Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Drunk men were shouting.

And didn’t that sentence just sum up 90% of the first twelve years of Edward Teach’s life.

Ed had thought his dad was bad. And he was. The fuckin’ worst. But at least there’d only been one of him, not a whole thrice-damned ship full!

“Alright, you dogs, enough!” Captain Benjamin Hornigold barked over the maliciously gleeful voices of his crew. “Can’t damage the merchandise, or the old bastard won’t pay. Where’s the boy?”


Ed scrabbled to his feet in his latest hidey-hole. He rushed over to Hornigold, who wasn’t known for his patience.

“Captain?”

Now that he was out in the open, Ed could see what they’d all been jeering over. It was a boy. He was wearing the finest, frilliest outfit Ed had ever seen. Even his black shoes gleamed! Hornigold was holding the fancy child by a ruffly cravat at his throat. Ed had been so distracted by the sunny-day-sky blue of his coat, the lace at his cuffs (real lace!), that he hadn’t noticed the other boy’s face until now, when his gaze flicked up and their eyes met. His face was red, he was clearly struggling to breathe, and he looked utterly terrified.

Something in Ed’s gut twisted when his eyes met those stricken gray-blue ones. Then Hornigold struck out with his free hand and caught Ed across the face in greeting. It wasn’t hard, not comparatively, but Ed heard the other boy gasp.

“Lads found this little gentleman near the docks. Picking flowers,” he snorted this last bit in derision. Ed saw a string of mucus catch in his unkempt mustache. “Only son of that rich twat, Bonnet. Keep ‘im alive till we hear back ‘bout the ransom, or you’ll wish your mother never shat you into this world, boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Ed said.

Satisfied, Hornigold flung the terrified child at Ed, whose arms shot out automatically and caught him. It felt like a sin when his filthy, callused hands came in contact with the soft blue jacket.

'Just not those kind of people,' he heard his mother say in the back of his mind.

“Come on,” Ed breathed. He could feel the kid trembling. That kind of palpable fear would be like a cart of raw meat before rabid dogs. Ed needed to get him out of sight until the crew was thoroughly distracted by drink or disaster. Fortunately, Ed ensured he knew the best places to hide in every corner of the ship. He decided since there were two of them now they’d better make for the slightly more spacious nook behind the food stores.

“Duck in there. It’s okay,” Ed instructed, gently pushing on the other’s shoulder, folding him under a shelf and behind some barrels. He snatched an orange from a barrel before joining him.

In that split second the hostage had curled up on himself, golden head tucked into his arms, legs drawn up to his chest.

“Hey.” Ed put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He flinched, so Ed drew back as far as he could in the limited space. “Sorry,” Ed said automatically. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

The only answer was a sniffle. Oh shit. This kid was crying. Ed didn’t know what to do when people cried. At a loss, he started peeling the orange. Hornigold would flog him to within an inch of his life if he knew he’d taken it, but the barrel had just been refilled, so maybe he wouldn’t notice.

“Here,” Ed held out half the peeled orange.

The boy peered up. Yep. There were those eyes again, gentle and blue. For the first time Ed thought his mother must be right. God must have had a hand in personally shaping this boy, the way He clearly hadn’t with someone like Ed.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said. His voice sounded as soft as he jacket felt.

“What for?” Ed asked, perplexed.

“He hit you,” the boy answered, so quietly it took Ed a moment to register what he’d said.

“That wasn’t cause of you,” Ed said quickly. “He does that a lot.”

“Why?” the boy sniffed.

Ed shrugged, and shook the half orange under his nose, which Ed suddenly noticed was small and round and ridiculously cute. For some reason, Ed longed to tap it with the tip of his finger.

“Here. Eat.”

The boy took the orange, and it was gone a few bites later, while Ed savored each of his slices.

“You have some juice there,” Ed pointed to his chin, indicating the glistening line on the boy’s own face. The hostage wiped at it with his left hand, then licked his palm, the flash of a pink tongue. Adorable, was the word that sprung to Ed’s mind. He’d seldom had cause to think it before.

“I’m Stede,” the boy said once the orange was no more. “Stede Bonnet.”

He held out his right hand. Ed glanced self-consciously down at his own grubby palm, before reaching forward and clasping Stede’s hand. The name sounded strange, but Ed liked it. It was memorable.

“I’m Ed. Edward Teach.”

For some reason this made Stede’s face light up. “Edward Teach, born on a beach!” he chirped.

Ed raised his eyebrows in confusion.

Stede’s mouth snapped shut, and he shied away, glancing down at Ed’s hands as if for an indication that he was about to hit him.

“Sorry!” Stede said hurriedly. “I come up with silly rhymes to help me remember names sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have said it out loud. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ed assured him. Much to his own surprise, a smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. When was the last time he’d smiled? “Edward Teach, born on a beach,” he said slowly. “I like that!”

“Really?” Stede said, looking perplexed, and still nervous.

“Yeah! I think it’d be nice to be born on a beach. The first thing you’d hear would be the ocean!”

A smile quirked at the corners of Stede’s mouth too. “Yeah. I love listening to the ocean.”

There was a wild howl from the deck overhead, followed by the sound of something large breaking, and raucous laughter. Stede flinched again and shrunk toward Ed, who put an arm around his shoulders instinctively. God above, Stede was so small! He felt so fragile.

Determination solidified in Ed’s chest. Life had made him a monster, someone who killed his own father and ran off before his mother could learn what he’d done, straight into the clutches of these bastards. But if nothing else, Edward Teach was strong. He could use that strength for something good for once. For SOMEONE good, for once.

“I’ll keep you safe, Stede Bonnet,” Ed declared, speaking his resolve aloud. “I won’t let anyone hurt you while you’re here.”

Stede raised his head. He didn’t look at Ed like he was a dirty, underfed kid foolishly declaring to stand between an even smaller kid, and a crew of dangerous, full-grown men. He didn’t look at him like he was leagues below Stede in life. Stede looked like he believed him, like he implicitly believed Ed could do anything. Ed’s stomach swooped like a gull over the water when he realized that for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, someone believed in him.

“Thank you, Ed,” Stede said, and the lighthouse-shine of a full smile spread across his pale face.

Chapter Text

All his life Stede had loved watching the ships out at sea, daydreaming about sailing around the world, seeing fascinating animals and unearthing treasures like the explorers he read about in the books he loved. Books never taunted or criticized Stede.

Being on Horngold’s ship, however was very different from any image he’d had while reading those sea faring tales. It smelled different for one thing. Human piss and sweat and excrement, to say nothing of the peculiar reek of the tobacco they smoked or chewed. And then there was the noise, and the violent outbreaks between crewmen at any given moment. Stede knew he would be paralyzed with fear at being trapped aboard this ship, if it wasn’t for Edward.

When he was hauled on board yesterday, Stede was certain he was about to die, of terror or from being stabbed, but then Ed had appeared, and once Stede had been given over into his custody an unfathomable sense of calm came over him. This wasn’t because he and Ed were of an age. Stede was seldom comfortable around boys his own age, who were dismissive at best, malicious at worst. For a fleeting moment Stede was sure Ed would prove the same. But he wasn’t. Not at all.

Besides looking after Stede, Ed still had to work. Every time he started a new task, Ed found the most comfortable out-of-the-way spot he could for Stede to wait in, where he could easily duck out of sight if any of the crew came barreling toward them, but where they were still close enough to talk to each other.

Stede wanted to help, to make Ed’s day a little easier, but when he attempted to assist to mend holes in a sail he only succeeded in tangling the thread and ruining several perfectly good patches. He was sure Ed would chase him off then, curse him for a fool. Anyone else would have, but Ed merely shrugged and started untangling the horrific knot Stede had made, with patience and dexterity that would have put Alexander the Great to shame.

“It’s okay,” Ed assured him, after the fourth time Stede apologized. “You are helping, I promise. All these jobs are way more fun with someone to talk to. Now come on! Tell me more about the mad man in Spain!”

Stede perked up at once, and resumed he account of Don Quixote, complete with the voices as he heard them in his head when he read. When he reached the part about the windmills that Don Quixote insisted were giants, Ed started making a horse coughing noise, and Stede paused, afraid he was choking or something. A second later he realized that Ed was laughing. A grin spread across Stede’s face. It filled him with warmth inside, making someone laugh with his storytelling ability, rather that because of some horrible prank one or both of the Badminton twins were playing on him.

“Fuck off,” Ed said, still smirking, giving Stede a gentle shrug when he noticed his expression.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the story!” Stede said. He never got to get this far into a narrative before someone told him to shut up.

“How do you remember exactly how it went in the book? I could never keep that much in my head.”

“Sure you could!” Stede insisted. “When we were on deck you were telling me about what the clouds meant about the weather. That was amazing! None of my schoolmasters ever taught me anything like that before.”

Ed looked up at Stede, wide-eyed, as if no one had ever called something he’d done amazing before. Stede marveled that anyone had ever told him anything else. Ed was miraculous! Yes, because he was strong and quick and clever, incredibly clever, but also because he was kind. All Stede’s years of being shamed by his father and tormented by his peers, no one had offered to protect him before. But Ed had, unconditionally, without hesitation. That meant the world to Stede.

Just as Stede was clearing his throat sheepishly, preparing to resume the tale of Don Quixote, there was a heavy tread on the steps into the galley. As instructed, Stede hunched down into the large crate he’d been sitting in, and pulled a scratchy blanket over himself. He could still see through the slats in the crate. Stede saw the bosun’s thick, salt-crusted boots approach where Ed was finishing up his work on the sail. At his side, the large man carried one of the heavy iron pots from the kitchen.

“This was s’posed to be done an hour ago,” the bosun snarled. “Cook says you haven’t started on the dishes.”

Stede’s stomach dropped. Ed would have been done long ago if it weren’t for the mess he’d made. Why had he thought he could help? He was a useless idiot!

“I’m nearly—” Ed began, but the bosun swung the pot and brought it cracking into the side of Ed’s jaw, knocking him sideways. Ed didn’t cry out, but Stede swallowed down a pained whimper as he felt the impact of Ed’s body against the floor.

“Hornigold won’t tolerate lazy fuckers on his ship,” the bosun spat. “Where’s that frilly little pansy? If I find you’ve been too busy fondling him to do your chores I’ll give you two dozen. See if I don’t.”

Ed spat a mouthful of blood out on the course wooden planks. “I don’t know where he is. Left to take a piss a bit ago.”

The bosun raised the pot again, and Ed stared staunchly back at him, while Stede flinched in anticipation of the blow. But then the man paused. His hand darted down and caught up something that looked like it had fallen out of Ed’s pocket. A square of red fabric.

This did what the physical onslaught could not, coaxing a cry of anger and dismay from Ed’s throat.

“Give that back!” he demanded, leaping to his feet and lunging for the big man’s meaty fist. The bosun merely lashed out with the pot again, catching Ed across shoulder and sending him sprawling. With a cruel smirk, the bosun drew the red cloth to his face, as if about to wipe his sweaty brow or blow his nose with it. Seeing Ed’s eyes wide and panicked, Stede could remain hidden no longer. He stood up in his crate as if he’d just been waiting for the right time to make his entrance.

“I must say, Mr. Bosun, that shade of red goes wonderfully with your complexion!” he decreed, pasting on a vibrant smile. The bosun looked momentarily startled, the hand with the cloth in it dropping a fraction. Stede pressed his advantage, keeping his tone light, like he’d heard his mother do in the parties she insisted on having. “It brings out the reddish tinge around your eyes. One could almost say they look a bit bloodshot. But of course that can’t be right.” Stede tapped his chin in mock contemplation. “Ruddy completion, red eyes. One would almost think you’d been drinking, Mr. Bosun. But Captain Hornigold doesn’t allow those he’s charged with guarding the ship to drink on duty.” Stede had heard the crewmen who’d captured him lamenting this fact at length. “He’s quite insistent on it, I believe.”

The bosun dropped the pot and lunged forward to seize Stede by the now much abused collar of his shirt, lifting him clean off the ground with both hands.

“Breathe one word of these false claims to the captain, you little shit, and I don’t care what your father pays to get you back in one piece. I’ll start cutting off your toes and feeding them to you!”

Stede coughed in response, scrabbling at the bosun’s hands with his own much smaller ones. Ed was on his feet again, shouting for the bosun to put Stede down, but the man merely sneered, holding him aloft a few more lengthy seconds, before opening his fists and letting Stede crash to the floor.

Ed rushed to Stede’s side as the bosun turned on his heel and stormed out of the galley. Eyes wide with concern, Ed peeled back the collar of Stede’s shirt to examine his throat.

“I’m sorry. Stede, I’m sorry,” Ed started saying as soon as the door snapped shut behind the bosun. “Are you hurt?”

Stede’s feelings were a confused tangle, given that Ed could ask him that while his own chin ran with blood, and the dark bruise was growing from where he’d been struck so violently. Still, a grin spread across Stede’s face when Ed’s eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. Stede held up his left hand and opened his fist, revealing the square of red silk. It felt very fine indeed, in Stede’s considerable experience.

“I got it!” he wheezed, his breathing a bit ragged.

Ed let out a small gasp, his beautiful dark eyes flicking from the fabric to Stede’s face, and back again, blinking rapidly a few times as if striving not to cry. He reached out and gently took the cloth gently from Stede.

“I—” Ed cleared his throat and tried again. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” Stede said brightly. “He didn’t appreciate how fine it was. Precious things belong with those who know their value.”

Stede didn’t know why he did it, but he reached out and took Ed’s hand holding the cloth between both of his own soft, pale ones. It felt very important, probably the most important thing in Stede Bonnet’s young life, to let Edward Teach know that he valued him, that he was worth everything.

A single tear rolled down Ed’s bruised cheek. He brushed it away hastily on his sleeve.

“The way you spoke to him,” Ed began slowly, still looking away from Stede. “It sounded polite, but you used it to make him mad.”

