely crackerjack wedding! M’honored to be here!”

“Thank you,” Stede shakes his hand.

I’ll remember this ‘til the day I die, Snicks thinks, a bit forebodingly. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, mate,” smiles Ed. But the moment their fingers touch, his face drops.

Stede’s seen it enough times now, he can tell when Ed has been confronted with a vision of a particularly imminent demise. They come at him so much quicker and more clearly, it’s hard to keep a poker face. Stede signals to Mr. Buttons that they’ll be taking a break just as soon as Mr. Soon to Be Not So Lively lets him go.

"Come away for a moment, Ed."

Stede has to kick Lucius and Pete out, but he finds a nook beneath the stairs where Ed can get a bit of privacy. Despite his desire to show a more sensitive side of himself in public, Ed wouldn’t want to be seen like this. Poor thing can barely breathe! That’s all he can think, too.

Can’t breathe. Can’t. Can’t breathe.

“Is this too much for you darling?” Stede asks. He takes Ed’s hands in his and thumbs circles into his palms. He’s not even wearing his fingerless mitts to cut down on contact. No wonder he’s struggling. “We could get you a glove?”

Looking for you-

“I’m right here, Ed.”

Ed clears his throat, fighting to catch his breath. “Stede!”

Right away, Stede tucks Ed into his chest. He rubs up and down his back, until he can make something other than gasps come out. “I’m here. I’ve got you,” he tells him, over and over.

“Oh, man,” Ed coughs. Maybe we’re done for tonight? “No more guests?”

“That’s all right,” Stede tells him. “Of course.”

Bigger fish to fry.

Bigger than their wedding? That’s alarming. Stede does his best not to take offense, but maybe he’s about to go murder Snicks Lively in a minute!

“Would it help to tell me what you saw, do you think?”

I have to, Ed nods. He pulls himself out of his burrow in Stede’s neck and manages to put on a brave face, but he’s still ashen. “It was, uhm. Snicks was lashed on top of a cannon, on a main deck. There was an English officer. Snicks tells him how you’re in Nassau and this English dick cracks him in the head with one of our souvenir bottles, kicks him into the sea, and-”

“Oh, Ed!”

Drowning! No wonder he was so choked up.

“Someone’s hunting you,” Ed says, gravely.

And there’s that!

“I wouldn’t know where to start guessing who,” Stede frowns. “But surely, if he never found Mr. Lively- well! Couldn’t we prevent him from leaving with a souvenir?” he tries.

Ed shakes his head. “You can't change these things.”

“We could tie him up!”

“And then rats come and chew away the cords!” Ed counters. “Mate, I’ve tried to alter these things. Guns jam. Sails crash into the fray. Bloody birds pop out of nowhere and block daggers... It’s going to happen,” he insists.

“Right…” Stede wants so badly to fix this for Ed. Nothing should be allowed to dampen his wedding night like this. Best he can do in short order is try for a laugh. “Well. If we can’t kill him now, maybe we throw knives at him later for a party trick?” he suggests.

Ed smiles lopsidedly. It’s not much, but it's a start. “Knew I married you for a reason.”

“My darling.” Stede reaches out to brush Ed’s cheek and let him cuddle into his hand. “Who was it? Looking for me?”

“He didn't exactly read off his resume before shoving our lad here overboard,” Ed huffs. f*ck, I dunno…

“What did he look like?”

“He had a… face.” Mean one. Mean and English.

“Ed,” Stede says firmly. “He’s harming people to get to me. Try and remember. Any details at all.”

Ed nods. “We have a crew to think of.” M’fond of the buggers, but they’re sh*t tier at defense…

“Oh!” Just when Stede thought he couldn’t love him any more than he already did.

With a squeeze of Stede’s hand, Ed shuts his eyes, determining himself to the task. “I’ll try to remember everything,” he says.

“You can do it.” Stede kisses Ed’s forehead, whispering right to his brain. “You're with me. Be safe with me, and remember.”

It’s daylight. Florida coast, if I had to guess. Sweating buckets. Tied to a scorching hot canon. Ropes. Black boots stomping.

“You’re doing so well,” Stede encourages him.

You’ve crossed paths with Stede Bonnet? Answer me true and I may spare you, scum.

Oh dear.

Yeah, yeah, in Nassau.

Nassau?

Him and Blackbeard.

Ed hadn’t said he was mentioned, too!

Baby Bonnet?! Baby Bonnet cavorting with Blackbeard?! I said tell me true.

They had a beautiful wedding.

What a stupid lie to lose your life over.

Someone who knows to call Stede 'Baby Bonnet'... Is that Nigel? No, Nigel is dead.

Ed jerks and opens his eyes, unable or unwilling to go further, and really, Stede can’t blame him. He pets his cheek and kisses his head. “That’s all right, dear. That’s enough,” he tells him.

“He’s days away. We could be clear of here before morning,” Ed says, urgently. “We could totally escape!”

“And… run forever?”

The idea doesn’t sit right with Stede. He’s already run away from home and all the misery there. He’d been fleeing all his life, to keep away from the snobs and bullies who despised and terrorized him, chasing him with whips and cruel words. Now that he’s found people he loves, he wants to-

Oh!

“It wasn’t just Nigel,” Stede realizes.

Ed’s brow pinches. “Who?”

“Nigel Badminton! We were always at odds, even as boys. He and his twin threw rocks and called me Baby Bonnet, and then he boarded me and I slew him, just before you and I met and now- now his twin! His twin brother Chauncey is a naval officer, too!”

Son of a bitch. Ed’s eyes go wide. “When were you gonna tell me you had a lifelong nemesis hell bent on revenge? That’s so f*cking cool!”

“I got distracted!” Stede exclaims. “I met Blackbeard and we fell in love and to be quite honest? I don’t wish to think of anyone else, ever again.”

“S’fair,” Ed shrugs. I’m pretty f*cking amazing.

Stede heaves a sigh. “But darling, I don’t want to run,” he confesses. “I don’t want to always look over my shoulder for him. I want to enjoy my life with you.”

“You will,” Ed insists. The tide of who is comforting who turns then. He grasps at Stede’s hands and bundles them between their chests. “I mean. We know he can’t really hurt you. Geezer Stede, ‘member?”

With a pained smile, Stede squeezes him back. “But he could hurt you, Ed, and you are as vital a part of me as my own heart. We have to take control.”

"...Okay." Ed sparkles at him with teary eyes for a moment before he lunges in for a kiss. I won’t let anything happen to either of us, his kiss promises.

“I know, I know…”

“I’ll do whatever it takes! Catapult a stingray! Smelt a suit of armor out of snail forks! Kidnap his mother!”

