Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ohoho, we have a tie!” Lucius says, voice booming through the trivia night mic.

Ed’s still standing at the launching line at the other end of the room, last man up because he knew he was going to sail past all the rest, and he narrows his eyes. Like fuck someone else just threw a paper plane as far as he did. Ed’s an expert at paper planes, and the minute this bonus round was announced he knew he was going to crush it.

But…

But.

The chaos of the last few minutes, in which all two hundred or so trivia night participants were handed a sheet of paper, told to make a plane, and then took turns to see who could throw theirs furthest, has died off. All that’s left is a sea of crashed planes, and Ed, and The Other Guy.

The other guy, it’s important to note, is standing expectantly beside Lucius, who’s staring expectantly at Ed.

The boy also works at the airport, and in fact he’d kinda bullied Ed into coming tonight, and he looks so gleeful right now that Ed wants to push him off an air bridge, a little bit.

But, the guy. The guy is broad-shouldered and square-chested, really representing rectangles out here. He’s wearing skinny black jeans and a tight blue tee, and he’s got a gravity-defying cloud of golden hair. Also, that nose. Those arms? He’s grinning maniacally at Ed.

Even from a distance, Ed can see he’s got a dimple.

His heart thuds.

Ed finally gets himself together and heads over there. The guy is standing beyond all the other planes, at a distance only their two aircraft managed to make, and he's next to a plane that’s so ridiculous it shouldn’t be able to fly, let alone fucking win, all squared-off angles.

And just like that, Ed shakes himself out of it and gets his game face back on, strolling the last few steps to meet them, really emphasising the swagger, glad he wore all leather tonight as he catches the guy's gaze.

“A tie,” Lucius says, pointing to the floor, to Ed’s plane, which really is right beside the other one. “See?”

Ed sees. Ed also gives him the full Blackbeard stare, and Lucius swallows so loudly that it carries through the mic, makes a little sound echo from the speakers.

And then Ed turns to the other guy and says, “So you’re the challenger.”

The other guy laughs lightly, just an edge of bitchiness behind it. “Oh, no, I’m the winner in waiting.” He extends his hand. “Stede. Pleased to meet you, I think?”

The name rings a slight bell, but Ed’s too busy staring down at his hand to think about it. Elegant fingers. Good and solid, too, and Ed bets he’d be perfect at using those for a lot of things. Like making paper planes, apparently. He slides his hand into that smooth grip and shakes. “Call me Ed.” He leans in a little. “Practice for when you’re crying it later.”

He only realises what the fuck he just said when Lucius gasps, and Stede’s cheeks tint pink.

“Fuck,” Ed says. “I meant because, uh, because you’re gonna lose.”

“Sure,” Stede says. And then, “I might need that hand back if I’m going to fold more planes.”

Ed lets go of the hand he hadn't realised he’d still been holding, cursing. “Wait, planes plural?”

Stede arches one golden brow. “Unless you’re planning to lose on the first go, and save me the effort?”

Ed chuckles, low, meeting the challenge. “Nope. Gonna give you a real pounding—fuck.”

Lucius is almost humming with glee. “Right, well, as much as I’d love to see this settled another way, we’re here for planes.”

“And trivia, Lucius!” Stede says, in a tone that says he also knows the guy pretty well. Hmm. Who the fuck is he?

“And trivia,” Lucius agrees. “But in this instance, planes, so.” He gestures behind him, and his boyfriend Pete darts forward with a new stack of paper, winking at Ed as he hands over half of it.

“You’ll each make a new plane. We’ve got four rounds left, so four chances, in the breaks between the rounds and after the last one. If one of you wins, it’s over. If you tie, you’ll make another plane and try again in the next break.”

“And what’s the prize here?” Stede asks.

Lucius laughs. “Keep your pants on, Stede. You’ll find out soon. Deal?”

Ed turns to face Stede. He’s got hazel eyes, a real pretty grey-green blend. He looks smug and confident and amused, and Ed’s fucking intrigued by him.

“Deal,” he says, offering his hand again, and when Stede takes it, Ed pulls him all the way in. Lets his lips fully brush the guy’s ear, doesn’t miss his sharp intake of breath as he says, “Do your worst.”

Stede scoffs. “You’re on.”

He's a little reluctant to let go of Stede, but he does in the end. Takes two steps back toward his own table as Stede does likewise, like a duel in reverse, and then Ed pauses. Dashes back in and bends down carefully to pick up Stede's plane, giving Lucius the eye the whole time, daring him to say something.

He's smart enough not to. But just as Ed snatches his prize and turns away, Stede notices.

Yells, "Oi!" and comes darting back, but all he does is dive on Ed's abandoned plane and snatch that up for himself.

Ed gives him a smile that's at least sixty percent feral cat. "Enjoy that."

Stede sniffs. "I will. You, too."

Oh, Ed absolutely will.

He takes it back to his own table like it's all the prize he needs tonight, and finally catches sight of his team all staring back at him. "What?"

Izzy looks like he just sucked a lemon for the entire ten minutes that took. "You don't owe that twat attention."

Ed snorts as he slides into his seat, because this just became a bonus. "You don't like him, huh?"

Izzy splutters. "Fuck off, of course I don't. You don’t—“

“I only just met him, Iz.” And so far, even if they’ve only shared a handful of words, Ed likes him very much. "I get to like whoever I want."

"What've you got there?" Fang asks, nudging his shoulder before they can descend into another petty argument.

Ed holds the plane up. "Fucking fascinating. Did you see this thing fly?"

Fang's cheeks are rounded with a grin. "Oh, I did. He's gone for the bullnose, nice choice."

Doesn't even have a spot of tape on top to keep it together- from expert folds alone, this thing just flew in a steady, floating, straight line that lasted so long it almost went out the window.

It was really something.

It's got a lot of folds up front, all of them tucked in precise, straight lines. The end result is a flat nose instead of a point, and wings that make it almost rectangular. Appropriate shape to match the owner. It looks like it shouldn't stay in the air, but fuck, it did more.

It flew.

The true definition of flying, defying gravity, using every parameter of lift and drag to perfect advantage. Ed might like the maker but he loves the plane.

[Make Stede's bullet plane here! You will not believe how sweetly this thing flies over a long distance.]

Ed already knows what Stede's seeing over at his table, which is on the other side of the room. Whenever he glances over, all he sees is a flash of bright hair as Stede and his team all bend together to dissect Ed's plane.

It's a raven, with a classic pointed nose, but with good front-loading. Shaped like the harrier that's a popular choice, nice sharp aerodynamic tails at the back, but with an extra internal fold in the wings to give it that little bit more forward heft. With a good solid throw (and Ed never misses arm day at the gym) it flies like an arrow, fast and true over a good distance.

Far enough to tie with Stede, anyway.

[Make Ed's raven plane here! It's a little finicky and it definitely benefits from an evenly-applied spot of tape to hold the top together, but with a good throw it goes pretty nicely.]

Stede's plane has teal and gold all over it in pretty swirls, and the name written out in slightly wonky capitals on the top of the wing cryptically reads: The Revenge.

"Huh," Ed says out loud.

"Revenge against who?" Archie asks from across the table, barely pausing from shovelling in slices of cabanossi sausage from the snack tray that Fang and Ivan brought along. All the classics, crackers and cheese and pickled onions and salami and olives and French onion dip and so on, a salt bomb that’s kept them going all night.

"Or what,” Ivan adds, glancing over at Frenchie meaningfully.

Frenchie's eyes go wide before he gives an elaborate shrug. "Don't know, wouldn't know that, wouldn't know anything about Stede."