Stede nodded. “It’s called passive aggression. My parents use it all the time on guests they hate, but keep inviting over anyway.”

“That’s fucking diabolical.”

“It is.”

Word came from Stede’s father early the next day.

Stede and Ed were curled up on Ed’s worn, lumpy cot like barnyard kittens, when Hornigold woke Stede by reaching down and hauling him to his feet by one arm.

Stede yelped, squawking around the word, “Geese!” He had a tendency to have nightmares about monster geese with their heads lopped off, spraying blood everywhere.

Ed was fully conscious and on his feet in the next instant.

“Let him go,” he growled, all dark-eyed ferocity.

Hornigold merely chuckled cruelly.

“Sorry to take your pet away, water rat, but it’s time to send the little lord home. His father’s certainly paying enough.”

Stede’s left arm was still held in Hornigold’s vice-like grip, but he held his right hand out to Ed.

“I’m very glad to have met you, Edward Teach.”

Hornigold laughed uproariously at this sign of courtesy, but Ed ignored him completely, clasping Stede’s hand tight.

“Yeah. Um. Me too,” he managed, swallowing hard, desperately wishing he had fine words to give Stede in return.

Stede gave him a weak smile, before he was dragged off.

Feeling suddenly dizzy, Ed sank back down onto his cot and curled up.

Gone. Just like that. Fleeting as lightning, which struck down in Ed’s life, leaving the landscape altered forever.

Ed snaked a hand under the tattered bundle of clothes he used as a pillow, and clasped the lace of Stede’s cravat for dear life as he struggled to take in each next breath.

Chapter Text

Stede Bonnet was twenty years of age, in the prime of his life, wealthy, well educated, and utterly miserable.

The cause of his misery was his father’s latest proclamation: that Stede would wed a young woman named Mary Allamby, and he would be expected to settle into the exact same life his parents occupied, overseeing their lands and livestock, attending the parties of people they ridiculed. This was what it was to be rich, as he father was so fond of reminding him. Or as fond as the man could be of anything. Stede wondered if his father had ever known joy, perhaps before Stede’s birth. Stede rather hoped so. It was sad to think of him always existing in this state of constant disappointment.

All the details had been arranged by his parents, and the parents of his intended. The documents were signed, the date set. Stede’s one consolation was that as a wedding present Stede was getting to sail to England on one of those posh vessels. Stede hadn’t been at sea since he was a child, if you could call Hornigold’s ship hovering just off shore while he waited for word of the ransom from Stede’s father being “at sea,” which now that Stede thought about it didn’t really count. So at least Stede had one thing to look forward to, even if he was certain the other passengers would be insufferable. A whole ship full of pompous rich people. Stede could feel the headache coming on already.

Once his best clothes had been carefully packed, the servants loaded his luggage into the carriage, and he was off to the docks. He would have said goodbye to his parents, but he couldn’t find either of them. Stede decided against leaving a farewell missive. Stede knew it would be a waste of perfectly good paper.

The ship Stede boarded was absolutely beautiful! Though Stede couldn’t help wishing it had a few secret passages. Just for fun.

“Thank you so much,” Stede said to the youth who brought the last of his luggage to his stateroom. He was a young Black man, somewhere in his middling teens if Stede had to guess.

“Of course, sir,” he responded, eyes fixed on the floor. “Is there anything else you require?”

“No, thank you,” Stede said brightly. Stede’s eyes traveled to the circular window, through which he could see the horizon. The sight thrilled him, and he couldn’t help but ask, “Do you like being at sea? This seems like a lovely vessel to live on!”

“Yes, sir,” the young man said stiffly. “It’s an honor to serve, sir.”

Stede turned back to him. “Oh, knowing these passengers, I highly doubt ‘honor’ is the most apt word.”

He gave the youth a conspiratorial smirk just as the youth raised his eyes, and to Stede’s delight he released a snort of amusement, before slapping a hand over his mouth, his eyes growing wide with fear.

Stede tried to reassure him with his most unthreatening smile (and given that he was Stede Bonnet, that was very unthreatening indeed). “I’m Stede Bonnet,” he said, holding out a hand. The lad looked downright confused. First he glanced behind him, to make sure there were no witnesses, then wiped his hands on his crisp shirt before hesitatingly shaking Stede’s hand. Stede had a vivid memory of a similar reaction to a handshake nearly a decade ago, and his heart gave a painful twist.

Ed.

Stede used to write to him, after he’d been returned to his family and found himself lonelier than ever. Realizing he’d never get to tell Ed about the rest of Don Quixote, Stede had actually burst into tears right there at the dinner table his first night back. His father had snapped at him to quit the table if he couldn’t comport himself like a gentleman. Of course, he’d had nowhere to send the letters, but he’d saved them all. He had several hundred by now, tucked carefully away in a box concealed at the back of his closet.

“What’s your name, young man?” Stede asked, snapping himself back to the present.

The youth swallowed, and looked around again just to be sure, but something gratifyingly like trust solidified behind his eyes.

“The other servants call me Frenchie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Frenchie,” Stede beamed. “Are you from France? I’ve never been, but I hear it’s lovely.”

“I was born there, but I don’t remember anything about it. I was just a baby when my mother and I were brought to Barbados.”

“Well, it’s good to know at least one person I can respect on this ship. I always hope to be pleasantly surprised, but between you and me I doubt I’ll meet many people among the passengers worth knowing.”

Frenchie smirked, but his brow was still furrowed in confusion. “You’re a very unusual man, Mr. Bonnet.”

“You certainly aren’t the first to say so,” Stede grinned. “And I assume you won’t be the last.” It was an opinion he was sure his future wife would share.

Once Frenchie departed, Stede retrieved his nicest outfit to change into for dinner. “Make everyone feel underdressed, and suddenly you’re the one in charge,” Stede said to himself. He just needed to have confidence, and this dinner, and hopefully the rest of the voyage, wouldn’t be a disaster.

Dinner was a definitely disaster.

The glittering, ornate dining room rang with the shrill laughter of people far more elegantly dressed than him, all with cutting comments about the set of his suit, or his wording when he answered their barbed questions. Stede wanted to curl up under the table and die, but if he admitted defeat by excusing himself early they would only laugh harder, so Stede was trapped for at least four more courses.

Damn.

‘Fucking diabolical,’ Stede remembered Ed saying, and had to hide a sudden smile behind his napkin.

There was a burst of sound outside, and the ship juddered. A woman shrieked as her wine glass slipped from her fingers and sent its crimson contents down her bodice and skirts. Further uproar could be heard outside. One of the passengers rushed in, his wig eschew, as he wailed, “Pirates! We’re under attack!”

All the people around Stede started to scream and scrabble for the doors. The only reason Stede did not was shock, and uncertainty that his cabin would be any safer, given that it was where all the valuables were that pirates would be inclined to kill him over. The first conscious thought that permeated Stede Bonnet’s shocked brain was, ‘See? Secret passages WOULD be a good idea on a ship!’

Stede got to his shaking feet and peered out one of the dining room’s windows. The sun was going down, but in the dying light Stede could just make out the flag of the ship that was advancing on them: a spindly horned devil brandishing a spear. The sight chilled Stede’s heart. He’d encountered pirates once before, and he felt no bolder or better equipped to face off against them at twenty than he did at twelve. Well fuck. That wasn’t a great revelation to have right now!

At another burst of what Stede could now safely assume was cannon fire, he threw himself down to squat behind a chair. Just then, Frenchie came dashing into the dining room. Stede was the last passenger in the room, and Frenchie blinked at him in surprise.

“Mr. Bonnet? Are you okay?”

“A bit terrified at the moment,” Stede admitted.

“You can follow behind me,” Frenchie said, catching up a gleaming carving knife from the table. Arming himself hadn’t even occurred to Stede. “I know ways around this ship the pirates will never think of.”

Stede breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Frenchie,” Stede said earnestly, swallowing down any shame he might have felt at having to be saved by someone little more than a child.

The route Frenchie led him down was perfectly clear at first, until they rounded one corner and found the corridor jam packed with a heard of panicking rich people.

“Oh fuck,” Frenchie groaned under his breath. They tried to backtrack, only to find their route blocked off by some fleeing servants. “We’re going to have to go up on deck,” Frenchie said. “Just stay quiet and stay low, and they probably won’t see us.” He paused, eyes going to Stede’s bright red dinner jacket, elaborately embroidered with gold. “You know you’ll need to take that off, right?”

Stede hesitated for a second too long, but at Frenchie’s pointedly raised eyebrows Stede shrugged out of his jacket. There was nowhere to drape it! He just had to drop it in a heap on the floor, all that gorgeous, perfectly tailored fabric! Stede forced himself to prioritize the need to survive, and turned his gaze away from the abandoned item of clothing and follow Frenchie.

When they slipped through a door onto the deck, Stede gasped. Green mist was creeping across the deck. It felt like anything at all could emerge from it, demons or dragons or phantoms! Stede’s heart stuttered in fear and he froze in his crouched tracks. Ahead of him, Frenchie kept moving.

Men were emerging through the fog, great burly seamen with guns and knives. Yes, Stede Bonnet was quite sure this was how he died: at the hands of muscled, smoke wielding sea devils! His eyebrows went up when he realized this was ABSOLUTELY the coolest way he could except to die! Better than being kicked to death by a horse, or dwindling away to wearied old age. And this way he wouldn’t have to get married, so there was also that.

Stede had just enough presence of mind to be grateful he’d frozen behind a large, ornate trunk, because none of the pirates made for him. Just when it seemed that a whole host had come aboard, a great booming voice issued through the fog:

“Prepare to be boarded by the ruthless Captain Blackbeard!”

And then the most intimidating silhouette of all emerged through the fog. Stede’s breath caught, and forgot to be afraid because the moment was, in a word, majestic.

The man, Blackbeard, had a strong, solid figure, with broad shoulders and long, flowing dark hair that framed his face, and a truly impressive beard as black as his name suggested. He was also clad in black leather, his exposed right arm covered in tattoos, and he wore fingerless gloves. Stede was transfixed.

Blackbeared paused to talk to one of the other pirates, then nodded and made to follow him. That was the exact moment Frenchie realized that Stede wasn’t behind him.

“Mr. Bonnet!” he said, in a whisper that clearly carried across the several yards separating them. “Hssst! Stede Bonnet!”

Stede was still watching Blackbeard. The captain must have incredible hearing, because even with the clamor of the pirates running about, and the cries of alarm and ferocity from inside the ship, Blackbeard’s entire body froze when the words left Frenchie’s mouth.

Slowly, over several seconds in which Stede forgot how to breathe, Blackbeard turned, brushing aside his thick curtain of hair. He turned when he was at exactly the right angle to see Stede, still crouched behind the trunk. Their gazes locked. Dark, intelligent eyes peering out from all that wild, dark hair. Stede’s stomach tightened. For a startled moment he wondered why he was feeling faint, only to realize he’d neglected to start breathing again. He blinked and took in a desperate lungful of air. Holding Blackbeard’s gaze, Stede straightened up. He was startled to realize they were the same height. It just seemed natural that this intimidating pirate captain would be taller.

“Edward?” one of the pirates said, gruff but respectful.

Hearing the name, Stede took an unconscious step forward, further from the safe route Frenchie was showing him, and closer to Blackbeard.

The next instant there was a blade at Stede’s throat. His blood turned to ice in his veins.

“Stand down, Ivan,” Blackbeard snapped. “This one’s mine.”

The shorter man, Ivan, shrugged and lowered his blade. Blackbeard jerked his head toward the door, and Ivan vanished inside. Blackbeard didn’t draw either of the weapons strapped to his sides.

“Your name,” Blackbeard said firmly. “What is it?”

“Stede Bonnet,” Stede answered automatically.

Blackbeard’s whole face lit up, eyes bright with awe and disbelief. He suddenly looked much younger, not an impressively hardened criminal, but like an excited child who laughed at the misadventures of Don Quixote.

“Stede,” Blackbeard breathed, as if the name were worthy of reverence. Then he blinked and let his earnest gaze dart away. “You probably don’t remember me, but, um, I’m—”

“Edward Teach,” Stede cut in, giddy bubbles of joy rising in his chest. “Born on a beach!”

“Yeah!” Ed gasped. “Yeah, that’s me!”

Stede was struggling to breathe again, this time because it felt like his heart was expanding, leaving no room for his lungs. Stede rushed forward until he was directly in front of Blackbeard, in front of Edward Teach, the hero of his boyhood. But then he faulted, realizing he probably shouldn’t throw his arms around him without permission, but couldn’t think what else to say or do.

It was Ed who reached out and clasped Stede’s upper arms, as if needing to reassure himself that Stede was solid.

“Oh my god, Stede! You’re here!”

“I’m here!” Stede laughed past the sudden prickle of joyful tears accumulating behind his eyes. “Ed!”

That’s when the gun went off. Stede’s body rocked backward, but Ed held onto him.

“IZZY!” Ed roared. Stede’s shock metamorphosed into pain.

“Stand down!” Ed barked, his hands all that was holding Stede up. Stede dared to glance down at his shoulder, which was now a mess of blood and shredded fabric.

Without a single conscious thought on this state of things, Stede Bonnet passed out.

Chapter Text

“Don’t dream too grand now,” his mother once told Ed when he was small, after he prattled on about all the wonders he wanted to see in the world. He was six or seven in this memory, and still thought dragons were real. He was convinced they lived in the clouds on stormy days. That’s what got him watching the clouds intently from an early age. After awhile he started uncovering their secrets, even if they weren’t the exact secrets he wanted as a child. It served him well, all the same.

All that is to say, Edward had no excuse. He was raised to know better. This was his fault, for dreaming too grand. Damn him. Not that he wasn’t thrice damned already.