Stede chuckles and kisses him one more time before stepping back. “We stand our ground then,” he nods. “Let Badminton come to us. We’ll stay a few more days here, and make a honeymoon of it!”

“Great!” says Ed, like they’ve just booked a spa day. “I’ll find out how he dies and- y’know! Help it along!”

The optimism is very much appreciated, but there may be a small hitch there. “Do we think he’ll let you close enough to do that?” Stede frowns. “He’s an admiral of the Royal Navy, and you’re Blackbeard.”

Ed scratches his cheek with a squint. “Not necessarily.”

“Hm?”

Some bolt of an idea must have struck. Ed jumps and nearly bangs his head on the underside of the stairs. “Warn the gang what’s coming,” he tells Stede with a hearty pat on the arm. “Crew meeting at noon, tomorrow. We’ll have to get everyone on the lookout, and make plans. I’ve got something I’ve got to do!”

“Now?!”

It’ll be all right, Ed kisses him on the cheek. "Just going upstairs." And with that, he swings around the scaffolding of the nook, around the corner, and races up the stairs.

Of course, it’s easier said than done for a groom at a wedding to move through a crowd and deliver a message to a dozen people. Herding them on the confines of a ship when they’re all moderately sober is challenging enough, but when they’re all hopped up on well wishes, bagpipes, and a change of scenery? He’d be better off with geese. The Swede insists on singing a tribute, Mr. Buttons is moved to make a sweep of increasingly bizarre toasts, Oluwande is huggy drunk, and three others are off in the alley, betting on a crab race. Never mind a horde of guest pirates who pull Stede off course, wondering if they could use any more hands on board the Revenge.

“Thank you! Very flattering. I’m afraid we’re not auditioning at the moment! No! Maybe next summer… Keep one eyepatch up in case there's a notice posted! Ahaha…”

The better part of an hour passes before Stede manages to extricate himself, but Ed has yet to reemerge. He wouldn’t have left the premises without telling Stede, so he must still be upstairs, devising a daring strategy for their upcoming encounter. His brilliant Ed is such a force of nature once he gets going, he can be forgiven for letting time get away from him. Especially if he sweeps Stede into his whirlwind.

The noise of the crowd tapers off as Stede climbs up to the inn. In its place, the smell of lavender comes floating along, putting him in mind of gardens, and beds of moss, and knees made green by the pitching of pastoral woo. Woo hoo!

Stede pushes the door open ever so slowly. If Ed is looking to tantalize him, job well done. The room itself is empty, and the only lamplight comes through the washroom curtain in an angelic ray of gold. Just out of sight, Ed hums to himself, accompanied by the steady rhythm of a brush running through his long hair.

“If ‘tis joy to wound a lover, how much more to give him ease? When his passion you discover- ahh, how pleasing ‘tis to please! Ahhh, how pleasing ‘tis to pleeease…”

All over again, Stede falls in love.

“Edward, my love?” he calls, to announce himself. “It sounds like you’re breathing easier now, thank goodness…”

Ed chuckles and lays down his brush with a clack. “A little pampering can do a man wonders,” he says. “You taught me that.”

Stede waits in the middle of the floor, not daring to rush whatever reveal his beloved has in store. He savors the sight of just a long, elegant hand pushing the curtain aside. Another, lifting the lamp. The flowery sleeve of Ed’s favorite robe. Acres of dewy skin on display, from Ed’s chiseled breastbone up to his-

“Your chin!”

Ed bites his bottom lip, now uncrowded by a beard, or mustache, or any whiskers at all. “Yeah! It's escaped!”

“I-” Stede starts and stops. He can only move again when Ed does, and even then he cannot blink. “This is the right room, isn’t it?”

Ed sets down the lamp and gives the sash of his robe a final tightening tug. “There’s been some debate about that,” he grins. Next thing Stede knows, he’s slipping up close and wrapping around Stede’s waist.

Stede huffs a laugh. This luminous being in his arms- this is someone bright and unburdened. Smothering a room with leather and black paint in his honor would be unthinkable. He’s an absolute darling- as darling as ever, and more. Stede can see every heretofore hidden quirk in his smile, and by God, it’s a radiant one, if a little different.

“Pardon me, while I get my land-legs,” Stede breathes. “But- why?”

“Badminton’ll never suspect it’s Blackbeard he’s talking to,” Ed reasons, simply.

“I’ll admit to being thrown off the scent,” says Stede. Then he lets it sink in. “You did this… You gave up your black beard- for me?”

“You know I’d chew off my own foot to protect you,” Ed grins. “This was waaay easier.”

“Still-"

“M’sure we could’ve thought up another way to get him,” Ed rolls his eyes. “…But I also just, wanted a change. I’ve already been changing," he says. "It’s just the beard catching up.”

“Right…” Finally Stede allows his hands, laid on Ed’s shoulders, to slide along to his neck.

Let’s not worry about that dick for brains tonight. Let’s not worry about anything, his gentle mind asks.

And how could Stede feel anything but easy, under these conditions? The beard alarmed him at first, but the warmth of Ed’s skin, the smell of him, his tendency to shiver and curl toward the left when tickled- they're all so safe and familiar. It’s just there’s more of it.

Ed co*cks an eyebrow. “So whaddaya think? Still dig me?” I know, I know. I’ll probably get lazy and grow it back before long.

Stede reaches Ed’s freshly shaved jaw with both hands and finds himself tilting his head in just the same kiss seeking way as ever. “I think you’re beautiful,” he says, easily. He closes the distance and meets lips that press and part for him just the same. True, there’s no beard to scrub lovingly at him, but there’s the kiss he daydreams of kissing, whenever he and Ed are apart. “Beautiful,” he murmurs again. Dot, dot, dot, he kisses at the corner of Ed’s mouth, where he never has before.

Your lips your lips your lips…

“Smooth… Mmm… So smooth.”

Ed sips a thrilled breath as Stede smears further exploratory kisses along his jaw. “You didn’t imagine it was quicksand underneath, did you?” he chuckles. f*ck, that feels f*cking good. “Ghh! I take it back. I forgot I had a neck!"

“I could never have imagined this,” Stede tells Ed. “I’m merely an appreciator of art, not its conceiver…”

The sigh Ed lets loose!

“Stede…”

“Oh, Edward-”

Love it when you love up on me, lover.

“-Loveliest thing there is.” Stede dances his fingertips wherever his nose and mouth can’t be. “We’ll have to call you Edward the Lovely from now on, if you can’t be called Blackbeard. Even if you grow it back. I really think it will catch on!”

Let history keep Edward the Martyr, Edward the Confessor, Edward the Black Bloody Prince. They can’t hold a candle! Edward the Lovely shall reign supreme.

Ed chuckles. “Bet we could sell the beard to Jackie for a f*cking bundle.”