Ed looks up at him, and Frenchie laughs nervously. Ed squints. "Did I say his name?"

"Lucius," Jim blurts from beside Frenchie. "Lucius said it."

"Stede Stede," Archie confirms, lifting a pretzel stick like a microphone, doing a muffled voice. "Boop, right in the noisemaker for everyone to hear."

"Are we ready for the next round?" the actual Lucius yells through the speakers just then, and it feels like everyone at Ed's table lets out a suspicious sigh of relief.

"Give it here, then," Izzy snaps, gesturing.

Ivan slides him the paper he’s asking for and Archie tosses him the pen. Izzy's not about to let anyone else write down a single question in this thing, and that's fine. Saves them all some of the tongue-lashing whenever they get one wrong.

Ed's normally pretty great at these. Lots of useless facts stored in his brain. There's not much Ed doesn't know something about, and there’s plenty he knows a lot about.

Only one subject that's brand new to him, though, and that's Stede.

Good news is, Ed's been fucking bored lately, looking for something, anything to break the monotony.

It's flown right into his lap.

The questions of the next round whiz by, this time geography themed. Frenchie comes up with as many wrong answers as you'd expect from a guy who insists the whole world is rocky and flat, but Jim's a gun at it, and they come through with a respectable seven out of ten, still holding in third place for now. They’ve got three more rounds to climb to first, and they’re all competitive fuckers at this table, so Ed’s confident they’ll get there.

And then Lucius is calling for Ed and Stede to start their tiebreaker, giving them ten minutes to come up with something new.

Ed takes a last glance across the room, looking for the bright gold hair that glows like a candle in the crowd. Stede’s already bent over his work, arms flexing as he folds the paper.

Ed grins. He's got this.

He knows exactly what to do.

Chapter Text

Stede has always loved a trivia night. It's invigorating, competing against others for the glory, and what's more, it really requires teamwork. Everyone on the team has different strengths, and only by working together can they manage their best.

Stede, though, is the paper plane guy.

So it was convenient that there was a bonus round that involves folding paper planes. He has a sneaking suspicion that Lucius added it to the event purely because he's heard Stede talk so many times about his skills in this area.

To support him in that, not to prove him wrong. He's sure that's it.

He was quietly confident when the round was announced, and even moreso when he stepped up to throw his plane, and watched it soar past all the rest, so far that spectators actually gasped.

Nobody came close.

Nobody until Ed.

His plane had flown incredibly, but Stede had barely watched. He was busy staring across the room at the man who'd just launched it. There was a magnetic sort of energy about him. Aesthetically beautiful, of course, with his long silvering hair caught up in a loose bun, and all that leather.

But no, more something about his concentration, his focus, the matching level of attention he was giving this. Much more serious about it than anyone else in the room, other than Stede.

"Oh, thank fuck," he was sure he'd heard Lucius say, as Ed's plane skidded to a stop right beside Stede's, like two nesting birds reunited.

"Not thank fuck," he'd said petulantly, realising immediately that it meant he hadn't won. "Not thank fuck at all!"

And then Ed had walked over.

He'd been all smirking challenge and smoking hot charisma, deep brown eyes with a perfectly placed smudge of eyeliner, warm hand shaking Stede's, voice low and rumbling.

It was definitely getting hot in this room. Someone should turn on another fan.

They'd agreed to a rematch. Ed took his plane.

Stede took Ed's plane back to his table, and thank god he'd brought Jeffrey and Roach along with the rest of the team, because they'd been right on top of the geography questions of the next round while Stede had been on another planet, inspecting the work of this new... friend? Rival?

A raven, beautifully folded, precise, sure lines. Ed's a true craftsman, and Stede has so much respect for that.

"A beauty of a bird if I've ever seen one," Buttons had said, leaning in to take a look.

"Isn't it?"

And Buttons knows birds. Stede feels oddly pleased that Ed has his approval.

"What the hell are you going to make next?" Wee John asks, once the round is finished. Stede looks around at his team. The Swede looks worried. Oluwande's just grinning.

Doug is, of course, Doug about it. "There's no pressure, Stede. You've already brought us great honour."

"Well, thank you, Doug." His ex-wife's new husband is a lovely man, but he doesn't have a competitive ounce in his body. "Nonetheless, one must continue to try!"

And that is, of course, the cue for Lucius to call out that he and Ed have ten minutes to make something new.

Oluwande slides him a sheet of paper from across the table, and he swipes it up, already folding it before he's put it down. "I respect the thought that went into that last round, and I've used my favourite fast one, so I think it's time for a bit more glide."

Roach snorts. Stede ignores him.

Everyone goes quiet as they watch him work.

He's looking for something that both floats and covers the distance, in case Ed's got something really devastating up his sleeve, which feels very probable.

"I learned this one with Louis," he tells them all, moving quickly through origami folds. “It’s a good one.”

Louis had a bit of a paper plane phase last year that really reactivated Stede's inner child. This time he didn’t have to worry about his awful father raging about the mess, so he and Louis had covered the house in planes for a solid few days before they both got bored and quit.

Nonetheless, he'd come out the other side with some new skills, which paired with his existing knowledge, does indeed make him very good at this.

"Time?"

"You only have one minute left?” the Swede tells him, voice pitching toward frantic.

"Not a problem, my Nordic friend." He slides smoothly through the final tucks and folds and holds it up. "I'm done."

"And, time!" Lucius calls.

Stede twists in his seat, suddenly concerned as to whether Ed managed to finish his plane, too. Across the room, Ed's sitting with an ankle propped on his opposite knee, arms folded, grinning back. His plane's balancing on his knee, ready to go.

Well. There's no rule against using all the given time. Just because Ed finished faster doesn’t automatically mean he did better.

"You've got this, cap," Oluwande says. "No pressure, but Jim and Archie are probably going to make me wash the dishes for a week if you lose."

"I'll keep that in mind." He shoves his chair back, determined not to think about it at all.

Somehow all three of Oluwande's partners ended up on different tables tonight. Jim and Archie apparently know Ed, so they’re over with him, and Zheng has a formidable team of her own across the room, so far ahead in first place that the real race for everyone else is for second.

Stede suspects that Oluwande chose his table on purpose, as a preference, and that’s… well. He's had his struggles over the years, fitting in, finding friends, but the current crew feel more like family, and they treat him like they genuinely care about him, and he does actually want to win this for all of them.

He supposes the same is probably true for Ed, as he makes it to the starting line and watches Ed saunter up, too.

"Hey," Ed says, grinning.

"Hello."

Now they've got a bit more time, he's noticing other things about Ed. Like, that one arm of his jacket is cut away, revealing a stunning tattoo of a snake winding down that arm. He's wearing a delicate string of pearls that looks gorgeous on him. He's lovely.

Ed waves his plane. "Ready to see who comes out on top?"

Another thing Stede is not fantastic at figuring out, but... he's pretty confident, maybe because Jeffrey had shaken him hard enough to rattle his teeth about it, that Ed is flirting rampantly with him, and he's got the same look on his face now.

Stede swallows. "I do like to be on top."

He's rewarded with Ed's mouth dropping open a little, and his smile hitching up at one side. "Well, fuck, so do I."

Stede hums. “Can't both be on top, can we?"

Ed’s grin gets wider. “Not at the same time."

Nobody did turn on another fan here, come to think of it. It's still incredibly warm in this room, warmer still all the time.

"Right. Would you like to go first, and I can take the rear?"

Ed chokes out a laugh. "Fucking hell. Yeah, all right, I'll go up first, you line up behind me.”