Ever since the morning Stede was ripped away, Ed had wanted him back. Every fiber of his being had wanted that, more than food when there was none, more than clothes that kept out the wet and the chill. Ed wished so hard that he forgot one important fact of life:

Edward Teach’s wishes were deadly.

He’d wished for better for his mother, wished so hard he woke something dark and creeping deep in his soul. Something that rose up and put an end to the man who terrorized them both.

Then Ed wished to be respected, to become someone no one would kick or beat bloody just because he was in the way, just because they felt like it. That wish woke just enough of the darkness to become as ruthless as people needed to believe he was, carving away more and more of himself, day by day, until he became Blackbeard. He threatened, and maimed, and fed a shipload of people to the flames until the reputation stuck, and he could be assured no-one would hurt him without a thought ever again.

Now he’d gotten his final wish. The strongest wish, the one closest to his heart.

And Stede Bonnet, beautiful, soft, golden, crafted-by-God Stede Bonnet, had paid the price.

“Be careful what you ask your god for,” Ed breathed to himself. “She just might answer.”

At this moment Stede was unconscious on the narrow bed in Ed’s cabin, shoulder carefully cleaned and stitched and bandaged. Ed had left as the surgeon worked, using that time to pay Izzy a visit. Izzy Hands was on deck, tied to a barrel full of rocks.

“If he lives I’ll throw you over,” Ed announced, voice as hard and cold as the aforementioned rocks. “If he dies I’ll skin you first. Slowly. With a very small knife.”

Izzy looked at him, unblinking. He had the beginnings of a short, dark goatee coming in at his chin.

“Don’t you want to know why I did it?” Izzy asked, in that soft, ‘I swallowed a wad of cotton and now it’s lodged in my throat forever’ voice of his.

“I don’t give a single fuck,” Ed growled.

“You made me your first mate because I knew exactly who you were trying to be,” Izzy said, ignoring Ed’s stern tone for once. “And the look on your face when you looked at that rich twat wasn’t Blackbeard. I was protecting your future, Ed, better than you or anyone else ever will.”

The corners of Ed’s mouth drew down, but he nodded as if in consideration, until he took a bread loaf-sized stone that had fallen out of the barrel, and struck Izzy in the back of the head, just hard enough to send him slumping over the barrel, unconscious.

Since returning from that little errand Ed hadn’t left Stede’s bedside. Fear for Stede and fury at himself seethed inside him with equal ferocity.

All his fault, for dreaming too grand. For having an image Izzy was willing to kill to protect. For wanting to see Stede Bonnet again even though he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Stede was even paler than normal, but he was beautiful in sleep, like something from a painting of a sleeping, golden youth Ed had seen on a ship they'd raided. He'd longed to take that painting, but it had been too big to carry. Ed hardly dared blink, fearing Stede would stop breathing any second. But his breaths remained even. Every once in awhile he said something, fragments of his dreams slipping past his lips.

A pitiful “I’m sorry, Father,” made Ed’s heart twist to the point of pain, and he reached forward to place his hand gently, as gently as he was able, over Stede’s. Nearly an hour later he said, “But I don’t want to. I’m sorry. Sorry,” his voice just as small and fearful as it had been before. It was well over an hour later that Stede spoke again.

“Ed,” he said brightly, not small, but with the soft corners of his mouth lifting into a smile.

This time Ed’s heart fluttered. In that moment, Edward Teach would have given up everything he had ever been, or would ever be, if it meant he would hear Stede Bonnet say his name like that again, with his bright blue eyes open and full of wonder.

Don’t dream too grand now.

Anyway, it was a far grander thing than Ed felt he deserved to be part of Stede’s dreams, after all the time he’d spent shaping himself into a nightmare.

The sun had just barely risen when Stede’s eyes fluttered open.

“Ed,” he sighed. Soft. Weary. But smiling. Then his brow furrowed. “What happened?”

His right hand drifted up, toward his bandaged left shoulder. Ed caught the hand before it reached its destination, holding it gently in his own so Stede didn’t inadvertently cause himself any pain.

“My first mate shot you.”

Ed couldn’t look at Stede’s face. Instead he watched his thumb drift back and forth over Stede’s knuckles. Christ almighty, there were fairy tale heroines who were as pale as this man, Ed was sure of it! And now there was a hole in him, torn through that smooth skin, all because of Ed.

“Fuck,” Ed choked out, letting his head fall forward onto the mattress.

He was exhausted. He didn’t let himself sleep, in case Stede woke and needed anything. And it’s not like he got much sleep the night before, too busy putting the fine touches on everything they would need for the fuckery.

“I am so sorry, Stede.” Ed wasn’t crying, but it emerged as a sob anyway. Stupid, treacherous tongue and throat, and whatever else went into make his voice work.

“Hey,” Stede crooned. He started running a hand tenderly though Ed’s long hair, gently combing the tangles out, as if Ed was someone who deserved care. It took Ed far longer than it should to realize he was still holding Stede’s hand, which meant he was using the arm connected to the injured shoulder. Stede shouldn’t do that! The movement would surely cause him pain! Ed sat up slowly, letting Stede’s hand slide from his head.

“You have circles under your eyes,” Stede observed, through a yawn.

“Didn’t sleep much.” Or at all. “Too geared up. You know, from the raid.”

“Of course,” Stede nodded sympathetically. “They must really get your blood pumping, all that gusto.”

“Yeah. That.”

Stede’s eyes finally traveled beyond Ed, taking in the cabin. “This is your room?”

“Yeah,” Ed repeated, suddenly self conscious over how shabby and cluttered it was.

“A real pirate captain’s cabin!” Stede murmured, face full of awe. “I already like it better than anywhere on Hornigold’s ship.”

Ed snorted out a laugh, and was about to say, “Low bar, that,” when Stede suddenly gasped, “Oh!” and Ed leapt to his feet, certain Stede was hurt and determined to do something about it. But Stede’s brow was furrowed in concern, not pain. Funny how Ed already knew the difference.

“But that means I took your bed! No wonder you didn’t sleep!”

“It’s okay,” Ed started to assure him, but Stede was already shifting over in the limited space, wincing as the subtle movement traveled through his wounded shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Ed asked, alarmed.

“You should lay down,” Stede said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Get some sleep. Sleep in important.”

Ed swallowed. “There isn’t room.”

Stede pouted. “Are you calling me fat?”

Ed snorted again. “Of course you’re not fat.”

Stede visibly brightened at this. Then he looked at the strip of the thin mattress between them. “Just lay down for a bit. Please, Ed?”

Ed’s heart stuttered. Okay, so he cousin’t resist giving in when Stede Bonnet said please. This was a thing he knew about himself now.

He settled gingerly on his side, facing Stede.

“That’s it,” Stede smiled his soft smile, which made Ed simultaneously weak and warm inside. “Just rest your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Ed asked, his heavy lids already drifting shut.

“I promise,” Stede Bonnet said earnestly.

With that, Edward Teach drifted into the soundest sleep he’d had in ages.

Years.

Maybe ever.

Chapter Text

Stede Bonnet was coming to realize that there was a level of hell specifically for awkward, anxious, not-quite-right people like him. There had to be, because he was absolutely in it!

That level of hell was the exact length and width of Edward Teach’s bed. Stede lay there, paralyzed, afraid even to breathe too deeply, lest he shatter this moment of tumultuous agony and longing; a moment that hinged entirely on Ed remaining asleep.

For a while Stede had managed to drift off again once Ed was settled in beside him. Apparently it took a lot out of a person, being shot then stitched back together. He lingered in blissful semiconsciousness, until his eyes snapped open and he was launched back into the waking world with a jarring internal crash.

The source of said crash was Ed’s hand, that beautiful, callused hand, which had reached out and rested on Stede’s stomach. A stomach that was bare, given that his shirt had been cut away while his shoulder was being tended to, his upper torso swaddled in a thick web of bandages. That one point of skin-to-skin contact sent every drop of blood in Stede’s body trying to flood two places at once: into his face, and into his…intimate bits.

He tried to think about whatever he usually conjured to banish inconvenient arousal: angry geese, jeering laughter, disapproving expressions, suites of clothes made out of clashing colors and corse fabrics. But it was impossible to focus on unpleasantness when Ed was RIGHT THERE, with that gorgeous dark hair fanned out against the pillow, the young captain’s once haggard expression now smoothed out in tranquil slumber. He reminded Stede of a god from the books of mythology he so loved, so much power and comeliness in one awe-inspiring being. Stede could definitely see himself worshiping at an alter dedicated to Ed…

Then he wanted to smack himself because that image was NOT helping the growing affliction between his legs! He couldn’t rise from bed to take care of it, because he was against the wall, and even if he dared to try to climb over Ed (another mental image that did not help) he was honestly afraid his arm would fall off. He didn’t want Ed to have to wake up to Stede’s blood everywhere, not after how pained his eyes were earlier.

With a horrific jolt in the pit of his stomach, Stede realized the question that should have risen to his mind as soon as his member had risen in his trousers: What if Ed woke and saw him like this? He’d be disgusted! What man wouldn’t be? He’d have Stede cast into the sea, and Stede would drown. He wasn’t the strongest swimmer, even when both his arms were in tact.

Stede glared down at his treacherous loins when even the thought of his watery demise couldn’t get it to flag. Though he had to grudgingly admit that he didn’t blame it, given that Ed chose that moment to sigh in his sleep, the warm breath ghosting over Stede’s ear and sending his entire body erupting in gooseflesh, and sheer, tangible want. Ed shifted, his leg brushing Stede’s, and Stede sucked in a breath.

The current that traveled through him carried with it the memory of Stede’s favorite recurring nightmare. He thought of it as a nightmare because consciously he knew it should be frightening, but he never felt even a flicker of fear when the dream was happening. Only after, when he had to confront what the dream meant for him did the terror touch him.

The nightmare first manifested less than a year after he was ransomed back from Hornigold, back before the pain of missing Ed had scarred over, when it still felt like a gaping wound inside his chest.

It was just a normal dream back then. In it, Stede was on the open ocean in a rowboat. He never had a clear destination, just aimless rowing. In the way of dreams, the awareness grew in him that in the depths below the boat a creature was swimming, and that it knew he was there. He never feared the beast would capsize his boat, or crush him in one of its long tentacles like a mouse in a trap. Rather, Stede was comforted by it, as if the vast sea creature was a friend or companion.

But around the time Stede was fifteen or sixteen, the dream altered. It began just the same: in a rowboat, no sight of land, a creature he’d started to think of as the Kraken drifting below. And then the Kraken was rising, drawing nearer and nearer Stede’s little vessel. His heart rate spiked, but with anticipation rather than fear. At the moment when the Kraken is about to break the surface of the water, it’s not a giant cephalopod, but a naked man, with eyes as dark as storm clouds, and sun-kissed brown skin. The man climbs into the boat and cups Stede's face and kisses him, before covering Stede with his body. At this point in the dream Stede always feels both exhilarated and secure as something happens between their bodies (his subconscious can only do so much with his limited understanding, and nonexistent experience). Throughout his adolescence he’d either wake up having spent against his mattress, or still painfully hard.

Like now.

God! He was as pathetic as everyone said he was. As soon as Ed woke up he would realize it too.

And that was the thought that finally did it, threw water on the flaming ardor that had been licking its way through Stede’s body. Not Ed’s anger or disgust, but his derision.

Because of course Stede would be met with derision. Ed deserved someone as alluring and exciting as himself, and Stede was…just Stede. Peculiar and weak.

Stede wrenched his eyes away from Ed’s face, turning his own face toward the wall before the tears could escape. He pressed the hand that had held Ed’s just hours before over his mouth, so he wouldn’t bother Ed with his sniffles, and hastily swallowed sobs.

It was an insult to Ed for Stede to even think of him that way. Ed could have anyone. Ed should have everything, all the magnificent things the world had to offer.

Stede heard Ed draw in a breath, and shift on the mattress. Stede hastily made sure all his tears were wiped away by the time Ed raised himself on an elbow, and Stede turned to grin at him.

“Did you sleep alright?” Stede asked jovially. One useful thing boarding school taught him was how to sound perfectly normal at the drop of a hat, no matter how hard he’d been crying seconds before.

“Best sleep I’ve had in ages,” Ed grinned down at him, and Stede’s heart fluttered the way a bird’s broken wing does: incapable of getting him into the air, but unable to resist striving no matter the pain.

Ed reached out and brushed a thumb over Stede’s cheek. “You’re getting some color back! That’s wonderful, mate! Wait right here, I’ll grab you some breakfast.”

With that, Ed bounded out of bed and was gone, taking Stede Bonnet's broken bird of a heart with him.

Chapter Text

Ed was surprised by how quickly Stede recovered from being shot. He expected him to be bed bound for at least a month. From what he’d heard, that’s what rich people did when inconvenienced by illness, injury, or any other sign of their own mortality: they stayed in bed for weeks and took tinctures of syrup, alcohol, and of course laudanum and cocaine. But after two and a half days in Ed’s cabin, Stede was feeling restless and wanted a tour of the ship.

He must have seen the hesitation in Ed’s face, because Stede's eyes got wide, as they did when he was about to start pleading.

“Oh Ed, do say yes! It is my birthday, after all.”

Ed raised his eyebrows. “It is?”

“Yes!” Stede said with uninhibited jollity, as only Stede could. “Twenty-one years this very day! When’s your birthday?”

Ed shrugged, striking a pose of utter nonchalance. “No idea.”

Stede’s brow furrowed. “Your parents never told you?”

Ed snorted. “My father was never sober enough to remember, if he ever knew. It doesn’t matter. Lots of the guys out there don’t know their birthdays. But come on, then, mate! Time to show you my ship,” Ed said quickly, when Stede looked ready to say something else. Ed didn’t want to talk about birthdays, or any other fancy thing he didn’t even know to consider that he was missing out on. He helped Stede up, and let him lean against Ed as they made their way out of the cabin.