“Oh, most definitely.” Stede pulls back to tell Ed the insanity he missed. “Do you know, just after you went upstairs she sold the pillow you sat on at dinner for three hundred?”

“Three hundred!” Ed’s jaw drops. “f*ck! That's it. She’s definitely cutting us in,” he grumbles. f*cking Jackie, jackpotting us…

It’s hard to be too annoyed, Stede finds. Not when he’s had such a happy time, these past few days. Stede smiles at Ed again and trails his fingers up and down the column of his neck. “You know what the business with Spanish Jackie has made me wonder?” he asks. “What if we had something else?” He stops his fingers on the hard bone of Ed’s sternum and tries to imagine any other power than his own. “What if when I touched you, suppose instead I... I made you forget who I was?”

Ed twitches his nose, nonchalant. “Then I’d get to meet the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen, thousands of times,” he says. At the tap of Stede’s fingers, he tucks his chin and whispers from behind one hand. “Hell-o, handsome,” he purrs. “M’husband just left the room, do you fancy a quick f*ck?”

“I suppose it would all come out in the wash,” Stede laughs.

Man, now I wanna do one. Ed narrows his eyes, thinking hard. Whenever I touch you… “Whenever I touch you you come, spontaneously!” he gleefully suggests.

“So no difference, at all,” Stede frowns.

Ed goes and pokes him, in the belly. “Woops.”

“Ah!” Stede pretends as though his knees have gone to jelly. He clings around Ed’s shoulders and moans in his ear. “Ed- Edward!”

That cackling devil prods him two more times.

“Oh! Ecstasy! Oh God! Yes!”

Despite his burdensome commitment to the bit, Ed kisses Stede’s cheek and keeps him from sliding right to the floor. “You’re a f*cking maniac.” My maniac.

Stede steadies himself and gives Ed a vengeful poke back. “What if my touch made you fall asleep?”

Joke’s on Stede. Now Ed slumps into his arms. He hangs like a sack full of potatoes, smacking his lips and forcing a yawn. “I’d dream of only you,” he mutters sleepily.

“Very sweet.”

“What if your touch turned me to smoke?”

Stede laughs and sighs as Ed gets his own two feet under him again. “My darling,” he says, holding Ed’s cheek. “When you ask me such a thing, I think only of how I’d love you. Of the pretty jar I’d find, to catch you in.”

You really do love me.

“Terribly.”

Ed goes a little glittery, in the eye. “Love you, you freaky little jar f*cker,” he sniffs.

How can Stede help but kiss him? Ed is all things at once. Unforgettable, rapturous, and dreamlike, and filling up his lungs with every wispy sigh. Just when Stede thinks he can take no more, when his chest is too expanded, his heart too full, Ed pulls loose the sash at his waist and lets his robe drop to the floor. Airy white silk is all that remains. Floor length, but still revealing in its sleeveless cut, and scooping neckline. It puffs charmingly, cinched by satin ribbons. Tattoos and chest hair and two dusky buds of arousal just visible through the sheer. Stede never cared a fig for decolletage before, but the way the fine cloth clings to him is mouthwatering.

“What if we’d both never touched at all?” Ed wonders, once more. “How would you love me, if I was your blushing bride?”

“Never been touched?”

“Never,” Ed purrs back. Let’s pretend...

They way they both tremble with excitement, Stede can almost believe it to be true.

“Don’t worry, my sweet little petal,” he says, affecting the stuffy manner of an honorable swain- the sort who never ever would dream of piracy as a career option. He brushes Ed’s hair back and lays patrician hands on his shoulders. “This is all above board, now we’re married. Let us make love!”

What a knob. Perfect, Ed grins. You’re always f*cking perfect. He quickly masters his expression to play the part of a dainty ingenue. “Oh but, sir! I’ve never made that before,” he says. “Is it much more difficult than stitching up a frock?”

“We’ll go slowly,” Stede assures.

“What a relief,” Ed sighs. “Mummy died before she could tell me what to expect on my wedding night...”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Stede tuts.

“Yes...” Ed looks up at him with big, dramatic eyes. “The day I came of age, she was eaten by a tiger. I would’ve asked the tiger, but he was eaten by a shark!”

Stede presses a chaste kiss of condolence to his head. “Fear not, my innocent lamb. Your husband is here now.”

“Yes,” Ed agrees sweetly. Yes yes yes. “My strapping, handsome husband!”

“Your affection swells my heart,” Stede pronounces. “And… other things.”

If this were a melodrama of the stage and not merely the boudoir, someone would strike a drum, just then.

Ed gasps and rakes heavy lidded eyes down Stede’s body. “Will you show me, sir? I’ve always wanted to see a naked man.”

“You’re in luck!” Stede raises a brash eyebrow. “I happen to be naked under my clothes.”

Some hours ago while they were milling around at the wedding, Ed stole Stede’s cravat to do a party trick- but aside from that, Stede has some serious undressing to do. He sits on the trunk at the foot of the bed to pry off his shoes and things while Ed stands by, twirling his hair around his finger. What a pair of giddyheaded lovers they are. They steal theatrical, deeply abashed glances at one another as though they haven’t before spent entire days naked together. Flower petals long since stuck between Stede’s waistcoat and his shirt fall onto the bedspread. He snatches a handful and blows them to Ed with a kiss. When at last Stede comes to removing his shirt, Ed is on tiptoes he's so eager to climb into his lap- but patience, patience!

“Would you like to do the honors, my scrumptious one?” Stede pinches his shirt in indication.

“Why yes, sir!” Ed comes forward as Stede raises his arms and hooks his fingers into the hem of his shirt. They drag all up his sides and along the sensitive under arm, setting Stede’s flesh atingle. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous.

Even without having touched himself, Stede’s already putting on a good show as his manhood is unveiled. In keeping with the shy maiden character, Ed preoccupies himself by folding Stede’s shirt. He has a neat little pile going, on the sideboard.

“What a fine housewife you’ll make,” Stede praises. “Shall we have a parlor redecorated so you can put your touch on it?”

With a final pat of the laundry, Ed turns back to Stede. Pretty as you like, he plucks his skirts and comes to kneel before him. “I’ll settle for a touch on you, sir.” Oops. Bit too saucy, Ed chides himself. Reel it in, mate!

Oh, this is all infinitely more forward than Stede’s lived experience. The first time he married, he kept to himself for a full six months and never did fully disrobe in front of Mary. He supposes somewhere out there, there must be loving couples that manage to save themselves for marriage, but seeing as they are just as scarce as unicorns, he feels justified in a little mythologizing.