He does. Takes the same stance as before, plane beautifully balanced in the hand that has the snake's head tattooed onto it, a nautical star beside that.

And then he throws.

Stede knows immediately that he's lost this, and it hits him like a blow. Ed's plane had a complicated little locking system on the nose, from the quick glance he got, weighting the front and smoothing the drag by keeping all the layers tucked together, and it flies even further than the first, cracking into the wall behind Lucius.

There are gasps and cheers all round.

Stede contemplates quitting on the spot.

But then Ed turns around beaming. "Pretty fucking good, right?"

He's so delighted, and Stede can't deny him that joy. "Absolutely wonderful. An impossible standard to meet, but what a way to go!"

[You can check out Ed's Plasma Z plane here! Be aware that this one uses US letter-sized paper and isn't quite as precise with A4]

Ed claps him on the shoulder as he goes past. "Don't sell yourself short, mate. I like the look of this one."

His mistake, Stede thinks, as he steps up to the line, was thinking that glide would be enough. Ed had incorporated both glide and speed and distance, and he'll reap the reward for that.

Ah well. Nothing for it. Stede pulls back his arm and throws, and his plane glides out smoothly, directly, heading on the same trajectory. It floats majestically for a good long while, and then the descent begins.

It stops a solid three metres short of where Ed's landed.

[You can try Stede's Elanus glider here! Once again this uses letter sized paper- folds okay with A4 but if you have the original, I reckon it's likely more precise]

There's a much smaller cheer, but a second later Ed pops up behind him, shaking his shoulders. "That was incredible! Never seen a plane fly that smoothly, holy shit, you gotta teach me that one.”

Despite himself, a smile rises. "It was lovely, wasn't it?" He knows when he’s licked, though. He extends his hand. "Congratulations, Ed."

"Not so fast," Lucius booms from the other end of the room. "Hold please, the judges are conferring."

"Conferring?" Stede says, brows jumping. "It seemed quite clear-cut to me."

Ed shrugs. "Guess there's a technicality." He hums. "Maybe we should, uh. Do some ice-breakers while we wait."

It's just a trivia night contest, nothing of importance, but Stede can't help the way the anxiety niggles as Lucius and Pete discuss. Ed seems to notice, and what's more, seems to want to help. He snags a couple of empty chairs from a nearby table and pulls them over. Gestures for Stede to sit, very gentlemanly.

"Why, thank you," Stede says, and takes the seat.

Ed drops to sit in the other one. They're still at the launching line, and the room's gone back to the low rumble of chat, and it might as well just be the two of them, the way Ed's looking at him.

Then: "Do you work in stationery?"

Stede lets out a startled laugh. "What? No! Why?"

Ed leans back in his chair, letting the purple t-shirt he's got under that leather jacket ride up slightly, exposing a strip of furry tummy. "Fuck, I really thought I had it there. Just, you know. Those folds are so precise, man."

Stede laughs, lets the warmth of the praise wash over him. "Well, thank you. I've done a lot of practice, but not in stationery." He rubs a finger over his chin. "Turn about is fair play, hmm? Let me guess, you work in... clothing."

Ed wheezes out a giggle. "What?"

"Because of the folding."

"Guess we're pretty focussed on the folding, hey?" Ed grins. "Not in clothing, nope. Don't mind folding things, though. Could fold your shirt, your socks..."

Flirting. Definitely flirting. Stede digs for the right script. "I suppose you'd have to get them off me first."

"Fuck," Ed groans.

By the way he tips his head back, the heat in his eyes, Stede thinks he's getting a good grade in this. "Would you like me to tell you what I do?"

Ed frowns. "That'd just ruin the fun."

"All right!" Stede says. "No, you're right." Casting around for a new topic, he remembers the plane. "Jeff's Jets?" he asks, brow raised, and Ed smiles again. He's got a lovely smile, all warmth and crinkled eyes and mischief.

"Yeah, like... only a dick names their planes after themself, right? So Jeff's my pseudonym."

Stede swallows down his inadequacies. "You'd run a great airline."

"I know I would," Ed says smugly. "We'd have proper leg room. Online bookings that don't make you want to tear your hair out. Local snacks on the menu, all from small businesses. A gift shop up the back."

Stede's cheeks hurt from beaming. "I'd fly your airline."

Ed shrugs. "It's gonna be popular."

"I'd make sure to book off-peak."

Ed nods along. "Yeah, I reckon I can get you a seat."

"Fab," Stede says, and steers for safer waters. "What else can you guess about me?"

Or at least he thought they were safe until Ed's eyes gleam. "Oh, I know all about you."

Stede gulps. "Oh, yes?"

Ed glances up the hall to where Lucius and Pete are still bent together, less discussing animatedly, more... sort of watching Stede and Ed, actually, by the way they both spin away when they notice Stede looking.

Hmm.

"You've got money," Ed says, and Stede's heart sinks.

There’s usually a certain amount of book-cover-reading when it comes to him, assumptions and expectations that he’s dealt with all his life, and he’d hoped perhaps he could avoid those with Ed. Maybe not. “Ah, I suppose I do. Well sussed."

"But you're not a dick about it," Ed says, making it sound like it was the point of that observation, not a belated way to soften it. He nods to Stede's watch. "Pricey, but pretty. You like fine things."

"So do you," Stede says, desperate to turn this heat away.

That seems to make Ed falter for a moment, especially when he realises Stede's looking at the slip of deep red silk that's poking out of his jacket. He scoffs as he shoves it back in. "That tatty old thing?"

"Sometimes the old things are the best things," Stede says sincerely.

Ed lets out a little breath. "See? You really mean that."

"I do," Stede says. "I think you're a very stylish man, even if you're trying to look casual tonight."

Ed bites his lip. "Not working?"

Stede lets his gaze rake over Ed and back again. "Oh, it's all very much working for you."

"Thanks," Ed says, then clears his throat. "Anyway, not a dick, like I said. You've got all these little laugh lines 'round your eyes, your mouth. You like stuff. You’re kind.”

Stede feels a little breathless. Ed really sees him, doesn't he? "Maybe I'm laughing at the plight of others."

"You wouldn't," Ed says, with complete conviction. "I was watching your face when your plane stopped short there. Kinda... folded in on yourself a little, like you were expecting people to take the piss, because it’s happened before. And you'd never do that to other people, whether they deserved it or not."

"God," Stede says. He wasn't expecting to be analysed this accurately, and it makes him squint. "You're a psych."

Ed snorts. "I see a psych. Definitely not a psych." He tilts his head back toward Stede's table. "You've got loyal friends. All helped you before. All happy to see you."

"Wasn't always true," Stede says faintly, and nods across at Ed's table. "You, too, except for that one guy."

Ed scrunches his eyes shut as he laughs. "Yeah, that's Iz. He's just like that."

"Hmm," Stede says. "But they all hang onto your every word. They respect you enormously."

This time he definitely doesn't miss the way Ed sighs, and there’s so much weight to it. Stede wants to know everything about this man. Ed says, “They did."

"They still do." He's totally sure of that, no matter what Ed’s referencing here. "We all have our rocky patches." He should probably quit while he's ahead, but after the piercing accuracy of Ed's observations, he can't quite stop himself. "I think you're used to having to look after yourself," he says quietly, and Ed's luminous eyes flick up, vulnerable, guarded. "I don't think you had much security when you were small."

"Who's the psych now?" Ed croaks, managing half a laugh. "Fucking hell."

"I think it's hard for you to believe." Ed raises a brow, and he goes on. "That people do have your back. That you could lean on them if you needed to. That there are new friends in the world who you haven't met yet." He leans in and whispers, "That's me."