The first person they encountered was the new cabin boy they’d picked up on the last raid, who was in the midst of moving a cask of gunpowder. Stede’s face lit up.

“Hello, Frenchie! Didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Mr. Bonnet! You’re still alive!” the young man exclaimed. “Yeah, they asked if any of us in service wanted to join them, and I thought it sounded like a good deal. Oh! You need to see what one of the crew gave me! Wait right here! Er, by your leave, Captain?” Frenchie said, pausing when he remembered Blackbeard was right there. At Ed’s nod of permission, Frenchie scampered off.

“Even your servants liked you?” Ed asked, incredulous, once Frenchie was out of earshot. He’d never met anyone in service who liked anyone they worked for, and certainly wouldn’t have been as at ease as Frenchie clearly was with Stede.

“Oh, Frenchie didn’t work for me specifically. He was employed on the ship. He seems like a very intelligent young man though. Your ship has found a valuable new member!”

Ed smirked. “Ivan said he saw him nail his own sleeve to a plank of wood yesterday.”

Stede shrugged his good shoulder. “No one’s good at everything.”

“S’pose not,” Ed acquiesced, his heart warming in his chest. He’d never in his life known someone who saw some good in everyone, in every situation. It was an outlook that was uniquely Stede’s. He hoped he’d get a chance to see a great deal more of it, before something inevitably tore Stede away again.

Frenchie rushed back, gunpowder absent and hopefully somewhere secure. In his arms he now cradled a battered mandolin.

“Look what Fang gave me!” he beamed at the broken instrument like it was his firstborn. “He said one of the rich ladies bashed him over the head with it, and he took it from her, but once he was back on the ship he didn’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to play, but once I fix it up I’m going to learn. Mum always said cheery music keeps demons away!”

Okay, this kid was just too adorable. How had they raided some rich party vessel, and come away with the two sunniest people Ed had ever met? Was this what people were like when they weren’t always drunk like that bastard Calico Jack, or eternally angry like Izzy?

Oh shit. Izzy. Ed still had to throw him overboard. He hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He needed to find another first mate to remind him to do things.

No, Ed was willing to bet that people like Frenchie and Stede were rare by anyone’s standards.

After Stede assured Frenchie he’d be a marvelous musician, they continued their tour. Stede expressed enthusiasm and appreciation for everything from how they stored food and supplies (“So efficient!") to the crew’s outfits (“So much leather! Very intimidating vibe!”). Though even his indomitable energy seemed to flag around the time they reached the deck, and Ed helped him to his cabin for a nap. Ed was secretly thrilled, because an idea had started forming in Ed’s mind and he was eager to get started on it. As soon as Stede was fast asleep, Ed went off in search of the nicest scrap of wood he could find.

Ed didn’t see Stede again until he brought him dinner a few hours later. They had dinner alone in Ed’s cabin, as they had since Stede woke up. Stede was sitting up in the bed, propped up on pillows, and Ed was sitting in his desk chair, feet up on a corner of the mattress. Ed had ordered the cook to make something special in honor of Stede’s birthday, and they were splitting a whole chicken between them. Cook still had three live chickens keeping him company in the galley. Ed heard the crew muttering about how the cook whispered his secrets to each chicken before he killed and cooked it. Well, secrets or no secrets, the meat was surprisingly well seasoned and deliciously tender. The cook was doing a wonderful job. Ed hoped he remembered to tell him so.

After the meal, Stede sat up as straight as he could against his pillows.

“I have a surprise for you!”

“What?” Ed said, confused since that was exactly what he’d been about to say.

Stede pulled a neatly tied handkerchief from his pocket.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t have anything else to wrap it in. I promise it’s clean.”

Ed reached forward and silently took the little bundle. He untied the prim knot at the top of the handkerchief. It fell open, and a ring glinted up at him, one he’d seen on Stede. It was a silver band, inlaid with a bright red ruby.

“Why are you giving me this?” Ed asked, breathless, completely at a loss.

“It didn’t feel right that you never got any gifts in honor of your birthday,” Stede said, his cheeks pinking slightly. “So I wanted to give you one. I’m sorry it’s not new, but the ruby reminded me of that red silk you had when we were young. I knew you’d wear it well.”

Ed looked up from the ring, eyes wide, mouth dry with the sudden all-consuming urge to kiss the man before him. But instead of making a move to do so, something lurched in his chest, and Ed burst out laughing. The corners of Stede’s mouth quirked upward in response to Ed’s mirth, but he was clearly confused.

“Was it…something I said?” he asked slowly.

In answer, Ed pulled the small parcel from his own pocket: the square of red silk carefully tied. Stede’s eyes went wide as Ed held it out to him.

“You still have it!” Stede gasped.

“That’s not all I’ve held on to,” Ed said, gesturing for Stede to open his gift. Stede complied, handling the cloth with care.

Inside was a layer of lace, and now it was Stede’s turn to let out a startled laugh.

“Is this…” he ran his fingers over it, “my old cravat?”

“Yeah.”

Ed flinched when Stede’s fingers found the singed corner. “I had a shipmate a few years ago. Calico Jack. He found it and tried to light it on fire.” Ed swallowed. Jack had only found it because the two had been ripping each other’s clothes off, and it had fallen out of his pocket. Jack had found the frilly lace hilarious. Ed gave him cause to think differently. “I broke his hand,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Stede said, raising his eyebrows.

“Okay, I broke both his hands.” Ed looked away. “We were both drunk, and I got so fucking angry at the thought of losing the last thing I had of you.”

“Oh,” Stede repeated, thought this time it sounded more like a squeak.

Ed cleared his throat. “There’s something else in there. I promise I’m not just giving you old fabric.”

Stede returned his attention to what was in his hands. Nestled in the lace was a freshly carved bird in flight. Stede gasped in delight, gently caressing the wings. Stede did’t know this, but it was as exact as Ed could get to the eagle tattooed on Ed’s own collarbone. He’d secured it to a cord so Stede could wear it about his neck.

“Oh, Ed!” Stede beamed. “I love it!”

The genuine joy in his voice flooded Ed’s insides with warmth.

“I love my gift too. Thank you , Stede.”

Ed slipped the ruby ring on the first finger of his right hand. It was a perfect fit. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a gift, one that wasn’t just his share of the plunder from a vanquished ship. Stede Bonnet had remembered Ed’s piece of silk, and given him one of his own jewels. Ed caressed the side of the ruby with the pad of his thumb. He looked up again to see Stede watching him, a beautiful, affectionate smile on his face.

“Here, let me help you with that, mate.” Ed got up and took the eagle from Stede’s hands and slipped the black cord gently over his head. The bird came to rest directly over Stede’s heart.

Stede looked up at Ed, his face as sweet and thrilling as the first days of summer after an excruciatingly long winter. Before he could think, Ed bent down and pressed his lips to Stede’s. Stede made a surprised sound, somewhere between a yelp and a moan, but he didn’t pull away.

Ed had just cupped Stede’s face as he kissed him, every molecule in his body alive with the sheer miracle of this moment, when a cannonball careened into the hull of ship.

Chapter Text

The whole ship lurched at the force of thee impact. Ed fell against Stede, and Stede clutched at him, mind flooded with the fear that SOMETHING (a musket ball or shard of metal, anything could be dangerous thrown at a strong velocity) had burst through into their cabin, and struck Ed.

His father had raised Stede to believe that he was unworthy, incapable of earning anything he had, or would ever have. Stede couldn’t say he disagreed, but he was still loathe to surrender a single moment with someone as remarkable as Edward Teach. Edward Teach, who had KISSED him! How could any mere mortal be worthy of that?? Especially a mortal as mere as Stede? Stede couldn’t lose him. Not again. Especially not to something as cruelly permanent as death.

Ed wrapped one of his strong arms around Stede, the other one braced against the wall so he didn’t fall forward and crush him. Not that Stede would have objected to the weight of Ed’s body. At all.

After a few panicked heart beats, Ed raised his hands and cupped Stede’s face gently between them. For one wild, hopeful moment, Stede was sure he was going to start kissing him again. But he only said, “Stay here,” firmly and turned to make for the door, catching up his sword on the way out.

“Ed, wait!” Stede called, but the door was already snapping shut behind the pirate captain.

Panic coursed through Stede. Anyone could be up there, attacking Blackbeard’s ship. The British. The Spanish. Other pirates. Maybe the French? Stede scrabbled off the bed, tripping painfully over his own feet before he made it to the door. When he threw it open Ed was already gone. There was no one in the short, narrow corridor. Stede walked as quickly as he was able toward the deck, where he could hear orders being barked, and people running about.

“Hey!” came a sharp call from a few doors away. “You fuckin’ twats! Someone come untie me!”

Stede peered around the doorframe, and saw a short, scruffy young man tied to a barrel.

“Hello?” Stede said tentatively.

The man looked up. His eyes went wide in angry surprise, then knocked his forehead down on the edge of the barrel.

“Oh fuck. Not you,” he groaned.

“Who are you?” Stede asked, confused.

“The one who shot you.”
“Oh,” Stede said, unsure what the response to that was supposed to be. “Well, I’m not particularly happy you did that.” A clamor from above them returned Stede to the matter at hand. “So you’re a good fighter?”

The short man snorted. “I know my shit, you ponce.”

“Ah. Good.”

Without another thought, Stede caught up a small hatchet from the opposite corner of the room, and hacked apart the bonds at the man’s wrists and ankles.

“Go protect Ed,” Stede ordered, new steel in his voice.

The short man looked at a loss for a moment, then he sprang to his feet. “Don’t tell me how to serve my captain, bitch,” he snarled, shoving Stede aside and rushing out of the room.

Now Stede had to find another way to be useful, to protect Ed and his crew. Clutching the little hatchet for dear life, he crept up onto the deck.

It was even more vicious than the attack on the first class vessel, since both pirates and their assailants were fighting with all they had. It was the English, Stede could see now. While Stede just stood there, gaping at the carnage and trying to find where Ed was, someone snuck up behind him and seized a fistful of Stede’s hair.

“Got you, filthy fucking pirate,” a voice growled.

“Filthy?” Stede squawked, indignant.

The man stopped shaking him by the hair.

“Baby Bonnet?” the pompous voice came again, sounding earnestly shocked.

Stede craned his head around, feeling hairs parting company with his scalp, and saw a very unwelcome face.

“Ah. Nigel Badminton.”

“Captain Allamby!” Badminton called over the clamor. “I’ve found him, sir!”

“Stede!”

Stede’s heart lurched as he watched Ed break way from his fight (the short man shot Ed’s former opponent in the face as soon as Ed’s back was turned), and lunging toward him.

A gun went off.

There was a spatter of blood.

Ed collapsed to the deck, blood flowing freely from the wound torn through his left leg.

Stede was screaming, far louder and with more anguish than when he’d been shot.

All action on the ship seemed to freeze, until Nigel’s identical twin, Chauncey, stepped forward, reloading his pistol. Just behind him came the British captain, who was a tall, thick set brunette man.

“Are you Stede Bonnet?” the captain asked.

Stede swallowed, throat dry, unable to tear his gaze from Ed, who was trying to rise. Chauncey was nearly done with his pistol, so Stede prayed that he stayed down.

“I am,” he managed, after a long moment.

“How marvelous!” Captain Allamby said, clapping his hands jovially. “We’d given you up for dead, of course, but a promise is a promise, especially when made to family.”

“To family?” Stede asked, confused.

“Yes. Your betrothed, Mary, is my dear cousin. She was quite distraught to hear you’d vanished at sea. Made me promise to go in search of you.”

Oh yeah. Mary Allamby. That was her name. How could she be distraught when they hadn’t met?

“Well, my good man,” Captain Allamby said, clapping Stede on his wounded shoulder, “we’ll see you safely home once we’ve dispatched these loathsome pirates—”

“No!” Stede yelped.

“Pardon?” Captain Albany asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Don’t kill them. This crew saved my life when I was wounded in an…accident.”

“You don’t say?” Captain Allamby said, beginning to look bored.

“He is very easily injured, sir,” Nigel Badminton put in helpfully.

“Very well, I suppose we can pardon them this once. Come along, Bonnet,” Allamby said.

“No,” the noise, though not loud, sounded like it was torn from the depths of Ed’s soul.

Stede felt his heart break.

“If I might say a farewell, since I owe the captain my life?” Stede asked Allamby.

The stuffy captain waved a hand in dismissive acquiesce. He signed for his men to start moving off. Stede saw the identical derisive expressions directed at him from each of the Badminton twins, but he didn’t care. He only had eyes fro Ed, as he fell to his knees before him.

“Don’t go,” Ed pleaded under his breath. “Please, Stede. Not again.”

“I’m sorry,” Stede said, and didn’t think he’d ever meant two words more in his life. “I don’t want to leave. I’ll find a way back to you, I swear it.”

He wanted to seal his vow with a kiss, but he could’t, under all these eyes. So he took Ed’s hand, and pressed it between both of his own. relishing the feel of his ring on Ed’s tattooed, callused hand.

Ed made another pained sound as Stede wrenched himself away. Hopefully everyone else would assume it was for his injured leg, but Stede knew it was because of him.

Stede felt it too, and everything in him echoed Ed’s pain back to him.

Chapter Text

Stede felt smaller on land, somehow. He wouldn’t have said he felt particularly big or powerful at sea, but he’d had Ed at his side, and just like when they were kids that made him feel more secure, more HIMSELF than at any other time in Stede’s life.

Now he was in a rattling carriage with Captain Allamby, and felt as though all the wind had gone out of his sails, trapped and stagnant.

“I’m sure you must be eager to reunite with your dear parents,” Allamby was saying. Stede was not. “But I hope you’ll indulge me in a quick stop to visit cousin Mary.”

Ah. There was that sick feeling he got at school, or when his father summoned him for a talk. That sense of oncoming scorn.