Stede takes himself in hand and gives his co*ck a few warming pumps. He’s been anticipating this most special encounter for days, so it’s no surprise the way he jumps to life. Ed rubs his hands at Stede’s knees, leaning in for a good look.

“Do you see how you inspire me, my darling?”

Ed heaves a bothered breath that is only a quarter an exaggeration. f*cking glorious, he admires Stede’s co*ck. “My good sir, I must inspire you a lot. How does it work?”

“Hmm.” Stede contemplates his ruddy co*ck, wondering whether hydrostatic principals are suitable pillow talk. Probably best saved for another time! “Perhaps if you sat on my knee, you would be better able to see for yourself,” he suggests instead.

The fire that blazes in Ed’s eye as he rises could easily keep their lamp burning until sunrise. Wouldn’t that be something? To match the jar of smoke!

Ed slides into Stede’s lap in a whisper of silk. He garlands one arm around Stede’s shoulder, and ever so shyly hovers his other hand. I could have you off, right now. I could make you spill in a minute and then swing m’leg over and split myself open on your wet co*ck.

“Go ahead, it’s all right,” Stede says, breath hitched a bit.

But instead of touching his lonely co*ck, Ed lands his hand in the middle of Stede’s chest, where its own inky image lays. I could do, Ed smirks. But then again I’m a trollop. Your ‘little lamb’ will take some convincing before we bump our woolies. “You’re so comfortable, sir,” he demures, out loud.

What a fiend. Stede loves him to the ends of the earth, and right over the edge.

“You make a very charming scarf,” he compliments back.

“What happens next?”

Stede’s fingers twitch. He can’t hold off any longer, but he can go slowly. “Next, I kiss you, and I touch you,” he tells Ed. He starts at Ed’s silk draped knee, rubbing circles there, and then up his inner thigh. “And you kiss and touch me…”

f*ck, yes. Ed parts his knees for Stede to more easily slip between his legs. “And the kiss, sir?”

Stede angles his chin up, eyes fixed on Ed’s lips. They twist and play, fighting to keep up innocent appearances. Closer, closer, until they surrender.

Oh, how I want you, they think in duet.

As they kiss, Ed’s hand slides down Stede’s chest and belly, down to the root of him. Lightly, he scratches into Stede’s hair, drawing more blood, more excitement to Stede’s nethers than should physically be possible. f*ck, you’re hot. Could stoke a fire with your prick.

“Mhh!”

Two can play at that. Without further delay, Stede paws his way to the plumping package between Ed’s legs. He maps out the contours of his co*ck through the chemise, making Ed fidget and whimper into his mouth.

Rub it. Rub it all over me. Oh God. f*ck.

Stede gulps. “How’s that, my keen little kitten?”

You’re too good at this…

“Do you like it?”

There are ships at the bottom of the ocean less wrecked than their breathing.

“I like you, sir,” Ed confesses. “Now what?”

“Now you must start calling me Husband,” Stede chuckles.

“Yes, sir. I mean- husband,” Ed pretends to misspeak. Like it doesn’t make you harder every time, whatever I say…

“Shhh… I think you’ll be more comfortable if you’d sit back a bit. Yes. Up. Just like that.”

As Ed adjusts so that his bottom will better hang over Stede’s lap, Stede hoists his gown. When he sits again, Stede bespittles his finger and reaches past the frothy silk to the tender flesh beneath.

“Surprise,” Ed winks, as Stede encounters his already slicked hole. I did come upstairs to await ravishment, y’know…

Stede’s heart skips a beat, and instead his co*ck pulses. “Where are we?” he asks, helplessly.

Ed glows as devils do with their brimstone. “Between my legs, dear husband. Such a funny feeling…”

“Yes,” Stede nods. He dips a finger into Ed’s tight heat. “Yes… When you’re ready, my tempting treasure, I’ll enter you.”

“Nnh?” Ed grunts. “In a- in a contest?”

“Between your legs, as you said.”

“Ah! Hhh! Right,” Ed pants. It will be an uphill struggle for coherence, now. Oh f*ck. Oh f*ck. “And you- you put it in just the once?”

Stede pushes deep in example, and twists his finger. “A few times, hopefully,” he teases.

A hundred. A thousand. Ed squirms, in pleasure. Promise. Promise you’ll f*ck me all night.

“Shhh, shh, my pet. I promise to take care of you.”

“I dunno,” Ed huffs. “Sounds tedious…”

“It's more exciting than I'm making it sound,” Stede grins.

Both of Ed’s arms wrap around his neck, and he keens into Stede’s hair. “So you enter me a few times and then what?” he pants. “What's the point?”

“Then when we have filled each other with excitement, it spills out, you see.” Stede kisses aimlessly, sniping at any part of Ed he can get. An arm. An inch of chin. His nose. “It feels very good.”

Ed writhes in his lap, full of two fingers and breathing hard about it. “And that’s why people get married?” he asks. f*ck. f*ck. “To feel good?”

Stede laughs. “Well, no… People, broadly speaking, go around feeling good regardless of their marital state.”

The nerve of some f*ckin' people. “Why have you married me, husband?”

“Because I love you, most madly,” Stede gushes. He kisses Ed’s neck again, which he’s pleased to find has taken a salty sheen. “From the first moment I saw you…”

Wait, how did we met?

Stede goes still for a moment, caught out. “Remember, my love? I was taken with a fever while traveling, and you were my nurse.”

Aww, that’s a classic... Ed grins against Stede’s cheek. “When your fever broke, you proposed I marry you right away. Stole me from the nunnery, lickety split.”

“You were a nun?“

“Nah, I was the peasant who sold them herbs for their potions. Left them knucklebusters high and dry.”

“Ah, the lavender... yes.” Stede breathes deeply of the aroma that clings to Ed’s neck. “You smelled so sweet in my arms, when I put you on my horse...”

“You were so strong, holding me.”

“So beautiful…” Stede sucks an overzealous kiss, carried away by their fictitious elopement. “Ooo. Sorry ‘bout the love bite!”

“No, no, it’s fine. Kiss me- lower,” Ed asks.

Stede withdraws from his hole and re-encircles Ed in his arms. He kisses down his newly shaved neck, to the peaks of his bones and his highest placed tattoos. He goes star hopping, spark to inky spark, making Ed squeak with every one.

"Oo! Husband..." More, more, more. Want to feel you all over. Feel you all night. Tease me and pinch me and make me feel it…

With his teeth, Stede pulls at the bow cinching the neckline of Ed’s chemise, making one strap slide off his shoulder entirely and baring half his breast. Stede licks out hungrily, daubing Ed’s pert nipple with his tongue. He grazes his teeth at it, and then soothes it with warm kissing, over and over.