If he's not mistaken, Ed's blinking back tears, and he can't have that. He reaches out for his hand.

It only hits him that it might be a bit of a weird thing to do after he's dragged Ed's palm over to sit on his thigh, and Ed's all but stopped breathing.

"Gosh, I'm sorry. Is this all right?"

Ed nods. "Perfect."

"Right, then." His heart is hammering, and he wills it to calm.

"I think you work with your hands," he says, tracing the calluses. "But not all the time. Something that asks for both your formidable intelligence and your physical skills."

“Yeah?” Ed asks roughly. “What might that be?"

Stede shrugs, thumbs over the lines of Ed’s palm. "Possibly an architect? An interior designer? I don't know. But I'm certain that you're very, very good at it."

Ed lets out a hushed little breath, but then there's a cough from the other end of the room and the sound system squeals a little as Lucius says, "Right, we've decided."

Stede sits up a bit straighter, lets go of Ed's hand. Tries not to feel pre-emptively crushed by the end of this adventure.

Lucius hands the mic to Pete, who clears his throat, waves to the audience like a celebrity. "Hi everyone. Hi Blackbeard."

Stede twists in surprise, scanning the crowd, but he hasn't seen any hint of anyone who brings to mind the reclusive millionaire Blackbeard here. Pete must be mistaken. As if Blackbeard would be at the airport quiz night!

"We decided this time it was about, uh, glide?" Pete looks across for backup, and Lucius nods frantically. "Okay, yeah, glide. Like whose plane flew the nicest. And they both flew pretty nice, so. Another draw."

"You can't just change the rules mid-competition!" Stede says, compelled to stand. "We didn't even know what we were doing!”

"And yet," Lucius says, sliding the mic back out of Pete's hand, "you still did a perfect job all the same. A round of applause for these two." There's a smattering of polite clapping. "Only thing for it is another tie-breaker!" Lucius says. "So, everyone back to the next round, and we’ll see these two for more planes soon!”

"What do you want from us next time?" Ed yells, standing.

Lucius turns back. Looks at Pete, who looks panicked for a second, and then grabs the mic and says, "Acrobatics next time. Do something cool. Something weird."

"Something weird," Ed murmurs. "All right, cool. Yeah.”

Stede can do weird. Stede knows weird intimately. And rules chicanery aside, he's not ready for this contest to end, and it doesn't seem Ed is, either. He extends his hand, and Ed shakes it again.

"See you back up here, I suppose!"

"Yeah," Ed says, smile warming again. "See you soon."

Stede feels like he’s travelled across half the world of Ed in that ten minutes, but there’s so, so much more to discover. Whatever comes next, he’s going to compete for that possibility with everything he’s got.

Chapter Text

“Jesus Christ,” Ed says, slumping into his chair, still reeling from every minute of that conversation with Stede. “What the fuck.”

“Never seen anyone go down so hard for a new guy, so fast,” Archie crows, while Jim shakes her and tries to shut her up. “Nah nah nah, I can say it, I can—”

“We are here for trivia,” Izzy says through his teeth, pencil gripped so tight between his fingers that it’s a miracle the thing doesn’t snap in half. “The rest’s just a distraction.”

Ed twists to look at him. “Little bit of distraction’s good for you, Iz.” It’s not like this thing comes with any kind of fucking trophy, any real world advantage. Doesn’t have to be treated like everything else they do, does it? “It’s just for fun.”

“I think he’s lovely,” Fang says, all dreamy as he stares across at Stede. “Very sweet. He’s been hanging on your every word.”

“Because he’s Blackbeard,” Izzy growls.

Ed sets his jaw, because fucking hell. He can’t have anything good without Izzy dropping that little thought in his brain, can he? Maybe Stede knows exactly who he is. Yeah, okay, the odds of Stede not knowing who he is have gotta be next to nothing. He knows everyone in this room has been talking about him, and he’s been ignoring it all night, trying to do normal people things the way Jim keeps telling him he has to, and thanks a lot for that, Jim.

Stede hadn’t treated him like he wanted something from Ed. Hadn’t fawned over him, replayed the greatest hits of the things everyone assumes about him. He’d praised Ed, but it was genuine, he’s sure of that. And not the whole oh, you’re so fucking rich and talented, you’re so fucking famous thing, but the little stuff.

“No Blackbeard here tonight,” Ed says. “Just Ed.”

And before Izzy can open his mouth to disagree with him, Lucius is back on the sound system, reading out the next round.

It’s music, and they’re playing little soundbites, asking the teams to write down the rest of the lyrics after the song cuts out. Izzy doesn’t even argue this one; just slides the paper and pen sideways to Ivan, who nudges Archie, and they exchange a complicated little handshake, fist bumps and explosions included. Nobody’s going to outgun them on this round, not even Zheng. Ivan’s got a bigger vinyl collection than anyone Ed’s ever met, and Archie’s got a photographic memory for every flavour of music, never not singing something around the office.

He wonders how Stede’s doing, whether he likes music or not. He can’t see much from here, but he can somehow almost feel Stede in the room anyway. Like if he wasn’t here, Ed would know.

He maybe needs to get a grip, just a little. They’ve just met. He doesn’t know shit about Stede. And Stede either knows all about Ed, or knows just as little, and either way it’s probably not going to work, because the perfect guy landing in his lap just doesn’t happen to Ed. He shouldn’t even get his hopes up.

Ed gets them up anyway, because he’s a fool.

When the round’s done, confident they’ve nailed ten out of ten questions, and Lucius says that Ed and Stede have ten minutes to get going, he dives right into the task like his entire future depends on it. Which it doesn’t. Definitely not. What he really wants is to see that wondering look on Stede’s face again when he throws his plane. Doesn’t care if he wins or loses; is starting to suspect that Lucius and Pete are stretching this as far as they can, actually, and that there’s no way to come last here.

He’d do it for Stede, though. Ed’s a guy who always wins. Doesn’t even have to be in the boardroom, and they’re falling over themselves to give the company what he wants. He’s a ghost.

With Stede, he suddenly feels seen.

“I see where you’re going,” Fang says, peering over his shoulder at the plane. “Oh, yeah, that’s really nice.”

“Thanks,” Ed says. He’s pretty pleased with it. “Guess we’ll see if it’s enough.”

“Oh, it will be,” Archie says, and Ed throws her a look as he stands.

They all think they’re so fucking subtle.

Or maybe they don’t, maybe that’s the point. Either way, Stede’s already standing up there again when he makes it to the launching line, rocking on his heels, smile bright.

“Hello again.”

“Hey.” He raises a brow, because all Stede’s got in his hands is a tube of paper. “Where’s your plane?”

“To be revealed,” Stede says dramatically, with an eyebrow waggle for emphasis, and Ed laughs.

“You know how hard it is to find someone doing something original out here? And here you come, with your bullnose and your glider and your fuck knows what next.” He steps in closer. “You’re a lunatic, and I like it.”

“Good,” Stede whispers breathlessly. “I like you, too.”

He takes a step back, clears his throat, and gestures to the line. “After you, good sir.”

Ed’s made a spinner, nice fancy design, but built on basic aeronautical principles to do what it says on the tin. The back flaps are bent in opposite directions, one up, one down, and the front has a nice chisel of a nose that extends out the sides at a dihedral angle to keep that spin going over a good long distance.

[Make Ed's spinner plane here!]