The carriage came to a stop beside a large, stately home. After all “Mary has anchorage,” as Stede’s father had said when he informed Stede he would soon be married. Stede took a fortifying breath, and followed Allamby out onto the walkway.

A giggle of unmistakable delight traveled out to them from the parlor as soon as Allamby swept the door open. Allamby didn’t seem to think this was an unusual thing to hear in the home of a “distraught” young woman, and led Stede toward the sound, with the air of a big game hunter preparing to show off a particularly impressive pelt.

“Dear cousin Mary!” Allamby declared. “Behold what I’ve found for you on my voyage!”

Two women looked up from where they were seated on a chaise longue. One was tall and blond, and wore an eyepatch that matched her dress, and he other was a shorter brunette. Stede had no idea which one was Mary. Then he surmised she must be the brunette, since she’s the one who slowly rose to her feet, looking confused.

“Who’s this, Richard?” she asked, looking from her cousin to Stede and back again.

“Why, Mary, this is your dear fiancé, Stede Bonnet!” Allamby said, in a tone that conveyed he half suspected she was teasing him. “Your love is back from the dead! Now, I wouldn’t leave you besotted youths alone, but I see you already have a chaperone present,” he gave a little bow to the woman who’d remained seated. She waved her cigarette holder at him, acknowledging him and dismissing him in the same gesture. Stede was instantly impressed by her. Scared, certainly. But impressed. “I simply must pay my respects to your father. You two get reacquainted after your bitter separation.” So saying, Allamby swept out of the room.

“He simply refuses to grasp the fact that we’ve never met, doesn’t he?” Stede mused aloud, watching the man go, mostly to avoid looking at the woman in front of him. What was he supposed to say to her?

Fortunately he didn’t have to worry about that much longer.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Mary said firmly, face set when Stede turned back to her, “I want to propose an alliance.”

“Um,” Stede tried. When he failed to say any actual words, he tried again with, “What?”

The blond woman gestured to a chair across from the chaise with her cigarette holder. “Sit.”

Stede obeyed. Even in a billowing gown, this woman looked like she belonged on a horse commanding troops.

“Mr. Bonnet, this is my friend, Mrs. Evelyn Higgins.”

“Oh, you can call me Stede,” Stede said quickly. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Higgins.”

“I hope it will be,” Mrs. Higgins said stonily.

“So, you,” Stede swallowed hard, returning his gaze to Mary, “said something about an alliance?”

“Yes,” Mary said, brushing down the front of her dress, clearly as nervous as Stede was with this initial interaction. But she set her jaw, determined nonetheless. “When you disappeared I overheard my parents talking about another man they would marry me off to, much older than you, who’s already had two wives. They’re both dead. Rather suddenly, with few details given. So I made something of a scene, swore I wouldn’t marry until we learned what happed to you. I thought it would take years, or at least months. I didn’t expect ridiculous cousin Dick to come striding in with you in tow. But now that you’re here I want us to understand each other.”

She paused for a moment. Stede wasn’t sure what to say, so he merely nodded for her to continue. Instead, Evelyn Higgins took over.

“My husband and I set up an agreement on our wedding night, when he was too drunk to perform. After our boy, Melvin, was born my Marcus does his thing, and I do my thing. We share a home, but live different lives. THAT, young man, is wedded bliss.”

“That’s what I’m proposing,” Mary continued. “We get married like our families want, give them an heir to all the property and money, then you and I will be free to live lives on our own terms. And in the meantime, I’m hoping we can be friends.”

“That’s not part of Marcus’ and my arrangement," Evelyn clarified, blowing out a stream of smoke. "We’re more like acquaintances.”

Stede was thinking hard.

“So, I could go to sea? After we had a,” he cleared his throat again, feeling the heat creep into his face, “a child?”

Mary shrugged. “Sure.”

Stede’s face broke into a bright grin. “Miss Allamby, you have an alliance.”

He held out his hand. Mary’s face lit up in a genuine smile of her own.

“You can call me Mary.”

They shook on it, sealing their newfound respect and understanding of each other.

Chapter Text

Edward Teach had never been a particularly patient person.

He was a man of swift action, of brilliant plans. He was not one to linger in the lull, the spaces between bold moves. His thoughts got too loud when it was just him, alone without a fuckery to plan, a ship to raid, a random person to fuck, and whatever else he used to kill time, to drown out everything rattling around inside him.

Ed perched in the crows nest beneath a full moon, turning the ring over and over on his index finger between swigs of rum.

No one had ever silenced the vicious voice inside him like Stede Bonnet. Stede, who was gone. Who had been gone for a year. An agonizing, intolerable year. A year of staving off the grief and fury licking at the sides of his every waking thought, like fire consuming a ship. He gave his all tamping it all down because of ten words:

“I’ll find a way back to you, I swear it.”

That’s what Stede said. And Stede was a gentleman. Gentlemen kept their words, didn’t they?

Stede would come back, wouldn’t he?

‘Of course not,’ came the vicious voice inside his head. A voice darker than his fathers, or even Hornigold’s. The voice of the Kraken.

‘Why would he leave a comfortable life for a creature like you? He’s with his own kind now. No one’s ever chosen you, the REAL you, before. Why should he?’

The real him. The real Ed was someone small and weak, someone always afraid. Always alone.

Ed couldn’t keep going like this.

It would crush him from the inside out, until he curled up in a ball and died.

Death made even the biggest monsters small. Ed knew that from when he looked down on the body of his father, who used to seem like he took up the entirety of the hovel they lived in.

Stede might be gone forever this time, and the real Edward Teach couldn't bear the prospect of all that time alone, forever cast aside, forever unknown.

Ed had borne a lot in the first brutal decades of his life. But he couldn't bear that.

He rose to his feet, letting all the light and hope he’d desperately clung to for an entire year fall from him at the motion.

He did something he hadn’t done for some years now, and stepped out onto the yard of the main mast, holding loosely to the rope, not overly concerned if he fell.

When he was clear of the ship, he launched himself into the air with a vengeful, savage scream of defiance, purging himself of the cloying sense of utter helplessness.

He crashed into the icy waters below, letting the pain engulf him. Finally he was ready to fight his way back to the surface, cutting through the water until he could seize a rope hanging low off the side of the ship.

The Kraken hauled himself from the water, ready to fuck up the world if that’s what it took to smother his pain.

It would be days before he noticed Stede's ruby ring had slipped from his finger, and sank to the fathomless depths.

Chapter Text

Stede couldn’t believe what a strange and wondrous thing time was as he gazed down at his daughter, sound asleep in her little bed. She’d only just turned two. Her short limbs seemed to get longer by the day, clever new expressions were constantly crossing her vibrant, rosy face, and she seemed to master new skills every other moment. Alma Bonnet was utterly remarkable!

Stede wanted to give Alma the whole world, and he hated that the people who governed that world wouldn’t even let her inherit his corner of it. He hated that fact for SO many reasons. For Alma’s sake of course, and for his own, since it kept him from Ed that much longer.

Nearly every night Stede dreamed that he was back at sea, with Ed at his side, smiling and laughing, one of the pirate's strong, warm arms around Stede’s shoulders. He’d dreamed of them tangled together, of tracing the tattoos along Ed’s arms and chest. He wanted the chance to memorize all of Ed’s tattoos.

Stede had never been one of those people who knew he was dreaming, and so he often shed tears of frustration and grief in the mornings, when he woke to find Ed ripped away from him. Again. Over and over again. Stede loved little Alma with his whole heart, and Mary had become the best friend he’d ever had, but he endured every day with the sharp pain of missing Ed, of wondering what he was doing, if he was okay. He bent down to kiss Alma’s forehead, then turned to leave the room. He’d started frequenting taverns most evenings, listening hungrily to any and all the sailors’ tales of pirates. More and more often this past year he’d heard of the fearsome Captain Blackbeard, but Stede could tell they were second or third hand. No one could tell him anything concrete.

Tonight, when Stede sidled into the tavern, he was taken aback by the vast crowd gathered at the table in the center of the room.

“Jeffery,” Stede called out, shuffling over to his old school acquaintance. “What’s all this?”

“A man just washed ashore in a dingy,” Jeffrey said, with his characteristic boyish delight. “He’s the sole survivor of a vicious pirate attack!”

“Which pirate?” Stede asked, taking a sip from the tankard of ale the barkeep slid over to him.

“That new devil everyone’s been buzzing about, Blackbeard.”

Stede’s half a mouthful went down the wrong way, and he coughed and spluttered for several minutes, eyes streaming. He was furious with his body for keeping him from demanding answers for even this short, and at the same time entirely too long, span.

“Blackbeard?” he coughed, when he could form words again.

“Yes! You wouldn’t believe what this poor man’s been through! Apparently Blackbeard’s whole head is wreathed in pitch-black smoke!”

Stede snorted. “That would be a shame. It would obscure quite a view,” he muttered into his tankard.

“What was that?” Jeffrey asked.

“I said that’s incredible. Tell me more.”

“He’s a monster, I tell ye!” the sailor cried from several yards away. Stede could see him now, a scrawny man with sun-browned white skin and scraggly brown hair. He lunged up from the table, obviously very drunk, and deranged with fear. “He’s mad, and he just appears, out of the mist!”

Stede drew in a sharp breath, remembering that particular trick. This sailor really had seen Ed! Stede began to shift closer.

“Black coal streaked across his eyes, as if given the sight by the devil hisself!” the man panted. “Cut off a merchant’s whole hand because Blackbeard said he didn’t like his ring. Threw the hand AND the ring straight into the sea, and it was the biggest damn ruby I ever seen in my whole life.”

Stede didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded like his Ed was having a hard time. He wished he could have been back to sea by now!

When the sailor stumbled closer to him, Stede caught his shoulders, gently but firmly holding him in place.

“Did he look like he was eating enough? Ed- I mean Blackbeard. Did he look like he was getting enough sleep?”

The sailor looked at Stede incredulously, as though Stede was the unsteady one. Then the sailor’s head fell forward and he vomited all over Stede’s shiny shoes. The shudder traveled over Stede’s whole body.

“He looked,” the sailor croaked, spitting out some bile, “like a monster from the pits of Hell. His eyes,” the man’s face twists in horror at the memory, “are empty.”

“No,” was all Stede could think to say as the sailor stumbled away from him. “No they’re not.”

Stede walked home in a daze. He kicked his soiled shoes off at the front door and just left them there, completely forgetting them the moment the door was closed.

When Mary came down stairs early the next morning, she found Stede in the parlor, sitting on the loveseat, sleepless and still in yesterday's clothes, with his head in his hands.

“Stede?” she said, instantly concerned. She sank down next to him and gently began rubbing his back with her beautiful artist’s hands, always flecked with her colorful paints. “What’s wrong?”

He leaned over and rested his head on Mary’s shoulder. He did love her. Mary Bonnet was an exceptional mother, and a wonderful friend, a brilliant, strong, creative woman. He would miss her.

“I have to leave,” he said softly, but with intent. “I think Ed’s in trouble.”

He’d told her all about Ed, of course. About meeting him when they were boys, and their reunion, and how the main reason he wanted to go to sea was to find him again. He felt Mary nod slowly as she continued to rub his back.

Mary cleared her throat. “The timing certainly works out well.” If Stede didn’t know any better he’d think she sounded nervous.

Stede straightened up so he could look at her. “Why’s that?”

Her cheeks pinked, but she looked him in the eye when she said, “I’m pregnant.”

Stede’s eyes widened. “Oh!” he said. “Um. How?”

He and Mary hadn’t been physically intimate since Alma was conceived, nearly a month after their wedding. And he wasn’t sure how he would have managed those few times if he and Mary hadn’t had their alliance, hadn’t communicated so well. How did anyone do…that with people who were virtually strangers, with people who didn’t understand them? Stede couldn’t comprehend it.

Mary’s blush deepened. “So, you remember my friend Doug?”

“Certainly!” Stede said brightly. They’d had Doug over for dinner a few times. He was wonderful, and he made Mary’s eyes shine.

“We’ve always been REALLY careful,” Mary said quickly. “But about two months ago we got a quite…caught up in it. So here we are.”

She gave a little shrug and a sheepish smile.

Stede’s face lit up. “That’s perfect!” Doug actually looked a bit like Stede, in Stede's opinion. They were both blonde, at least. If Doug and Mary had a son, he could almost certainly pass as Stede's, and inherit the property!

He threw his arms around Mary, and she let out a little relieved laugh as she squeezed him back fondly.

“I’m going to miss you,” she sighed.

“I’m going to miss you too. I’ll write to you and Alma all the time.”

When they broke apart a mischievous grin spread over Mary’s face. “I have a surprise for you.”

She had him sit at the dining table and cover his eyes.

“Okay, now!” she burst out after several silent minutes. Stede let his hands fall from his face.

A beautiful model ship was in front of him.

“Mary!” he gasped, rising from his chair. “It’s gorgeous!”

“I thought it would be nice for Alma to have a model of the ship her father’s sailing on.”

Stede tore his eyes from the intricate tiny rigging, to look at Mary with awe and disbelief. She nodded, beaming.

“I had it built for you!” She pulled a sheet of parchment from behind the model. “Here’s a list of how to get into all the secret passages.”

Stede, being Stede, burst into tears of joy, and excitement, and grief. Besides the perks that he had to acknowledge came with money and status, he wasn’t overly grateful for anything his parents had given him, but Stede couldn’t imagine a woman he’d rather be married to than Mary. So his father got that match right, at least.

Besides Ed, Stede had never been able to be half so honest with anyone else. And Mary had just given him exactly what he wanted most in the world: a way to get back to Edward Teach!

Chapter Text

The wind and waves were tearing at Blackbeard’s ship, had been for hours. The crew had tied everything down, and they were below now. Ed, however, had somehow wound up flat on his back on the deck, getting pelted by rain and spray from the waves washing over the sides of the shop. How long had he been here? What had he been doing before this? The answer was partly forthcoming when an empty rum bottle rattled across the sodden deck and bumped into Ed’s thigh before skittering off somewhere else. He waved a feeble farewell in its general direction.