Oh fuuuuck. Stings. Stings good. God, I can’t help myself. Ed whines and slips a hand to his needy groin. “Husband,” he whimpers, bucking into his own hand. “It makes me ache when you do that. Am I sick?”

“Sickeningly beautiful,” Stede mumbles to his breast. He pinches the nipple that's not in his mouth and rolls it between his fingers, without mercy.

“Uhn!” Ed cries out.

“Too hard?”

“No, no, I just…” I’m gonna come, mate. If you keep- f*ckf*ckf*ck- if you do anything to me, anyf*ckingthing else! I’ll come, the moment you touch me… “I feel like I’m going mad...”

“Don’t be frightened, dear, it’s wonderful.”

“Wonderful.” Ed moans at the sucking of another bruising kiss. “Ah! You love me wonderf’ly…”

“I love you so,” Stede professes. Slowly, so slowly, he moves his hand toward Ed’s predicament. “I'll always be a good husband to you, my sweet lamb, my lovely flower, my little muffin... Give you everything you need.”

“Please! Please touch me." Touch me. I need it, I need it, touch-

“Are you ready, my love?”

Ed nods frantically. He pulls up his gown a bit, so that there’s more silk to clench around his member. Stede can still feel the heat of it, though, and after no more than four or five strokes, the wet flood of his joy.

“Uhn! Uh! f*ck, Stede!” Ed sobs and shudders. With no beard to get lost in, his ecstatic tears fall hot on Stede’s chest.

Be it the ritual allure of the night, the play acting, or the clean cut of Ed’s cheek, it is like they’ve discovered each other, all over. Though they’ve made love enough times for Stede to lose count, he feels just as tremulous as the first time.

“Oh, Ed.” Stede holds him close and kisses his eyelids. “It’s just us, now. I have you.”

“Mmm! Stede,” Ed sniffles. Love. As he returns to himself, his limbs go increasingly boneless. He musses clumsy fingers through Stede’s hair and kisses him open mouthed and indulgent, without care for form. You’ve wrecked me, ruined me, f*cked me to pieces, and you haven’t even had your dick in me, yet.

Stede shushes Ed, rubbing up and down the weary length of him. He kisses his face, and rocks him in a soothing tempo. “You’re not ruined,” he assures Ed. “Never ruined… If you feel as I do, you are renewed.”

Ed laughs and kisses him back. Yes. Yes. Like a shipwright for my soul. “You strip all the rot away, make me new...”

“That’s more like it.”

After another kiss and a luxurious, contented sigh, Ed scratches a scheming finger in the middle of Stede’s chest. “Pick me up and lay me in bed?” he asks, too sweetly. “And grab that really fancy oil. And a drink?”

“On second thought, maybe I have spoiled you rotten.”

Stede does all that Ed asks, of course. He lays him in the soft sheets they had the crew fetch from the ship after their first night on Jackie’s unsatisfactory linens. He fetches them each a sip of water and champagne. He even rubs the cramp out of Ed’s bad knee with their oil before he slicks himself.

“Don’t apologize to me, mate. You paid for it,” Ed giggles, as Stede agonizes about staining the chemise.

“Technically, until I return Chattering home with a generous stipend for his troubles, I stole it,” says Stede.

“Then what the f*ck do you care if it’s unsightly?” As Ed tsks at him, he gathers up the fabric, inch by inch.

Stede kneels between his open legs as they are unveiled, rapidly losing grip on his objection. “Uhm. Because it’s yours?” he blinks.

“I’m yours,” Ed reminds him. With that, he hooks his ankles around Stede’s flanks. “Come take me, already.”

After a few minutes of being disentangled, the night had seemed its darkest yet. Now, as they slide back into one another’s arms and kiss and push together, they could mistake it for a lazy afternoon. Ed’s very presence, even when it’s only as articulate as feelssogood, deeper, yes, is a bath of golden clarity. Stede could swear he sees better in the dark whenever he touches Ed- and when he’s inside him, he feels like he can see the future, too.

They’ll have more adventures, and allies and foes, and inscrutable acquaintances. They’ll build boats and houses, and fill them with the gifts they’ve plundered for one another, and warm nooks for lovemaking in, and despising cold, rainy days. They’ll have books written about them, and songs, and maybe even children to tell their tale, long after they are gone. They’ll each make their mark on one another, and together make their mark upon the world. In that way- they’ll be in love ‘til the end of time.

They go slow for a long while, just kissing and humming such sentiments and breathing easy. Stede does no more than gently stir his hips until Ed hardens again. He holds their hands together above their heads, gazes into his husband’s eyes and makes diabolically unhurried love- to Ed’s protests.

“Come on, lover,” he says, shivering with need. “Been inside me half a f*ck- ah!- f*ckin’ hour…” 'Bout to grab one of the co*cks off the wall and see to myself...

“You asked for me to take all night, repeatedly,” Stede reminds him.

“I was being hyper-buhhh...” Hyper-something. “What’s the word?”

“Hyperbolic, dear.”

“Oh look at me, I’m Stede,” Ed teases. “I’ve got a gorgeous husband I won’t bugger properly, and big f*ck off words and an even bigger ddohhf*ck!”

Stede snaps his hips, hard, and good God does it feel sublime. “One day… I’ll be so used to your tricks, you won’t be able to goad me,” he promises. “When that day comes… I suppose we’ll still havenights.”

“Ah! f*cking dick…” Ed puffs and squeezes his thighs around Stede, desperate for more. Do that again, come on, I wanna come-

Stede thrusts deeply again, teeth clenched. “Are you going to come when I say? Come with me?”

“Hhnff!” Ed clambers around Stede’s back to hold on as he f*cks into him again and again, quickening the pace. “Yes! Yes! Whatever you say, mate. Ah! I’ll do whatever the f*ck you say, forever. Just f*ck me hard,” he begs. “Rattle m’hips out the sockets. What’re bones good for anyway?!”

“Decoration?”

“Exactly!” says Ed. Nonessential.

“Here,” Stede pushes again, right to the heart of him.

“Bah! Ah! Ah! Yeah!…”

“Hhhh, Ed…”

Stede's desire is a coil of rope unspooling on its own, now that he’s thrown the anchor overboard. He presses chest to panting chest and ruts into Ed with wild abandon. Each man’s mouth is alternately full of tongue, and chants that match the steady beat of their bodies clapping together. Stede, Ed, lover, darling, Stede, Ed-

Whole body feels like a f*cking heart beat, ‘bout to burst-

“Yes! That’s it, that’s it,” Stede urges. He mashes their lips together and reaches his shaking hands down, groping at everything he can in a frenzy. He rolls Ed’s nipples under his thumbs, clenches his silk clad hips, and finally finds his weeping co*ck, bobbing between their bellies. “Go on, husband,” he says. “Show me. Show me. How happy we are, how happy we’ll be…”

“Nhh! So f*ckin’ happy! Nuh! Ha!” With that, Ed heaves in Stede’s arms, seized by pleasure. This is for you! You you you…

Beautiful Ed, Ed, Ed beneath him, in all his bliss. What could be gladder? Only Ed clutching him back, begging for him.