He knows it’s good. It’s the fundamental principles of engineering right there, the stuff planes aim to avoid in the real world. But in this room, every eye on them? Blackbeard himself, grabbing hold of this whimsy, showing them all he’s more than they think? More to the point, showing off for Stede, doing something he’ll like—well, the more spin, the better.

And boy, does she spin. Fang lets out an ear-splitting whistle as the plane flies across the room, twisting sharply through a couple of dozen aileron rolls as she goes, holding a dead straight spinning line until it slides smoothly in to land at Lucius’ feet.

“Ha!” Stede says beside him. “Oh, that was glorious.”

Ed twists to catch a look at him, and yep, that’s the good shit right there, Stede’s brows lifted in wonder, smiling with his whole animated face.

“Guess it was pretty good.”

“It was! It was wonderful.”

The words feel warm and sincere and fucking lovely. Stede makes him feel proud of himself, and isn’t that a weird thing? He’s Blackbeard, he doesn’t need anyone to feel proud of him, and yet. When Stede does it, all he can think is how little of that he’s had these past few years. Public adulation from all corners, and nobody who cares about him.

He’s gotta push that aside if he doesn’t want to start crying at the quiz night. “‘Kay Stede, what’ve you got?”

Stede whips that paper tube out from behind his back, grinning. “This is it.”

Ed narrows his eyes. “Mate, I don’t know what to tell you, but that’s not a plane. That’s a tube.”

“Just you wait,” Stede says, and he steps up to the line with his disaster craft.

Ed has to eat his words immediately, because Stede pulls his arm back, and throws the tube like he’s releasing a spin bowl on the cricket pitch, giving it a little twist of his wrist just as he lobs it forward, and you know what?

Ed barks out a laugh the minute it starts to fly, because he’s an idiot.

That wasn’t a disaster. That was a masterpiece. It doesn’t look like a plane, because it’s more than that. It’s the purest demonstration of aerodynamics he’s seen in a long time. The tube pulls the air through the middle, and the spin creates the lift, and it goes wobbling off on a bobbing arc, weaving up and down as it spins, that goes right past Lucius and drops at Pete’s feet.

[Make Stede's insane tube plane here- it's super fun and you've gotta see it to believe it]

There’s silence for a second, and then the nearest table starts to clap, and it scatters around the room, Stede making a fancy little bow as they all applaud him.

He turns around and offers Ed his hand again, and Ed shakes it. “See? Lunatic.”

“I know,” Stede says, not letting go of his hand. “But gosh, it’s fun, isn’t it?”

“Incredible,” Ed says, and this time there’s a guy from a nearby table dragging two chairs out for them while Lucius and Pete confer up the front. “Dunno what they’ve gotta talk about this time,” Ed grumbles as he drops into his seat, and Stede sits beside him. “Pretty sure we both met that brief.”

“Perhaps they’re figuring out the next round. Trying to work out how they can stretch it.”

“Still got a few more up my sleeve,” Ed says.

Stede makes a show of checking up his own. “Well, what do you know? I do, too.”

“Glad to hear it.” He’s been spinning through that whole conversation from earlier, the realisation that they’d gone deep so fast, before they really knew each other at all. “So, uh. Feels like we kinda skipped the basics earlier, went straight for the trauma.” Even if Stede has no fucking clue how deep Ed’s struggles go yet, and he’s got no interest in revealing that right now. He looks up through his lashes. “What’s your favourite colour?”

Stede lets out a soft little laugh. “Oh. Hmm. I think… well, it’s teal, definitely. I love a nice rich jewel-toned blue-green. You?”

“Purple,” Ed says, no hesitation. “Makes me feel good, I dunno, it’s just—”

“It’s perfect,” Stede says warmly, tapping a finger against his lips. “Dog person or cat person?”

Ed sucks a breath through his teeth. “Oof, no pets on the aircraft kind of person, sorry.” Suddenly he’s hoping like fuck that Stede’s not super dedicated to his own personal cat overlord or anything. “You?”

“Neither, particularly,” Stede says, and okay, yeah, he’s maybe looking a little relieved. Score one for Ed. “They’re so unpredictable, and there’s so much extra work involved, so much responsibility, and I’m away from home quite often, and… yes. Anyhoo!” He blinks prettily. “Sweet or savoury?”

“Oh, sweet,” Ed says. “Sweet every fucking time. You?”

“I like a bit of both,” Stede says, and he’s laughing between breaths, like he can’t help himself. “I do love a person who appreciates a sweet treat, though. Nothing like getting to watch a person sink into the joy of that decadence.”

Ed suddenly wishes he had a fucking… donut or something right now. Something he could really moan about, just to watch Stede’s eyes go dark while he stares at Ed licking dripping pink icing off his fingers.

By the way Stede’s staring back at him, he’s pretty sure the guy’s thinking the same thing, and that’s—yeah.

He’s gotta find a safer topic. “Favourite place you’ve ever travelled?”

Stede’s smile goes softer. “Oh, god, I’ve done a lot of travelling.” He purses his lips. “Would it be trite to say that every time I go back to Aotearoa, I remember that it’s the most beautiful place on earth, and I never want to leave again?”

Ed shakes his head, blinking back. “Not trite at all. I know that feeling.”

“I thought you might,” Stede says, like he’s secretly pleased to get confirmation that he figured out one of the most obvious things about Ed. “And yet we’re both here, what’s that about?” They both know it’s a rhetorical question. You go where the money takes you. Like he’s reading Ed’s mind again, Stede gives another one of those soft little smiles and says, “Where would you like to travel that you haven’t been to yet?”

“Huh.” Ed folds his arms, thinks about that for a bit. “Been to a lot of places, too.” Probably more than half the world at this point. Nature of the business. It takes him a minute, but the answer pops up eventually. “You ever heard of the Gates of Hell?”

“Oh,” Stede says, and then snaps his fingers. “In Turkmenistan?”

“Those are they, yeah.” Giant gas pit in the desert that’s been on fire for fifty years; doesn’t seem to be slowing down at all. “Seen pictures of it just fucking… glowing out there under a dark night sky, and it’s majestic.”

He’s not going to tell Stede that he’s thought more than once about how belly-flopping into it would make a cool death, and a cool headline probably. Cooler than Enigmatic Airline Tycoon Blackbeard Dies Like He Lived… Alone.

“It does sound incredible,” Stede says. “Maybe I’ll add it to my bucket list, too.”

Ed sucks a breath through his teeth at the thought of he and Stede sharing a bucket list, and then shoves that fizzing feeling back down. “Only so much room on the bucket list, right? What are you kicking off the list for that?”

Stede ponders that for a minute. Bites his lip. Looks at the ceiling. Looks back at his table, none of whom are looking at him. Looks over at Lucius, who whips his head back to talk to Pete again.

And then he looks Ed directly in the eye and says, “I think I’ll cross off sex with a man.”

If Stede had run him right through, it couldn’t have gotten a more insane noise out of Ed. He fully wheezes, and it squawks a little on the way out, succeeds in sounding like a rusty car door or something. At least ten nearby people turn to look at him, and he throws them all his fiercest glare to shake them off.

“Gonna need you to unpack that one, mate,” Ed says, when he finally gets his breath back. And then, in a hurry, “I mean, only if you want to.”

Stede’s cheeks are pink, but he’s still smiling, still looking all hopeful. “Well. I only just divorced my wife and came out last year. I haven’t had much chance to dive in, as it were.”

“Mmhmm.” Checking the boxes, checking the fucking boxes, at least he knows for sure that he’s in with a chance. Theoretically. “But you’re done with it already?”