A pair of frilly shoes (Ed hadn’t known shoes could be frilly until he started raiding more high-class ships, and was awed by the unconscionable frivolity) appeared in Ed’s peripheral vision.

“Fuuuuck,” he growled, loud and long at the seething sky. “Don’t do this to me again God, you sadistic bitch.”

He threw his arm over his eyes so he couldn’t see the lie.

He’d started drinking heavily yesterday, keeping it up specifically so this WOULDN’T happen. Ed was supposed to pass out and wake up hours or days from now after blissful (or as blissful as anything could be anymore) oblivion.

God hated Ed even more than he thought, because closing his eyes did nothing. He felt a gentle hand in his sodden hair. He saw a few gray strands when he was running a hand through it the other day. Wasn’t he too young for gray hairs? He started to laugh, as much to drown out the soft voice as from the realization that he may well not bee too young. He wouldn’t rightly know either way, would he?

“Hello, Ed.” The voice was like the beam of a lighthouse, if such a thing could be transposed into sound, cutting through the violent storm. Ed shook his head, refusing to uncover his eyes as the phantom hand began stroking his hair.

“No,” Ed choked.

“No what?” the lighthouse voice soothed.

“You’re not here,” Ed spat.

“But you want me here.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It never has.”

“Ed,” the voice crooned. “Look at me, please.”

And Ed could refuse Stede Bonnet nothing, even a Stede he knew to be a lie, conjured by Ed’s own desperate loneliness. He tore his arm away, let it slap against the water and wood beneath him. He glared accusingly at the figure, all pristine and golden in a soft blue coat, untouched by the storm billowing around him.

Ed’s lighthouse, with that warm smile that made Ed’s heart flutter. He regretted opening his eyes immediately, because now he couldn’t look away. He gazed and gazed, until tears joined the rain and sea spray on his face.

“You really think I’d leave you all alone?” Not-Stede said fondly. “On your birthday of all days?”

“It’s YOUR birthday."

Not-Stede shrugged, as if it was completely a given that whatever was his was Ed’s as well.

“You’re probably eating fancy cakes and drinking out of a crystal glass somewhere.” He meant it to sound scathing, but it was laced with longing, with hope that the real Stede was surrounded by good things. All the best things.

“But I’m here too,” Not-Stede said, dropping his hand from Ed’s hair to tap at Ed’s chest with his index and middle fingers. Directly over his heart. “Always here.”

Ed knew that all too well. It was why he could never quite recover, try as he might to bury everything he’d been before, or at least everything he hoped he would be once he saw Stede again on that vessel years ago.

“Don’t come back, Stede,” Ed sighed, ripping his gaze away, fixing it instead on the churning, ruthless sky. “You won’t like what you find.”

Chapter Text

Finding a crew was a bit harder than Stede originally anticipated.

He went to all the taverns to see which sailors were looking for work. Most seemed keen on the job while talking salary, but eventually they all wanted to know where they would be going.

“I fancy a sojourn to the Republic of Pirates!” Stede said excitedly, which is where he lost them.

Ed had told Stede about the Republic of Pirates, and it seemed like the best place to get more accurate news on Ed’s whereabouts. He just needed to find a few people who knew how to get him there on the beautiful ship Mary had built for him.

He found his first crew member quite unexpectedly. The day after his birthday, Stede was sulkily walking home after being told yet again, and in rather colorful language, that no sailor who valued his life and liberty would go anywhere near the Republic of Pirates. Then a spindly white man in a denim jacket and loosely woven straw hat perched on his stringy, shoulder-length blond hair stepped out of an ally and fixed Stede with a piercing, pale-eyed stare. Stede froze and stared back, unable to think what else to do. The eerie silence was broken by a shrill PEEEEEP!

With his eyes still fixed on Stede, the ragged stranger removed his floppy hat to reveal a scraggly baby seagull, which he gently removed from atop his thinning hair. He only dropped his gaze when he ducked his head and slowly expelled some brown mush from his own mouth directly into the straining, open beak of the tiny gull.

Stede gaped. He had no earthly idea what the response to seeing a grown man feeding a baby bird was supposed to be. Was there a response? Stede considered opening his mouth, then felt a lurch in his stomach dangerously close to nausea, and left it closed.

Once his mouth was seemingly empty, the stranger held up the satiated bird.

“This is Karl,” he said in a deep, slow voice, as if introducing Stede to someone of great importance. He returned the bird to his head, followed by his hat with equal solemnity. “You can call me Buttons, Cap’m.”

“Captain?” Stede asked, still utterly confused.

He felt awake, but had he somehow drifted off, and was now having an unusually vivid dream? That felt more plausible than any of this actually taking place.

“Aye,” the man said. “Heard you was headin’ to the Republic of Pirates. Wanted te’ join yer crew. Last crew I was on t'wasn’t a good ‘vironment for lil’ Karl ta grow up on. Bu’ ye seem like a soft person. So here we are, Cap’m.”

“Right,” Stede said slowly.

“When d’ we set off?”

“Well, you’re my first recruit,” Stede admitted. “I think we’ll need a few more people before we can depart.”

Buttons’ face went blank. Stede later learned this meant he was thinking hard.

“I can find ye some more men, Cap’m,” Buttons finally announced.

“That would be wonderful!” Stede said, brightening considerably. “Thank you, Mr. Buttons!”

Stede held out a hand, and he and Buttons shook. Stede fought very hard not to shudder when he realized Buttons’ hand was flecked with more than a few bird droppings. Still, he reminded himself as he thoroughly scrubbed his hands once he was back at home, it was a beginning! He was one person closer to setting off!

A week later, Buttons appeared outside Stede’s home with eight other men in tow.

“Cap’m, this is Bean, Leif, Milo, Silas, Pebble, Roach, Dave, an' Wee John.”

In the weeks that followed Stede got to know his crew fairly well as they kept his ship afloat. Bean was a Black man with a bright smile and the most contagious laugh. His favorite place in the world was the crows nest, and he was completely at home up amongst the rigging. Leif was a broad, short white man with a scowl and thick Norse accent. He was a genius with anything carpentry-related. Milo was a Black man from Italy, and the best cartographer Stede would ever meet. Silas had copper brown skin and jet black hair. Stede thought he was almost unnaturally beautiful, like gods and demi-gods were described in old stories. When Stede saw Silas’ hair caught in the sea wind it always reminded him of Ed’s hair, and his heart ached with longing that much more fiercely. Pebble and Roach were cousins, two willowy young Black men with clever glints in their eyes, and a seemingly endless array of herbs in their pockets, which they extracted, rolled in paper, and smoked whenever the mood struck them. Dave was a withered white man, the oldest person in the company, and Stede never managed to learn much about him except that he had a LOT of guns, and gunpowder, and shot. Wee John, who was easily the tallest man Stede had ever met. He was white with a head of flaxen hair and an Irish accent, and he followed Dave around like a puppy, learning the best way to make the biggest fires, and the biggest explosions from everyday materials. Stede was a bit unnerved by this, but wanted to give the members of his crew the freedom to explore their passions.

But now, all Stede Bonnet knew was that he had his crew!

They all settled onto the ship while Stede had an informal farewell dinner with Mary, little Alma, Doug, and even Mrs. Higgins. After the meal and dessert, Stede caught Alma up in his arms and gave her a long hug.

“I love you,” he told her, something he’d never heard from his own father. “I’ll be thinking about you every day. Be good for your mother, and new sibling when they arrive, and Doug, and Aunt Evelyn.”

Mary came over and wrapped her arms around both her husband and daughter. For once, Alma didn’t squirm to get down, but rested her head against Stede’s chest, as if intuiting something was different about this moment that all the other moments that had made up her short life thus far.

“You take care of yourself,” Mary said, in the firm tone she used when she was trying not to cry. “There are a LOT of strange things in the ocean.”

“I'll be careful,” Stede promised her.

Doug pulled Stede into a warm hug when Stede tried to shake his hand, and Mrs. Higgins refused a handshake, but gave Stede a nod of acknowledgement. Then, with one last hug for Alma and Mary, Stede set out into the night to board his ship.

“Cap’m on deck!” Buttons’ voice rang out as Stede neared the top of the gang plank.

As much as Stede’s heart ached after bidding farewell to two of the people he loved most in the world, it now swelled to hear those words. Deep in his soul, he felt like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear them. To be a captain, to take to the vast, daunting, magnificent sea.

Stede was so excited he could barely sleep after settling into his cabin. His eyes misted over yet again at the sight of the fully stocked bookshelves lining the walls, and the secret wardrobe. Mary knew him so well.

When the sky finally began to pink with dawn, and the crew was bustling about preparing to set sail, Stede launched himself out of bed, dressed as swiftly (but neatly) as he could, and rushed for bow of the ship.

A huge grin spread across Stede’s face as his ship moved toward the horizon.

“I’m on my way, Ed,” he told the man he loved, though the conduits of the sea and sky, with all the promise of joy and terror they held.

Chapter Text

It took several weeks to reach the Republic of Pirates, even with the winds on their side.

Throughout the first week it was often difficult for Stede to tell if he was sea sick, or had an anxious tummy at the prospect of re-entering Ed’s world, of seeing him again at long last.

When not sitting on his couch with his head between his knees, a bucket within easy reach, Stede was at his desk. He wrote a letter to Mary and Alma after being at sea for all of twenty-four hours, but the rest of the time he spent writing out potential scenarios for how his reunion with Ed might go, both to calm his nerves and to convince himself that this was a reality. Ed was out there somewhere, and Stede was going to find him if he had to scour ever inch of the oceans twice over.

‘Our ships drew nearer to each other, but the storm was too vicious for us to find a way to secure them together,’ Stede wrote, with his minimal understanding of how ships worked. ‘In a moment of valiant, reckless courage, I seized a rope and swung myself over to Blackbeard’s vessel. But the wood of the deck was too slippery for my feet to gain purchase, and I was nearly hurled back out over the dark, turbulent sea, when Ed appeared and caught me in his strong arms. He held me close, and I clung to him, knowing I was safe at last, despite the rain that still lashed our faces, and the winds that tugged at our sodden hair and clothing.
‘“Stede,” he said, with fondness and joy at having me back with him. Our faces drew closer and closer together as the seemingly endless years of longing culminated in a sweet—’

A large blot burst across the page at the abrupt knock at Stede’s cabin door. He slammed the journal shut as he squeaked, “Yes? Come in!”

Buttons swung the door open. “Cap’m, we’re approachin’ the Republic of Pirates. We should be docked in about an hour.” He wasn’t currently wearing his woven hat, and little Karl flapped his baby-bird wings as if to signify the enormity of this announcement.

Stede’s heart leapt with joy, while his stomach plummeted with nerves. A peculiar and not altogether pleasant sensation.

“Right. I’ll have to pick out just the right outfit,” Stede said, hoping he sounded like he had more bravado than he felt. “Vital to make a good first impression.”

“Aye, Cap’m,” Buttons said, promptly departing.

Stede had already gone over everything in his wardrobe, and his hidden auxiliary wardrobe, at least thrice daily, and had narrowed it down to four different outfits he would feel most comfortable meeting Ed’s peers in.

But what if Ed himself was there?? Should Stede wear his best outfit on the chance of a reunion, or save it until he knew for sure he was heading in the right direction? Granted, he had several favorite ensembles, but which one would hit just the right tone for the Republic of Pirates?? He didn’t want to be overdressed, but he CERTAINLY didn’t want to be underdressed…

The crew was tying up the ship in the dock when Stede finally settled on his suit of white clothes, deciding it was appropriately eye-catching. He carefully drew on each layer, feeling more than a little sheepish when he realized that his wedding suit hadn’t been nearly this ornate. As weak-kneed as he felt on that day, his steps down the gangplank into the pungent smells and raucous sounds of the Republic of Pirates, felt infinitely more austere.

“Now, Mr. Dave,” Stede said, squaring his shoulders. He would have liked to bring Buttons, but he’d demurred, reminding Stede that Karl was due for another feeding, and Buttons was nothing if not rigorous in keeping to his charge’s strict regimen. “Where would someone go to ask about a certain pirate's whereabouts?”

Dave grunted, and headed off through the throngs of brawling, bleeding, vomiting individuals with a purposeful stride. Stede stayed close on his heels.

They came to an establishment that looked the same degree of run-down as its neighbors. Dave gave another grunt, and nodded to the door.

“Much obliged,” Stede said, and strode in.

It was crowded, but there were fewer fights than in the street, and while there was a sharp tang in the air, it was less offensive than the smell of rot permeating the outdoors.

“Excuse me, barkeep!” Stede crowed as he sidled toward the bar, only to stop short when a kid who looked about eleven turned in answer to his call. The child had a pale white face spotted with angry red pimples, a scowl on his thin lips.

“Wha’?” the kid snapped.

“I’d like to speak with whomever’s in charge. I’m seeking information on a friend of mine.”

The kid continued to scowl, spat on the floor behind the counter, then called out, “Oy, Jackie, there’s a poncy cunt here to see ya!”

“I say!” Stede began, more than a little shocked at the child’s language, only to be distracted by the person who answered the crude summons.

Jackie turned out to be another child: a Black girl who couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen, wearing an oversized red coat. The sleeves were rolled up far enough to allow her the use of her hands, one of which was ornately carved out of wood. The wooden fingers held a smoking cigar, which she took a drag from and blew the acrid smoke in Stede’s face, making his eyes water.

“What do you want?” Jackie demanded in a strong voice that made it very clear that she did not suffer time wasters.

“Hello,” Stede said, striving to recollect his words. “I’m looking for Captain Blackbeard. One of my crew mates indicated that you knew where I could begin my search for him.”