Now gimme yours…

Stede sees white as he climaxes. A wash of unearthly light, and brilliant elation. Then Ed’s white teeth as his mouth hangs open and panting. The white chemise, rumpled up all around them. The overcast morning, peeking through a gap in the curtains. Sometimes even a damned man can see Heaven, as it turns out.

The plan is pretty f*cking elegant, if Ed does say so himself. Turns out that the eyesore of a tribute came in handy, after all! They dress up the half-wrecked Vengeancein the Revenge’s style of rigging, set a bunch of explosives, and then wait for word of Badminton’s approach. If Stede’s flags don’t get his attention, running up the distress flag will oblige the Navy to take a closer look. Really, the only hitch is that Ed has to spend a night camped aboard the decoy without Stede. He has to use an actual pillow to lay his head for the first time in weeks, and quite frankly he doesn’t care for it! Might be for the best, though. His character is supposed to be pretty miffed.

When the English are an hour out, Ed sets the last of the wicks burning, fires up the smoke machine, and climbs down to the water. There are hundred pieces of ‘wreckage’ preset in the sea, some for fire, some for flavor. Lots of scrap lumber and empty crates and sh*t, of course, but also a slew of books Stede has already read, looted paintings he never found a good spot to hang, and tacky, rejected wedding presents. It makes for eclectic company while Ed waits on his raft for rescue. Finally, a proud, pompous twat of a ship appears in the night, flying the blue and red cross.

“Help! Help!” Ed calls across the water. “God have mercy!”

Just as was hoped, the vessel cruises to a halt, a safe distance from the Vengeance’s fiery show. The English put two tenders into the water to investigate.

‘Bout f*cking time. Ed’s f*cking freezing! All he wants in the world is to slip into a warm bath with Stede. And to kill off Badminton. Hey! Maybe he could drown him in the bath!

“Here! Over here!” Ed waves his arms, splashes and shouts, so they don’t miss him. “Oh, thank God! You’re angels! You’re heroes! You’re saints!” Ed could barf, laying it on thick like this, but needs must. The English aren’t usually in the business of saving pirate lives, but they do love things that appeal to their overinflated sense of ego.

“Who goes there!?” calls a haughty voice. One of the tenders has drawn close enough to him now, with the other close behind. “Identify yourself!”

Ed scrambles to get as much on top of his piece of wreckage as he can. “M’name is Jeff,” he claims, holding out a hand. “Thank you, oh, thank you!”

The officer is loath to get himself wet, but he takes Ed’s hand for shaking. “Yes…”

It hits Ed like running into a clothesline, even though he’s ready for it. Stabbed in the neck. The Swede’s jagged grin. Bleeding out into the pink sands of the beach. Tough luck! But that means Ed’s on the right track. He’ll get this party ashore and get ‘em ambushed, all right. Show time!

“He went poxmad, Bonnet did! He’s absolutely raving!” Ed bugs his eyes and clings to the edge of the English boat, giving it a shake.

“Now, see here!” the officer objects to the rocking. “Unhand this-”

“Bonnet?” calls someone in the second tender. “Stede Bonnet?”

Now there’s a familiar face. Mean and English. Punchably plain. Too far away to do anything about it yet, though.

“Off his nut, he is!” Ed blabs to the English crew. “He took all his riches, all his plunder and buried it. Then the minute we got off the isle, he started executin’ everyone who knew where!”

“Barbaric,” hisses the officer closest to Ed.

“I was the only one left alive when he torched the ship! He ran me through, but he missed all the important bits…”

The second tender pulls up beside Ed for a closer look. “Where is he now?” demands Badminton.

Ed raises a soaking sleeve out of the water and points to the flaming trail of debris, leading ashore. “Gone back to his hideout with the treasure!”

Careful, now. Can’t be too obvious. Let him think it’s his idea…

“Put him in the boat,” Badminton signals to the other tender. “We’re going ashore. He's taking us to Bonnet.”

“What? No!” Ed shrieks. “He’s mad, I tell you! He’ll kill me! He’ll finish the job!”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Badminton sighs.

“D’rather wait for the sharks!”

Two burly men reach into the water then, and haul Ed out. Death by poisoning, one of them, and some bowel complaint for the other. Years off, and therefore not so jarring as they could be. They don’t offer Ed any aid as they row to shore, though, so they can eat sh*t.

Ed plays up his supposed wound, limping and moaning up the beach, so the Revenge crew knows he’s coming. They pick off the English landing party as they cross into the treeline, killing a few, maiming more, and tying up the prisoners to the palms.

“My darling, you’re sopping wet!” Stede fusses, as soon as they’re reunited. He leads Ed away to a command tent, where there’s a homey little apartment with a dining table, wing chairs, a cot, and most importantly- a change of clothes.

Missed you, Ed thinks, as Stede helps him pull on a fresh, ruffly shirt.

“I missed you too, Ed,” Stede coos. “I barely slept a wink, without your lovey dovey rambling to fall asleep to.”

“I meant the nice clothes,” Ed scrunches his nose. No I don’t.

“Well! If you’d rather not be naked, you might show your loving husband a bit of appreciation!”

“Always.” Ed catches a playfully indignant Stede around the middle and kisses him soundly. Though the naked sounds great, too…

“Mmm!”

"Don’t ever wanna sail without you for a night again, even if it’s for a f*ckery."

“Oh, Edward,” Stede sighs. He holds Ed's face in his hands and rubs their noses together. “I can’t think of a single thing I would want to do without you at my side.”

“Arrange surprise presents for me?”

“All right, one single thing,” Stede chuckles.

“Got a little something for you, by the way,” Ed thumbs over his shoulder. “‘Bout six foot. Reeks of arrogance.”

“Yes!” Stede lets him go, so he can finish dressing. He sits in one of the wing chairs expectantly, ready to brainstorm. “Were you able to get a read off of him?”

“Flicked him right between the eyes,” Ed grins. He stuffs his shirt into his waistband, triumphantly.

“Does he die soon?” Stede asks.

“Tonight.”

Stede breathes a sigh of relief. “How?”

“Drunk as sh*t,” says Ed. “He’s all sweaty and disheveled, charging through the jungle… So I took his coat off him and threw it on the gang’s bonfire!”

But Stede’s brow furrows. “Drunk?”

“Yeah, mate. Not sure how we’re gonna swing that,” Ed admits.