Stede laughs, a light little tinkle of a thing. “Oh, no, I’m just getting started. But I think perhaps I’m realising that I deserve more than a once-off bucket list moment, you know?”

Ed nods slowly. “Yep. Yeah. No, that makes sense.”

Not a bucket list item, that. More of a weekly grocery list kinda thing. The kind of thing you could share with someone with the same interests, you know? Check the box off every week. Every day, even, Ed doesn’t make the rules.

“I think we’ve got time for one last question, if I know Lucius as well as I think I do,” Stede says, eyeing up the pair of emcees as they shuffle papers up there. He looks up at Ed again with those wide, sparkling eyes, and once again gut punches him. “What are your three top things to live for?”

There’s static in Ed’s head for a second, bells clanging somewhere, an instant stab of who told you paranoia. But he chases it away fast, because the reality is that so far, he and Stede have understood each other in such fundamental ways that he can probably guess exactly where that question came from, somewhere inside Stede himself.

He clears his throat. “You ever feel like you’re treading water, just waiting to drown?”

Stede blinks, nods. “I very much have felt that, yes.”

Ed sighs. “Sometimes the shit that felt like enough of a reason last week doesn’t feel like enough this week.”

Stede’s brows pinch together. “Oh, Ed. I do know that feeling. I wish I didn’t, but more to the point, I wish you didn’t.”

“Not this week!” Ed rushes out. “This week’s been pretty fucking great.”

It hadn’t started out great, to be fair. He’d finally had to make the decision to scrap a 737 Max deal that’s been on hold for a few years now, and commit to A320s for the fleet expansion. They’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars and probably a whole protracted lot of legal bullshit, but Ed wants his passengers safe, that’s that. Hasn’t regained enough trust to commit to the new and improved versions the company swears are good this time, so, moving forward, onto the next.

It’s why Jim and Fang insisted he should come out tonight, get out of his head about it. The whole team’s behind him, even though he's been kind of a dick at times. Most of the shareholders support it, too. Reaction’s been largely positive, it’s just… fuck, it’s hard to balance all the responsibility sometimes.

Stede’s still staring at him, he realises, one eyebrow raised. “Shit, yeah, okay, uh. Warmth. Love to be warm, love a blanket.”

“Oh, me too, especially when it’s cold out.”

“Good food,” Ed says, ticking that off on his fingers, too. It feels obvious, but he’s not going to get in his head about that. “So many memories around food experiences.”

Good ones, and bad ones, and maybe he’s chased the good ones that little bit harder to get the old smashing plates of his childhood out of his head, but anyway. He’s done it. Lots of good food experiences under his belt now.

“Perfect,” Stede says. “One more to go.”

Two can absolutely play at this game. Ed pins him with a direct stare and says, “Intercourse.” Stede’s still blinking when he rushes to add, “with a man, specifically. Orgasms.” Stede’s blinking even faster now. “Gotta finish with the good shit.”

“Of course. Yes. Of course, absolutely, that all makes excellent sense. Good to know.”

He’s about to turn the question around, find out exactly what makes Stede tick, when Pete taps the microphone loudly and says, “Is this thing on?”

This thing is sending his voice bouncing off the fucking walls actually, and everyone winces as the speakers squeal. “Oh, shit,” Pete says. “Okay, yeah, it’s on. Also, another tie.”

“Of course it is,” Stede murmurs, but he’s looking amused as he glances over at Ed. “I think we’re maybe being set up a little bit here.”

“Reckon you’re right,” Ed says, though he doesn’t add set up as in on a blind date, or set up as in the butt of the joke? He doesn’t think either Lu or Pete would be that stupid.

“Of course it’s real hard to be the best when Blackbeard’s in the room,” Pete adds, chuckling. “But for the next round, just like… make something that like, represents you.”

“In a paper plane?” Stede calls out, brows draw together. “Really?”

“Really,” Lucius says, snatching the microphone. “Go away, get ready for the next round, bye.”

“Well,” Stede says, slapping his thighs, pushing himself up. “These interludes do fly by, don’t they?”

Ed snorts out a laugh. “Guess they do.”

They stand there for so long, a foot apart, that Ed starts to entertain fantasies of swaying in and kissing Stede. Especially after that conversation. Cards on the table, he’s intrigued by this guy. Hopelessly drawn to him.

But Stede’s just smiling brightly, blankly, and the next time he opens his mouth it’s to lean in and say, “Do you work for Blackbeard?”

The fuck. Ed stares at him for so long that it probably gets a little uncomfortable. All the tables around them are rustling to get ready for the next round and they’re just standing on the starting line like a pair of fools, until Ed gets his wits together.

“Never really thought about it like that,” he says. Blackbeard’s the image, the armour, the public face, the name. Sometimes it feels like Ed’s just along for the ride. “I guess I do.”

“Oh, lovely,” Stede says, and here it comes, right? The moment where Stede parrots back some shit about him, ruins everything. I’ve heard he’s a real asshole. I bet you all hate him. Must be a shit job.

But nope. No, Stede just keeps on smiling and says, “I’ve always admired him so much. I hope he’s as good to you as I’m sure you are to him.”

And then he’s off, heading for his own table, weaving through the crowd, and Ed’s left standing there like he’s just been whacked with a cartoon mallet.

“Edward,” Izzy snarls from the table across the room, and Ed sighs.

Can’t keep avoiding things, can’t just stay here and keep throwing made up planes into the room as if that’s all that matters. He makes his way back just as they get into the history round, which is one of his key areas of useless trivia knowledge, but his heart’s not in it anymore.

He shrugs off a couple of questions that he could do in his sleep, leaving them to others, and Izzy keeps getting more and more wound up.

In the end, he snaps, “Stupid fucking Stede Bonnet, done something to your brain.”

Now, Ed can’t say he’s encountered the name Stede a lot out there in the world. Only the once before, actually. So it would’ve made a bit of sense for him to hear Stede’s name at an airport trivia night and go, oh, Stede, unusual name, couldn’t be Stede Bonnet, right? No possible way, but just checking.

And yet. Didn’t occur to him for even one second. Not one fucking second that he might be lobbing paper planes against one of the biggest up-and-coming business rivals he’s got. Bonnet Airlines, the new CEO who’s just taken over after his awful old man died. Ed avoids the news like the plague, but he hears all the muttering from Izzy, so he knew. He knew that.

He feels incredibly stupid for it, and then he’s mad at himself for the negativity, and then mad at Stede for not just fucking saying his whole name, and he didn’t recognise Ed? Seriously? Maybe he did shave the famous beard most of the way off last week, yeah, after the whole 737 debacle peaked, but he’s not fucking Clark Kent, Christ.

“Stede Bonnet,” he repeats, and Izzy looks at him like he just grew a second head.

“Who the fuck did you think you were playing your little paper planes with?”

With Stede, that’s who. Just the way he’s been treating Ed like… just Ed. Just Stede, who’s cute as hell and newly out and hopeful about that, who loves Aotearoa and a bit of teal and makes the most insane paper planes Ed’s seen in a long time, because Ed started out as an aeronautical engineer, and he knows by reputation that Stede started out as a pilot.

They both get aerodynamics, no doubt about that.

They both know how a curve can change everything about the path ahead of you, how a gentle hand can set you floating instead of crashing.

They both know how to fly. Because their airlines fly against each other every fucking day.

There's no way to win this game.

Chapter Text

There’s a thrumming anxiety filling Stede as he marches back to his table. This was supposed to be just a trivia night! A simple evening out with the crew! And now he feels very much like his heart is attempting to exit his body, so hard is it beating.