Jackie blew out another stream of smoke.

Stede coughed.

“Blackbeard’s crazy. Even by my standards,” Jackie mused. “That makes you double crazy, goin’ after the likes of him.” A broad smile stretched across her young, handsome face. “I always love seeing what happens to the doubly crazy ones.” Jackie extinguished her cigar against the side of the bar. “Alright, fancy man, I think I can share some information that will get you where you need to go.”

Chapter Text

Izzy was talking.

He’d been talking for awhile now but for the life of him, Blackbeard couldn’t remember what Izzy had said, or how it pertained to whatever he was currently irritated about.

Blackbeard had found it increasingly hard to focus since last week, when his crew, drunk on excellent rum and an extraordinarily successful raid, started chanting, “Blackbeard the Indestructible!” and “Blackbeard never fails!”

Blackbeard had frozen, tankard halfway to his lips. Beside him Izzy had looked uncharacteristically happy, and had been doubling down on Blackbeard’s image since then.

Indestructible.

Never fails.

In other words, Blackbeard was no longer human. No longer a man with feelings and failings of his own. The weight of that felt like it might crush him.

‘But that’s what you wanted,’ the Kraken hissed inside his head now, as Izzy finished his monologue and left Blackbeard’s cabin. ‘This is exactly why you called me forth, when you were pathetic and alone. You summoned me from the fathomless depths of your pain to shield you from the agony of being human. No matter how often your foolish heart calls up images of Bonnet, I'M the one you need in order to survive. After all, you don’t have the luxury of being as soft as other men. You’re just not that kind of person,’ the Kraken echoed his mother’s voice now, which was so much worse. ‘And you never will be.’

The long, beautifully carved stem of his pipe snapped in Blackbeard's hands. He threw the pieces against the wall, ash and tobacco scattering across the floor.

“Captain?” Frenchie called, knocking frantically at the cabin door.

“What?” Blackbeared growled.

“There’s a ship approaching. Izzy wants to blow it to bits, but I said we should ask you first.”

Even after his years on Blackbeard’s crew, Frenchie never developed the annoyed distain for the first mate that most of the pirates possessed. Even when he was shouting orders or making threats, Izzy never seemed to bother Frenchie half as much as the fleeting sight of a cat when they were docked somewhere.

Blackbeard peeled himself out of his chair, emerging from his cabin in only his trousers and knee brace.

“I’ll come look at it,” he sighed heavily.

“A ship drawing near, a fancy ship just over the horizon,” Frenchie sang cheerily, pulling his mandolin into his hands from where it hung across his back, and plucking some experimental chords.

“I told the boy it wasn’t worth troubling you,” Izzy snarled when Blackbeard and Frenchie emerged on deck.

Blackbeard shrugged and looked through his spyglass. The first thing he noticed was that the ship’s figurehead was a unicorn. It wasn’t exactly unheard of, but it struck him as rather whimsical. The choice of a person who appreciated beautiful things. The wooden beast had clearly been designed and carved with an artist’s eye. The whole ship had a certain flair that Ed couldn’t help but feel drawn toward.

“Wait,” Blackbeard said, seizing Izzy’s wrist when he moved to signal the cannons. “I’m going to head over with a small company and raid it.”

“You don’t want to do that this late,” Izzy hissed. “Too many variables on a ship completely unknown to us. Besides, we’re still bursting with supplied from the last raid.”

“You’ll keep an eye on things while I’m gone,” Blackbeard said, not having taken in a word Izzy just said. “Frenchie, start prepping a boat. I’ll grab Ivan and Fang, maybe a few others.”

Izzy turned on his heel and released a string of pointed profanity. After Ed pulled on a shirt, jacket, and his weapons, he and six other men climbed into a dingy and made their way over to the fancy ship. Blackbeard’s mind wandered aimlessly, until Frenchie cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Um, Captain? I believe that man up there is naked. And he’s staring right at us.”

Blackbeard looked up, and sure enough, a spindly white man is standing at the prow, pale skin alight un the glow of a full moon. Was this some sort of asylum ship for madmen? Why hadn’t he raised an alarm?

“Are ye’ real?” he hollered, now that he had their attention. “Or some sea-tossed ghosts?”

“We’re alive, mate,” Blackbeard answered back. He sensed rather than heard Ivan start to raise his pistol and aim it at the naked man. Blackbeard grabbed the barrel and shook his head minutely.

“Don’t ye’ wake Karl,” the naked man said, with all the solemnity of a royal decree, then raised his arms and went back to gazing up at the moon. Blackbeard gestured to Ivan and Fang to keep rowing, and they steered the dingy to the stern of the ship, when they swiftly and silently climbed aboard.

Blackbeard peered about, looking and listening for any sign of approach, but all remained still.

Fang was creeping up on the naked man, ready to club him over the head, when a very scruffy baby seagull raised its ugly head over the rim of a barrel and gave a shrill cry.

The man whirled around. “I told ye not to wake him!” the man chided, boxing Ivan’s ears as if he were a disobedient child.

“Ow!” Fang yelped. “That really hurt!”

Roused by the commotion, an ENORMOUS man burst through the door leading up from below decks and raised the alarm with a bellowing cry. He rushed forward and seized Frenchie by the front of his shirt. Frenchie did nothing in his own defense, merely gazed up at him, seemingly awed.

“Oh wow,” Frenchie gasped. “Hi!”

The giant’s brow furrowed in confusion, then he decided to shove Frenchie aside and lunged at Ivan instead.

All hell broke loose at this point.

Crew members emerged from below decks armed with everything from cutlasses to ladles. The naked man was waving a broken plank of wood at Fang, keeping himself protectively between Blackbeard’s crew and the baby seagull.

Blackbeard was engaged in combat with a wild-eyed Black man who rushed him with a meat cleaver. Blackbeard knocked the large knife out of his hand after less than a minute, and was about to swoop in for a killing blow when his apparition chose that moment to make an appearance. It hadn’t manifested during a raid before, and certainly never worn a bright yellow dressing gown. This is the cruelest Ed’s mind had ever been, because apparition-Stede looked absolutely ADORABLE, all flush faced, his golden hair sleep-mussed.

“What’s going on up here?” apparition-Stede squeaked.

“Not now, Stede,” Blackbeard sighed, knowing he was speaking aloud to a figment of his imagination in the midst of battle, but whatever. People thought he was insane anyway.

In his distraction, the meat cleaver guy kicked Blackbeard’s shin and darted away.

“Ed?”

It was said in a breath, with awe and an inhalation of disbelief that gave Blackbeard pause. Why would he sound like that? Stede’s apparitions always knew he was there. They never sounded surprised about it.

Blackbeard turned his full attention on apparition-Stede, and met the same crystalline blue gaze he first encountered all those years ago, as a boy of twelve. Now, as then, it struck true, straight to his heart.

Blackbeard opened his mouth, a choked attempt at a sound that was very nearly “Stede,” before all the air fled his lungs. His vision blurred, and Blackbeard collapsed to the deck in a dead faint.

Chapter Text

When Ed was six or seven he fell ill with a bad fever that left him weak and shivering for days. His mother wrapped him in blankets, spent their meager savings on nourishing food she used to make a broth for him when his father wasn’t around to object. Yet what Ed remembered most from those hazy days was his mother stroking his face with a cool, damp cloth. Despite the severity of the illness, it was the safest Ed could remember feeling, before or since. It was the image that rose to his mind on the rare occasions when he let himself dwell on the word ‘home.’

As Ed slowly drifted back toward consciousness the past and the present blurred for a wild moment. He became aware that he was swathed in warm blankets, and that a soft, damp cloth, far softer than any his mother once had on hand, was gently caressing his brow and cheeks. His forehead creased as he tried to make sense of where he was in the confusion of time and space.

“Ed?” came a familiar, tender voice.

Ed’s eyes fluttered open, and there he was: all golden and pale and perfect.

Stede Bonnet.

The real Stede Bonnet, not an apparition concocted by his broken, lonely mind.

He’d found Ed, just like he’d promised he would. All the while Ed had doubted him. Had given himself up to the Kraken.

Seeing Stede’s face break into a warm smile when their eyes met, Ed’s own face crumpled and tears flowed from his eyes without warning. Stede’s face fell. He gently, SO gently, wiped at the onslaught of tears with the soft cloth.

“Oh Ed. What’s wrong?”

“I lost it,” Ed choked in a small voice, turning away from Stede (in what he now saw was probably Stede’s own bed in the captain’s cabin, built within a wide bay window overlooking the sea).

“Lost what?” Stede coaxed, reaching out he gave Ed’s shoulder a firm but gentle squeeze. He wasn’t trying to turn Ed back to him, but letting him know he was there, that he was listening.

Ed raised his hand and waved it around in demonstration, like a white flag of surrender. “The ring you gave me.”

Now Stede would know how careless and unworthy Ed was!

“Oh,” Stede said, and to Ed’s astonishment he started to laugh.

“No need to fret, Ed. I had another one made for you.”

Stede went to his desk and drew a small box out of one of the drawers. He brought it back to sit on the side of the bed and held it out to Ed.

Ed gazed at the shinny little box with its gold clasp with longing, then let his eyes shut and shook his head.

“I don’t deserve that, Stede.”

Stede’s brow furrowed, as if he couldn't comprehend Ed being unworthy of anything. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve done terrible things since you’ve been away. I’m the Kraken. I’m not the kind of person who should be given beautiful things.” He opened his eyes again, but gazed out at the full moon through the window rather than turn to look at Stede’s face.

Stede seemed at a loss for a moment, turning the box over and over in his hands, restless. Then his face brightened with an idea.

“Would you close your eyes again?”

“Why?” Ed asked, peering over his shoulder at Stede suspiciously.

“Because you trust me?” Stede said, with such a sweet little smile that Ed felt his heart melt a little. He expelled a breath and closed his eyes.

After a pause, Stede said, “I’m going to take your hand, alright?”

Ed merely nodded. It’s not like he could start denying Stede now, right?

He expected Stede to slide a ring on his finger, but instead Stede wrapped his hand around Ed’s and placed an object in his palm.

“Now open your eyes and look inside the band.”

Ed obeyed, and felt his heart melt all over again. It was CLEARLY unsafe to be in Stede’s presence too long. Much more of this and he wouldn’t have any more solid matter left in his body.

The ruby in the last ring Stede gave him was fine quality, but this was a Pigeon’s Blood, impossibly rare and beautiful, unmistakable by its purple-red hue. Stede could have several more ships for what he must have spent on this remarkable stone! It was inlaid in a thick gold band, and Ed peered inside and saw a string of elegant, flowing script, which of course he couldn’t read.

“What’s it say?”

“‘The first thing you’d hear would be the ocean,’” Stede answered reverently, as if quoting some sacred text.

Ed looked at him, face twisted in confusion. “Why?”

“It was one of the first things you ever said to me. It was the moment when I, um,” Stede cleared his throat nervously, his face growing redder by the second, “when I began to fall in love with you.”

Ed’s lungs must have melted along with his heart, because as soon as the words slid from his ears to his brain he lost the ability to breath. Or to do anything more than gape like a fish.

“You don’t have to feel the same way!” Stede said quickly, face growing panicked. “I figured it out while I was away, and I just needed you to know. Mary helped me. She’s very good at explaining things, and hearing her talk about her love, his name’s Doug and he’s quite wonderful, I realized I felt the same way about you, and that the seeds of that love were planted back when we were kids. But I won’t bother you with it if you don’t love me back. I’d be happy with being your friend, or being on your crew. Whatever you want, Ed.”

Ed’s heart had resolidified, and was sending blood careening through his body and double speed to make up for lost time. His head was spinning. Ed couldn’t begin to process this! Was he dreaming? Or hallucinating? Or dead?

Stede was wringing his now empty hands.

“I’m sorry. I startled you while you’re still recovering. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll leave you to rest, and—”

Stede got to his feet still talking, and made his way toward the door.

Without a single conscious thought, Ed sprung out of bed and tackled Stede, gripped with the bone-deep terror that if Stede left this room now he would never come back, that he’d truly be lost to Ed forever this time. The momentum sent Stede and Ed crashing to the floor, Stede on his front, Ed half on top of him. Ed hastily rose up on his elbows, and Stede rolled onto his back, catching Ed’s sleeve before he could move further away. The hand not clutching Ed’s sleeve for dear life drifted upward and cupped Ed’s face.

“Are you alright?” he asked breathlessly, as if Ed wasn’t the one who’d just knocked HIM down.

Still utterly unable to speak, Ed seized Stede’s wrist and turned his face into his palm, pressing a heated kiss to the soft skin there, letting his eyes close. When he could bear to open them and look at Stede again, it was to see the gentleman’s pupils had blown wide, his lips parted, breath caught in his throat.

“Ed,” he gasped.

Ed released Stede’s wrist only to seize his face and kiss him hard, with all the pent up longing of the absent years. Stede moaned against Ed’s lips, and retuned the kiss with equal vigor.

They clung to each other more desperately than they would the last piece of driftwood in a storm-tossed sea, hands frantically bunching up fabric. Ed suddenly cursed the fact that he’d chosen an aesthetic that involved so many fucking buckles and snug leather!

Stede was only clad in his nightshirt and dressing gown, and shucked both off in an instant. Meanwhile, Ed was still struggling with the clasp in his fingerless gloves!

A salacious grin spread across Stede’s face as he put a hand on Ed’s chest and pushed him up until he’d shifted their positions, leaving Ed strewn willingly on the floor, on top of Stede’s silk robe, while Stede loomed over him on his knees, and Ed’s heart fluttered at getting to finally behold all of Stede. He was as beautiful as Ed knew he would be. The eagle Ed had carved for Stede’s twenty-first birthday still hung over Stede’s heart. At this point, if Ed were dreaming or dead he didn’t want anyone to revive him.