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste any of that good whisky on him…”

Ed flops over to wrap his hair in a towel. Maybe the rush of blood to his head will help. “Oh! And there’s one other thing,” he remembers. “We gotta give him his gun back.”

“What?!” Ed can’t really see it in all its instantaneous glory while he’s wringing out, but Stede rockets to his feet in a panic. “We can’t give him a gun, Ed! He could shoot one of us! He could wound someone horribly! He could kill you! We don’t know-”

Ed stands back up, hands in the air. “You don’t have to tell me how dangerous it could be,” he shrugs. “He’s the idiot who shoots himself, trippin’ over his own jackbooted feet…”

“Can’t we just-” Stede trails off in a defeated huff. He doesn’t like it, but he knows everything has to be the same, they’ve played out this conversation before.

“We can give it to him unloaded, at least,” Ed offers. “Chase him into the night…”

Stede paces back and forth across the tent, then stops. “I hate how risky this is. I want it on the record!”

“Yep, I’ll get Lucius in here in a sec.”

“But I do have an idea…”

As soon as they’re explained and agreed, they march back out to the beach, where Badminton and his remaining crew have been trussed up.

“Chauncey,” Stede says brightly, pulling his jacket straight. “So good of you to call on us, to congratulate our nuptials.”

Badminton’s ugly mug contorts in somersault of confusion, realization, and ultimate disgust. “Stede Bonnet," he hisses. "Is there nothing you won’t stoop to?”

Ed co*cks his gun right in that pig’s face, as Stede hangs lovingly on his other arm. “All right, ya f*ckstick,” he growls. “On your feet.”

Badminton glares up at him, as insolent as a wet cat. “I take it you’re no midshipman named Jeff…”

Jeff had been a patch covered stringy nobody, left to die all alone. This is someone. Ed’s not entirely sure who just yet, but he knows he still cuts a formidable figure, dripping with silks and daggers.

“I’m Captain Edward Teach of the Adventure,” he ranks himself, accurately. “The destroyer of the Lost Armada, the Scourge of the Atlantic, and Seer of Death… And that’s my husband you’ve sneered at.”

Badminton blinks rapidly. “Of course. Murderers flocking together... No one else will have you.”

“Ah yes,” Stede sighs. “The ‘M’ word…”

“Mm,” Ed hums. “Thought he’d say that.”

Stede shakes his head at Badminton. “I won’t waste my breath trying to convince you otherwise, but I’ll have you know- you’re certainly no better.”

That finally gets the bastard up. Badminton struggles against his binds to get to his feet, snarling. “You murdered Nigel!”

“Ooph, he said it again!” Ed teases. “Is that all he’s got on you?”

“Must be!” Stede tuts. “And he used to be so good at humiliation…”

“Past his prime, I reckon.”

“Ah, yes, the march of time is cruel to us all,” Stede says wistfully.

To top off their rapidfire exchange, Ed turns to knock Stede a kiss on the cheek. “Not you, lover. You only get more gorgeous...”

Badminton gags. “Oh God. Go ahead and kill me, already, would you?!”

“We won’t,” Stede smiles, devilishly. “We’re going to let you go. In fact, we’re even going to let you have your gun back!”

“We’re in a good mood, with the wedding and all,” Ed agrees.

“Shame you missed the festivities,” Stede tuts. “But we could still scrounge up a little shindig, the three of us!”

“What?”

The boys should have set up the table, by now. Ed gestures with the end of his gun for Badminton to shake a leg. “Don’t be ungracious, man!”

Together they walk some distance into the jungle, where the foliage is as dense as Ed’s deadly vision. Fang and Roach have set up a spread, complete with a floral arrangement, cakes, and a full bottle of rum. A bewildered Badminton sits across from them, his bound hands far too grubby to be touching Stede’s fine tablecloth.

“I think we should have a game,” says Stede, pouring a pair of shot glasses. “I’m sure you’ll remember this one from our school days, Chauncey… Never Have I Ever!”

Badminton sniffs, suspicious of the offering before him. “As though you haven’t sinned in a myriad more ways…”

Stede sets aside the bottle of rum and leans across the table, hands folded under his chin. “You honestly believe that, don’t you?”

“You’re m-”

“Don’t say murderers again,” Ed moans. “Killers? Slayers? Exterminators? Switch it up, mate!

“Yes,” says Stede, voice needley. “What is your favorite word to make peace with all the lives you’ve ended?”

As Englishly as anyone ever has, Badminton stiffens. “I act as an emissary of His Majesty,” he seethes.

“Lads! Let’s save it for the game,” Ed reminds them.

Stede sits back, lowering his hackles once more. “Too right, my darling,” he pats Ed’s hand. “Thank you.”

Ed brings Stede’s knuckles to his lips for a kiss. You’re so stunningly bitchy. Soon as he’s dead m’gonna have your dick out…

Stede chuckles at his nibbling. “As a gesture of goodwill, you can even go first, Chauncey. Take your best shot!” he invites.

Badminton’s lip curls practically to his ear, the more Ed keeps fawning over Stede, so it’s no surprise he reaches for the lowest hanging fruit. “Never have I ever bent over for man,” he says, distastefully.

Ed snorts and raises one of the glasses, proudly. “Cheers!”

The other glass goes untouched, but not unremarked upon. “You have to drink, Baby Bonnet,” says Badminton. “Or should I say, Bu-”

Stede frowns and turns to Ed. “I’ve never ‘bent over’ for you- have I, darling?”

Ed squints. “Nnn… Nope! No, come to think of it...” Certainly’ve jerked you off from behind, but that doesn’t count.

With a shrug, Stede turns back to Badminton. “I prefer to be f*cked face to face, as it turns out,” he says. “Ed is a wonderful kisser. My turn!”

“Good God…”

“Never have I ever… switched places with my twin to fraudulently pass an exam,” Stede says, as lightly as though identifying a mysterious smell on the wind.

Ed shakes his head. “Despicable.”

Badminton makes no move to drink, so Stede pushes the shot towards him. “The least you can do to honor poor Nigel is admit he was the smarter brother,” he smiles.

Until he liquors up enough to be honest, cornering him will be the real object of the game.

“To my dear brother,” Badminton drinks, gravely.

“Your turn, Edward!” Stede refills the glasses with an excited wiggle. “Isn’t this fun?!”

“Hmm.” Ed goes out of his way not to blink at Badminton. “Never have I ever killed on someone else's orders,” he says. “Someone who doesn’t have the balls to get down off his throne and do his own dirty work.”

This Badminton cannot deny, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try and wheedle out of it. “That’s not true. Edward Teach was a Navy man once,” he says. The claim has the detached feeling of a quotation. “A privateer for the Crown, before he betrayed it.”