He slides into his seat, and the whole crew stares back at him expectantly. He stares back at them, absolutely no idea what he’s meant to say.

“He works for Blackbeard,” is what comes out, and damn him, that’s really for Ed to know.

The reaction is… not quite what he expected. Olu scrubs a hand over his face and says, “Oh my god.” The Swede looks to Roach, who mimes drawing a zip across his lips, and then a second later a knife across his throat.

Jeffrey clears his throat. “Stede—”

Wee John leans sideways and claps a hand right over his mouth. “Nope.”

“Oh,” Doug says from across the table, wincing politely, if that’s even possible to do. “I think it’s only fair that—”

“All in good time,” Buttons intones, and then he nods to the front of the hall. “They’ve begun.”

There’s a scramble for the paper and pen in which it’s probably lucky nobody gets stabbed. It’s history, and of course everyone pivots to stare at Stede, with his ridiculous library and his wide range of historical special interests, and of course that means he doesn’t get a minute to think things through as question after question gets lobbed at him.

The third one’s a zinger, and he can hear the smirk in Lucius’ voice as he reads it out. “The infamous Blackbeard sailed in an alliance with which aristocrat-turned-pirate in 1717?”

Stede sighs heavily as he writes his own name on the paper, because yes! All right. He understands that question was especially for him, and for Blackbeard, probably, if Blackbeard’s actually here, if he even knows who Stede is. It’s been one of those points of fun around the office, everyone having a good laugh that his dubious family ancestry tracing back to his favourite historical era aligns him with the name of his professional rival in the present day. Blackbeard, for whom Ed works, and nope, he needs to push those thoughts aside for just a bit longer.

At the end of it he’s pretty satisfied with what they’ve managed, despite his barely-there distracted state- it’s a decent eight out of ten, and it pulls them into second place, passing Ed’s team.

Oh, that’s—he doesn’t want to beat Ed. Earlier tonight he’d been a bit ruthlessly focussed on competing with Zheng, the third airline player in the room, with her Red Flag Fleet and her sharp business mind sliding past every possible competitor year after year.

And then there’s Blackbeard’s Kraken Air, of course, which is also a brilliantly competitive player in the market. Prides itself on doing things differently: more leg room where most are reducing it, food all sourced from local businesses, an innovative app booking system that cuts through red tape, and Stede’s been very inspired by it, as he remakes Bonnet Airlines from what it was under his father’s—

Wait.

Oh, god, wait.

“Time for our airline competitors to face the next round!” Lucius says through the speakers. “You have ten minutes, hop on it.”

Stede twists in his seat to stare back at Ed, who’s hunched over his table, already folding. Ed, who when asked what he’d do in his perfect airline had listed off everything that Kraken already does. Perhaps just a satisfied employee?

But also Ed, naming his plane Jeff’s Jets, saying he’d never call his airline by his own name. Not like… not like Stede’s family, fuck, does he—does he know who Stede is? He’d sort of assumed that, to be fair, given the you’ve got money of it all, but also just assumed that Ed was seeing him for him. Has he been misreading these interactions the entire time, and Ed’s just been playing to his public image?

He’s sure he hasn’t. No, Ed’s been genuinely interested in him. Genuinely warm and lovely. Maybe he’s fine with Stede being his new competitor, sneaking up to knock him off the ladder.

Stede scrunches his face, because he doesn’t just mean the trivia night, does he? His brain has reached the conclusion well before it asked itself the question, and he’s only just catching up now.

He looks around the crew again, stricken. “Oh, god, Ed is Blackbeard, isn’t he?”

“No shit,” Wee John says drily, and nods to the paper. “Are you going to fold something, or?”

Ed. Ed is Blackbeard. Ed is his chief rival. And that revelation doesn’t end the hypotheticals, because what if Ed doesn’t know who he is?

“Stede!” Jeffrey says, pushing the paper at him. “For god’s sakes fold.”

Right. Right. What was the prompt? Something that represents them, what a bizarre idea for a paper plane. He feels like he’s represented himself fairly well to Ed here, aside from the entire career and family bit. And he can’t honestly say he’s sure how Ed will react if he doesn’t already know who Stede is, so… perhaps he needs to make a little bit of disaster recovery, in advance? Something honest. Something vulnerable, something true, something him.

He’s got it.

It’s a tricky one. For the first time he pulls out his Swiss Army knife and unfolds the tiny scissors, cuts himself a rounded edge on the base. The rest of the folds are relatively straightforward, and before long he has a plane that he hopes might carry a bit of a plea for understanding as it floats, just in case such a thing is needed?

Such a thing seems like it… might actually be needed, when the whistle blows and it’s time to go back to the starting line. Ed looks… thunderous.

“Ed,” he tries. “I only just realised—”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m Stede Bonnet.” He extends his hand. “Lovely to meet you.”

“Ed Teach.” Ed shakes, but even as the anger melts away, much more worryingly, the light also dims a bit in his eyes. “Likewise, mate. Can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

Stede inclines his head. “You’re a busy man, or so your office is always telling mine.”

Ed’s brows pinch together. “You’ve tried to set up a meeting?”

“Of course!” Stede’s determined not to do anything like his father did. “I know we’re technically competitors, but I like to think there are advantages in working together where we can. Cooperative support, cheering each other on—”

“Don’t think the market share works like that, mate,” Ed says, scratching the back of his head. He looks exhausted all of a sudden; has he always looked that tired? “Anyway, Queen Anne’s old news. People want something fresh, and here’s you repainting your entire fleet sea-green, shaking up everything your old man was doing…”

“Have we got some planes?” Lucius says from up the front, and when they turn he looks like he’s been waiting for them for minutes. “Yes, no?”

“Could just call it a truce,” Stede says, reaching desperately for the right thing to say. “Shake hands, call it a night.”

Ed nods wearily. “Could do.”

He takes a cautious breath. “But I did make one. The UFO.” He holds up the plane, so named for the rounded end and the odd way it flies. “Represents me, always a little bit different, never quite fitted on this planet.”

He meant it with full self-deprecating humour, but Ed’s frown has deepened. “Fuck off, you’re great.”

“And my differences are quite probably part of that.” He holds up the plane. “Let me show you.”

Ed nods, and Stede steps up to the line. This plane has broad wings for the minimal depth of the body, but they’re reinforced by several folds that mean it doesn’t need too much delicacy. When he releases it, it floats away gracefully, already veering in a circle, wings almost flapping as it goes.

[You can try making Stede's UFO plane here!]

He turns back to Ed, smiling, as the plane slides to a serene stop at the side of the runway. “See? Retraced all its old steps, landed somewhere slightly different, did it all with a unique style. Didn’t care if doesn’t work like everyone else’s planes.” He steps in closer. “It’s always been lonely, looking for something similarly unique.”

Ed stares at him, and all right, yes, maybe that was a bit much. Stede tries for a smile. “What’ve you got for us?”

Ed shakes his head. “Don’t think there’s anything unique here, man. Just another washed up middle-aged sad sack in leather, pretty sure that’s what Lucius called me one time.”

Stede snaps a glare back at the boy, because that warrants some words later. “Ignore him. I think you’re perfectly unique and fascinating. Who doesn’t!”

That was the wrong thing to say, he immediately knows, because Ed’s face falls even further, and he blows out a breath. “Nobody actually knows me, that’s the thing. Nobody ever wants to. That’s why I don’t have any friends.”

“Hey,” Stede says, reaching for his hand again, definitely not panicking when Ed sidesteps him. “I’m your friend.”