This was how Edward Teach wanted to spend eternity.

“Let me,” Stede said, drawing up Ed’s arm and unfastening first one glove, then the other. Drawn to Stede’s skin like magnetic north, Ed touched Stede’s bare thighs with reverence. That moment of contact broke the dam that had been holding back Ed’s words since Stede’s world-altering confession.

“I love you,” Ed said in a choked sob, though his eyes were mercifully free of tears this time.

Stede’s hands froze on the buckles of Ed’s jacket.

“I love you, Stede. I missed you.”

All these words felt FAR too small for all Ed was tryin to convey, for all words like “love,” and “missed,” and “Stede" had put him through since Ed first began to grasp what they meant.

Stede’s face broke into a grin that would put the rising sun to shame with its brightness, and leaned forward to claim Ed’s lips in another kiss, burying his hands in Ed’s long hair, while Ed lurched upward off the floor and let his hands have the privilege of running up and down Stede’s bare back.

Stede purred into Ed’s mouth when Ed yielded to temptation and clasped Stede’s perfect round ass. A voice at the back of Ed’s mind insisted that he was doing this wrong. Stede was a gentleman, for fuck's sake! He should be taken slowly, reverently, on a feather bed, not groped roughly on the floor.

Stede broke the kiss suddenly, flushed and panting. “Keep taking your clothes off. I’ll be right back.” With that, he jumped up and lunged for one of the bookshelves, where he yanked on what looked like a tiny mannequin wearing a tiny coat. The wall opened up, and Stede darted inside, emerging moments later with a bottle in hand.

“You would NOT believe how much oil Mary packed for us when she helped me load my things on the ship. I’d be embarrassing if I weren’t so unutterably thankful in this moment for her foresight.”

Ed, meanwhile, had torn off his jacket and shirt, and was striving to free himself from the confines of his trousers, which were not being made any more comfortable by the the sight of Stede’s cock, hard and jutting up against his stomach.

“What sorts of things do you like?” Stede asked, flushing a truly impossible shade of red as he dropped his eyes to the floor. “I don’t have any practical experience with anyone but Mary, but I’ve done a considerable amount of research since I saw you last, and I think I’m up for trying almost all of it.”

Ed was temporarily lost for words again at the images that flooded his mind at what Stede meant by “research.” Ed swallowed hard and forced his brain to string words together.

“What, um, what appealed to you most?” Ed asked, the fastenings of his trousers FINALLY relinquishing their death-grip on him, and he peeled them off. “What were you most excited to try?”

Now it was Stede who couldn’t seem to manage words as he just stared. Ed tried not to feel self-conscious. He was longer than Stede by an inch or so, but Stede’s was thicker, a proper handful. Ed’s hands itched to touch Stede, anywhere and everywhere, but he held himself back. Perhaps Stede was disappointed. After all, Ed was a mess of scars and tattoos. What if he didn’t live up to the picture Stede had of him? What if—

“Wow,” Stede breathed. His face was the picture of awe.

Ed got to his feet and walked the few steps to Stede, kissing him gently this time.

Ed had kissed people before, sure he had. Once or twice. But he’d never gotten to kiss the same person anywhere near this much. If it happened at all it hadn’t been a key part of his past sexual interactions. But with Stede it was a gift in and of itself. To be able to just reach out and kiss him! How was Ed, Blackbeard, the Kraken, whoever the fuck he was, allowed to have THIS?

“What do you want, Stede?” Ed asked, not even bothering to back away, just speaking the words against Stede’s lips. “Tell me what I can do for you. I’ll do anything. I want to give you everything.”

Stede pressed himself against Ed, who thought he might lose consciousness again feeling all of Stede against him.

“Take me to bed and make love to me,” Stede breathed.

Chapter Text

As Stede took Ed’s hand and led him back toward the bed, he thought his heart was going to fucking burst. It was thrumming in his chest like a racehorse, overrun with excitement and nerves. Well, if these were his final moments before his heart gave out, at least he had a spectacular view, he thought giddily, as Ed drew him close and kissed him like Stede was someone wonderful. Someone worth cherishing.

Years ago, when Stede was a younger man, not yet a husband and a father, who hadn’t yet strode aboard a ship of his own, before he had even begun to wrap his mind around the monumental scope of love, the love that he knew now had already started blooming in his heart for Ed, that Stede, in the last days of his twentieth year, could never have imagined this moment. Younger Stede couldn’t comprehend the reality of sliding back on the mattress, of the warm weight of Ed’s body over his own, the heady jubilation traveling along his skin from every point their naked bodies touched.

Ed was now kissing down Stede’s throat, his strong hands buried in Stede’s hair, when he started to giggle against Stede’s skin, and Ed dropped his head to rest his brow on Stede’s shoulder while he continued to laugh.

“What is it?” Stede asked, unable to keep himself from grinning at the sound of Ed’s amusement, even as his anxiety spiked at the thought that he’d done something wrong, that Ed had realized how ridiculous it was that he was with someone like Stede.

His fears evaporated just as quickly when Ed raised his head and looked at Stede, his face shining with unmistakable joy.

“I’ve never been with anyone as clean as you,” Ed chuckled. “You taste like lavender, not dirt, and sweat, and sea salt. How did I get so,” he leaned in and kissed Stede’s lips, “damn,” another kiss, “lucky?”

Stede’s heart lurched, and his eyes misted with grateful tears.

“I assure you, I am the damn lucky one,” Stede said fervently, twinning his fingers in Ed’s long, thick hair, drawing him back in for a longer, deeper kiss.

Two pairs of hands returned to their caresses, stroking and thrilling each other.

Stede spread his legs wider, Ed slotted between them, when Ed’s hand vanished from his body in order to catch up the oil Stede had retrieved from his hidden closet. He gave Ed what he hoped was a sultry smile, but it turned into a wide-eyed look of shock when Ed’s well-oiled fingers traveled not to Stede’s backside, but his own.

“Oh!” Stede gasped. “You don’t have to— I mean, I assumed you’d want to— Are you sure this is what you want?”

Ed’s fingers moved within himself, causing him to sound a bit breathless when he replied, “This is most definitely what I want, Stede Bonnet.”

Convinced, Stede took the bottle Ed handed him so readily he splashed oil across his sheets, before finally getting enough on his palm to slick up his cock.

“Ready?” Ed panted, his gaze fixed on Stede’s hand at its work, his face flushed.

“Very!” Stede squeaked. “So ready!”

Ed shifted so that he now knelt straddling Stede’s hips. He took hold of Stede’s cock, an electric sensation that sent a bolt of fear through Stede that he would spend before the main event had truly begun. And then Ed began to sink down.

Stede gasped when the head of his cock slid into the heat of Ed’s body.

“Oh my god!” Stede choked out, back arching. “Ed! Oh god!”

Coupling with Mary had been…strange. By default it wasn’t without intimacy, but it had been clinical. A necessity.

But THIS! With Ed it was pure longing. Stede was engulfed in undiluted sensation as Ed took him deeper, Ed’s own head thrown back. Stede clutched his thighs, marveling at the sight of the beautiful brown skin and elaborate tattoos beneath his pale fingers. This was everything!

“I love you!” Stede panted, having waited so long to confess his feelings and now knowing he could never say the words enough. God above! How could the human body feel so much all at once??

“I love you,” Ed said in turn, with so much emotion in those miraculous dark eyes.

When Ed was fully seated in Stede’s lap, Stede buried within him, they held themselves perfectly still for several loud heartbeats, gazing at each other.

“You good?” Ed breathed.

“I’m everything,” Stede sobbed, wracked by the force of this moment. He swallowed and tried again to voice the truth careening through his entire body, “You are everything, Ed. THIS is everything.”

Ed reached out, seemingly lost for words, and caressed Stede’s face. Then he shifted, raised himself, and began to move. Stede saw stars. This was so much more than his most vivid fantasies!

Of course, his body wasn’t used to this level of stimulation, and he barely managed to stutter a warning after watching Ed fuck himself on Stede’s prick for an embarrassingly short amount of time, before he’s coming far harder than he ever has in his life, buried deep inside the world’s most famous pirate. His vision actually whites out for a moment, but when he can see again it’s to the painfully gorgeous sight of Ed, still with Stede inside him, desperately stroking his own cock as he gazed lovingly at Stede’s flushed, sweaty face. He gasps Stede’s name as Stede’s chest is painted with his spend.

Stede will hazily be able to recall Ed getting up, fetching a clean cloth and a pitcher of water to clean them both up with, before settling back into the bed and cuddling up against Stede, the two of them drifting off into a deep, thoroughly satiated sleep.

Stede wakes before Ed, early morning sunlight streaming through the bay window. He gazes at Ed’s sleeping face, so beautiful and at peace, and knows that it is no small miracle to get to wake up with the body of the person you love pressed against you. He vows to himself that he’ll never take these moments for granted, though he hopes there’ll be a myriad of them as he and Ed face the world side by side for years and years to come.

Years ago, while Mary was at a painting lesson, Stede decided to go to a performance of “Twelfth Night,” a play he’d read but never seen on stage. It had always been one of his favorites by the Bard, but on paper he’d largely overlooked the character of Antonio, a ship’s captain who’d saved Viola’s brother, Sebastian, from the storm-tossed sea. The actor who strode onto the stage had long dark hair, and put Stede in mind of Ed immediately. Stede was immediately disappointed the character wasn’t in more scenes, but Stede drank in the sight of him every chance he got, and committed all of lines to memory.

Watching Ed sleep now, Stede can’t help breathing the final line Antonio spoke in his first scene, Stede’s entire soul singing with it:

“But, come what may, I do adore thee so, that danger shall seem sport, and I will go.”

Chapter Text

“Here we are,” Stede said brightly, coming up on deck where Ed stood, gazing out at the sea. “A dollop of milk, and seven sugars.”

He handed Ed the lovely floral cup.

Ed gave Stede a warm, familiar smile as he took the saucer, carefully pinching the cup's delicate handle between fingers and thumb.

“Wouldn’t be the same with six,” Ed pronounced, before taking a sweet sip.

They’d changed so much in the years since they’d been reunited, that third and final time. Their hair and beards had grown and grayed. They’d met and lost many a crew member. Buttons was still with them, of course, taking good care of Karl and his family. Stede had recently taken on a scribe named Lucius, who was helping Stede and Ed write out their memoir.

Of course they’d both become strikingly infamous. Blackbeard was the most famous pirate in the world, and Stede had done his part to enhance their profits by taking Ed and any crew members that wanted to attend, to elegant parties dressed as aristocrats. It started by just pickpocketing the guests and the venues, but in recent years they’d become increasingly more lucrative, thanks to Frenchie and what he’d come to call his “Pyramid Schemes.”

Every time they ventured into town Stede delighted in returning with a new garment of fine fabric, a piece of delicate china, or a dainty pastry for Ed, all the types of things he’d been told he couldn’t have when he was young. Stede drank in the look of awe and gratitude on the fearsome pirate’s face every single time.

“You spoil me,” Ed said, when Stede brought back a dressing gown of “rather exquisite cashmere,” before drawing Stede in for a kiss.

“Of course I do,” Stede said, when they broke apart long enough for words. “You’re my husband. It’s my job to spoil you.”

Stede would never forget his shock when he learned, mere months after taking to the high seas as the mighty Blackbeard’s co-captain, that men could be bound together in a ceremony akin to marriage.

“Would you,” Stede had choked, and cleared his throat to try again, hardly daring to voice the words. Surely he couldn’t hope for so much? “Is there a chance you’d want that? With me?” He could feel his face heating, and knew he must be red to the very roots of his hair.

“Love,” Ed had purred against the sensitive skin of Stede’s throat, “I’m already wearing your ring.”

Stede’s heart had soared at those words, as if it had never known what it was to be broken, hobbled by fear and loneliness.

As a sign of their union, they’d each chosen a tattoo, Stede’s first at the time, though he now had quite a few more. Stede chose a Kraken to be inked on the back of his left hand, while Ed chose lighthouse.

“Why the Kraken?” Ed asked, quirking an eyebrow. “You prefer the monster in me?”

“I love everything that’s in you,” Stede answered with a twinkle in his eye. “But mostly I chose it because of the tentacles.”

Both of Ed’s eyebrows went up that time.

“Cephalopods hold on to what they want, and are strategically designed by nature not to let go. Since you have me, I rather like that notion. But now I must know, darling, why the lighthouse? Aren’t you the one who taught me that they were to be avoided, so you don’t crack up on the rocks?”

Ed shrugged from where he lounged on the loveseat. “They’re constant, whatever the season, whatever the weather. Also, your gold hair reminds me of the shine of their light in the darkness.”

“You are remarkably poetic, my love,” Stede said, sitting down on the edge of the bending down to thoroughly kiss his co-captain. They were making up for lost time, after all. Washing away all the years they'd spent without kisses and the comforts of an affectionate touch.

Once a year they returned to visit Mary and Alma. Mary had had Stede legally declared dead about a year after he left, as they’d agreed. She was now married to Doug, and their son, Luis, was a vibrant, happy child. Alma loved her father and both her step-fathers fiercely. She drank in all of Ed’s stories of life at sea, even when she declared she was too old to play pirates with Ed and Stede and Luis.

It was one of the greatest joys of Stede’s life that his child never doubted that she was loved, and that there were no shortage of people in her life to assure Alma that they cherished her.

It wasn’t a perfect life, for no life is perfect. Ed and Stede still bore the scars of their pasts, and the challenges they faced in the present were harder to surmount some days than others. All the same, they never failed to recognize that they were fortunate enough to have someone who always saw the best in them, and encouraged them to see the best in themselves, to assure them that they could both more on from their mistakes. There was always a way forward.

They stared down storms, armadas, and passive aggression side-by-side, just as they enjoyed their tea now, with the salt breeze in their hair, and the sun on their faces: together, always and forever.