Ed blows an unimpressed whistle through his teeth. Yet another f*cking chump. “That’s a myth your lot came up with ‘cause you couldn't suss out how else a brown man could whoop your arses,” he says, evenly. “Drink.”

Well, of course after that, Badminton is feeling petty. “I’ve never committed an act of piracy.”

Yawn.

Stede is genuinely happy to get in a shot, though. “Thank you! I was getting thirsty,” he smiles. His smile turns darker and twistier as he realizes his next move. “Never have I ever bought a judge,” he says, with exquisite malice.

f*cking sh*tballs, you're hot.

“What?” Badminton scoffs.

“The Spoonhauer dispute? People talk,” Stede sighs.

Badminton drinks.

Well, if the bar's that f*cking low.

“Never have I ever bought a woman's company,” Ed says.

Badminton reaches for the next drink automatically, only hesitating when he realizes Stede isn’t.

“What? There are some things you can't do with a wife.”

Ed and Stede snort at the same time. “Oh, believe us, we know,” Ed smirks.

“No arguments there!” Stede snickers.

Badminton fumes. His drinks are starting to soak in, and he has to be prompted it’s his turn again.

“I’ve never owned a ship,” he says, which Ed could quibble, but he’s actually kind of sorry he’s only had two shots to Badmintons four. Down the hatch!

Stede takes his time, pouring out more shots and thinking up his next move. He’s probably spoiled for choice, if they were old schoolmates. Like getting dressed, it’s just a matter of picking something stylish. “Never have I ever… financed a gambling parlor," he says, finally.

Ah, f*ck.

Ed tries to reach for a drink while Stede isn’t looking at him. He does not succeed.

“No! Ed!”

“A man has to have hobbies, Stede!” Ed rolls his eyes. “Never have I owned land. Taking up space, just to have it.”

Badminton hiccups and raises a sweaty, accusing finger. “He’s just as much a landowner as- hic! I am!”

Stede raises a drink, honorably. “Not anymore, but then, that’s where the ‘never ever’ comes in…”

Ed pours the next round as an olive branch to Stede. Getting pretty low, now. He nearly drops the f*cking bottle when he hears the crock that comes out of Badminton’s mouth next, though.

“Never have I ever… uh. Buried treasure!”

“Ppfbbtt! Mate! You bought that one, too?!” Ed guffaws. “They’ll make f*cking anybody an admiral these days!”

“That’s…?”

“That’s not even a thing!” Ed slaps his knee, laughing.

“…It’s not?” Stede frowns.

“Oh, mate, c’mon.”

Stede's head boggles. “Really?”

Ed pats Stede’s hand. “No one actually buries treasure, Stede.”

“Oh no…”

“Why would you? I can’t think of a problem it could possibly solve without causing more problems!?”

“You were about to get caught and executed and you wanted some enterprising soul to avenge your prematurely squashed spirit of adventure by recovering your riches?”

“Yeah, uh, ‘I’m about to die, but rather than focus on having as much insane Nothing Left To Lose Sex as I can between now and then, I’m gonna draw a map and f*cking hike.’…”

Stede sighs at another shattered illusion, but at least he didn’t have to drink. “Who’s turn is it? Oh. Mine.”

Ed gives his back a rub. “Sorry…”

There’s only one shot of rum left, now. Stede slides it into the exact middle of the table. “Well. Never have I ever fallen for the fake traitor gambit,” he says, in prim indignation. He tilts his head at Badminton. “Embarrassing.”

With this last swig, Badminton has easily drunk half the bottle. He sweats and sways, and is slow to demand what he was promised. If they had another bottle they could probably convince him to keep going until he passes out in a puddle of his own sick, but honestly? Ed would rather cut out now and take Stede to bed to make up for missing last night.

“Welp!” Ed stretches out his arms, summoning a yawn. “That’s it, lads.” He stands up from the table and untucks Badminton’s gun from the sash at the small of his back. “Deal’s a deal.”

It clonks onto the table top and sits there for a full beat before Badminton recalls that he ought to grab it. A beat too long.

Stede has already drawn his own weapon on him, closely followed by Ed.

“Go on, Chauncey,” Stede says. “Run.”

Like a colt on new legs, Badminton stumbles up and away from the table.

Every stick and stone in the jungle seems to be conspiring against him. He’s humiliated and sloshed and confused, and just an all around sh*tstain of a man, and Mother Nature f*ckin’ knows it. Ed and Stede, meanwhile, are in their element. They're a perfect team, taunting in tandem. They chase Badminton out into the dark, armed with certainty of the outcome, and only pleasantly drunk. As Badminton zigs and zags, they each fire off a round, laughing their heads off.

Then there’s a third shot.

Ed takes it upon himself to confirm that the Badminton bow is tied up, once and for all. He rolls the wretch over with the toe of his boot, sees the crater where once was an eye, and calls back to Stede. “It’s like I said, mate. They’ll make just anybody an admiral these days…”

“We’re one up on the kings yet again, my love.” Stede offers Ed his arm for the walk back, looking radiantly noble. “Be my right hand man, and I’ll be yours?”

Ed grins. “You know it.”

They fall into step, back the way they came.

"It's lovely out, tonight."

"Nice breeze."

“Shall we take the scenic route?”

“Got turned around too much. Not sure we have another choice…”

Stede pats Ed’s hand, wrapped around his elbow. “Not to worry, my lovely one!” he says boldy. “Your husband has as keen a sense of direction as an apple, falling to the grwuahhh!”

Stede’s weight jerks forward, dragging Ed with it. They trip and tumble and the moonlight above all but extinguishes and-

“Awwwmotherf*ck!”

-they land with Stede’s elbow in Ed’s gut.

“Who!? Who put this here?” Stede yelps. “Someone could’ve been hurt!”

“Ooph.” Ed slides Stede off of him and dazedly stares up at the night sky while he catches his breath. It’s small, all framed in by the shovel hewn walls of good ol’ fashion pitfall. “Think this is that hole Spanish Jackie was supposed to find you in,” he wheezes.

Stede sits upright, on alert. “Oh no!”

Ed hooks his fingers into Stede’s.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “S’not so deep we can’t one of us stand on the other’s shoulders.” And I’ve got a great idea how we can decide who’s on top…

A wicked little smile curls the corner of Stede’s lips. He turns and lounges himself on the ground again, beside Ed. He slips an arm across him and nuzzles into his neck. “I’m listening...”

You always do. Ed turns his head to meet Stede’s mouth half way. You’re a f*ckin’ gem.

They kiss slow and deep. Deep as a hole, or even a whole world made better and brighter by Stede being in it.

But what’s the rush to get back to it?

It’s not so dark and terrible down here, really.

-