“Yeah.” Ed gives him another flat smile. “But you were always going to see me for what I am.” He lifts up a perfectly lovely little plane, with a bifurcated swallow tail and two sets of wingtips each angled sharply upwards. “What do you know, we managed to find a theme.” He waggles it. “The Space Kraken.”

But before he can actually throw it—and Stede’s sure it would fly beautifully—he lifts it instead and, and—crushes it into a ball, destroying all his work in an instant. And amidst the gasps and murmurs from the crowd, he draws back his arm and lobs the ball down the field, where it bounces a couple of times before it slides to a stop at Lucius’s feet.

“Take care, mate,” Ed says, and he turns and walks away.

[You can try making Ed's VERY complicated Space Kraken here- and it does fly beautifully when it's not crumpled 😭]

Stede stands rooted to the spot as the whole room erupts into shocked chatter. He’s absolutely baffled. Clueless. Helpless, god, he has to do something, that’s—

He turns to look at Lucius, who’s wide-eyed, doing some complicated set of hand gestures, pointing at the door Ed just shoved through on the other side of the hall.

Pete grabs the microphone and says, audio squeal and all, “You know, if this was a rom com—”

“All right!” Stede yells. “Fuck.”

He lets his body take over, and in a moment he’s pivoting on his heel and charging after Ed. Ed’s sad, and that’s not right, and Stede needs, needs to make this better.

Ed’s not in the bathrooms, once he’s out of the rumbling noise of the quiz room, immensely grateful for the silence. He’s not in the kitchen, which is empty tonight, all tables having brought their own snacks. He’s not anywhere when Stede bursts out into the garden of the place, and he’s just about to have his own sobbing meltdown when he hears the telltale squeak of a playground swing in the dark.

Ah.

He heads around the corner to where the playground sits, and yes, there’s the shape of Ed, sitting on one of the swings, rocking himself back and forth a bit in the dark.

Stede can’t remember a time in his life where he’s ever been so drawn toward another person, as if Ed’s a whole new source of gravity in the world that he never knew existed.

“Ed,” he says softly as he walks over there, not wanting to sneak up silently. “I’m sorry.”

Ed looks up at him. In the dim light that’s spilling out from the hall, he’s just as lovely. “Nothing to be sorry for. Just… stupid fate for us to meet like this, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” He considers for a moment, and then lowers himself onto the adjacent swing. The fit of the seat is a lot tighter than it was when he was small enough to fly on these things, but it’s enough to hold him. “Maybe it’s not all bad.”

Ed’s swing squeaks as he twists a bit. “Thought maybe I was meeting someone who wouldn’t have all the same baggage.”

“We do pride ourselves on a generous carry-on allowance at no extra cost,” Stede says, tongue in cheek.

It does the trick. Ed laughs, and then he sighs. “I’m used to people not wanting to know the real me.”

“Then you haven’t met the right person.” I’m the right person, he wants to say. He tries desperately not to, because… well. “I’m used to very much the same.”

Ed looks up at him slowly. And then he says, “They’re idiots.”

“Exactly! And you’re not an idiot, and I’m not an idiot, and tonight has been the most fun I’ve had in weeks. Months. Maybe ever!” Ed lets out a soft little breath, and Stede decides to lob caution to the wind, let it land wherever it will. He shuffles sideways, stretching the limits of his swing’s chains, until he’s near enough to bump his hip to Ed’s. “You make me happy.”

He starts to lose his traction on the sand beneath his feet at that inopportune moment, because of course he does, but Ed snaps out a hand and grabs his swing, pulls it back in close. “You make me happy, too.”

There’s a long beat where they just stare at each other, as if they’re creating their own light source out here in the dark, glowing with affection. Stede lets a tiny laugh slip free, and so does Ed, and then he’s pulling Stede in even closer.

It’s awkward, with lengths of articulated metal in between them and gravity fighting them both, but he leans in, and Ed leans in, and then they’re kissing.

Ed’s lips are soft, and his little huff of breath is sweet, and his mouth is warm, as he opens up to let Stede in. Stede lets himself have this, gives himself over to it, doesn’t try to fight the way his heart is thundering and his head is spinning.

Loses his footing entirely, and then they’re swinging together, neither of them tethered to earth. They kiss through the forward swing, but the backward swing breaks them apart, and then there’s a whole lot of chaotic twisting and bumping as gravity wins, wrestling them back into submission.

They’re still laughing when they come to a stop, and then it fades.

The suburb’s quiet at this time of night, just the occasional snatch of television noise and a steadily barking dog in the distance. It feels miles and miles away from the life Stede usually leads in the riverside mansion he will be moving out of, just as soon as he can; it feels normal.

Christ knows he could do with more of that. So could Ed.

“Have you ever considered retirement?” Stede asks.

Ed leans his forehead against the swing chain, brows raised. “Nope. Figure I’ll just work myself to death, save the paperwork.”

Stede can’t help but wrinkle his nose. “That seems… unnecessary, actually.” He leans across and waits for a nod of permission before he slides his hand onto Ed’s warm thigh and squeezes. “I personally plan to hand it all off to the nearest responsible person as soon as everything’s stable, and go live.”

Ed takes a shuddery little breath in. “Got it all sussed out, don’t you?”

“Not even close.” Most of the time life feels like those recurring nightmares he used to have in aviation college, hands white-knuckling the yoke as the proverbial plane shakes to pieces around him. “I want to figure it out, though.”

There’s an insane idea circulating in his head, echoes of that question Lucius lobbed in there earlier. Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet, famous pirate captains. An alliance. It’s so insane he can’t bring himself to say it. No, he is going to say it. He is. The worst Ed can say is no, right?

And then he opens his mouth and lets the words out, and Ed speaks the exact same ones at the exact same time, their voices in harmony. “Have you ever considered a merger?”

“Oh,” Stede says, and a startled laugh escapes. “We said the same thing.”

Ed’s gaze is warm, steady. “Must be something to it.”

A merger between airlines, ones that might have been very different in the past, but that have similar dreams now. There’s so much Stede admires about the way Ed tackles things, and so much Ed seems to appreciate about his ideas, and if they worked together, well.

“We wouldn’t have to be rivals,” Stede says. “We could be co-captains.” Twice as many people to shoulder the workload and give them the break they, Ed deserves.

Ed bites his lip. “Think I might like that.”

Tonight has absolutely been a night for laying cards on the table. “Well, in that case, if we’ve moved beyond the rivals phase, perhaps I could ask you on a proper date?”

Ed tugs his swing in again, lets him go, squeaking side to side. “This isn’t a date?”

“It’s a lovely date,” Stede says, and tries to harness a bit more of the boldness he’d been feeling a couple of hours ago. “I thought perhaps somewhere a little bit more… private, might be nice. Possibly directly after this. Like my house. Or yours. Or a hotel? Anywhere.”

Like a hurdler hitting every obstacle as he stumbles down the track, Christ, he’s glad for the darkness to hide the heat in his cheeks.

“Gotta check my diary,” Ed says, voice back to the warm rumble that had first melted Stede from the inside out. “Think I might be free, though.”

Far too loud, he says, “Great!”

Stede goes to wriggle out of his swing and finds it’s moulded itself to his arse in such a comprehensive way that he has to twist himself almost backwards to get out, the very opposite of cool. By the time he’s up, straightening his shirt, Ed’s already slid smoothly out of his swing and is standing right there, which makes Stede’s heart leap.

“Hey,” Ed says.

“Hello,” Stede replies, and opens his arms, one last urgent point of business on his mind. “Do you think I could give you a hug?”

It feels like they both need it just as much, and Ed nods, slides into his arms without hesitation, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. He’s all leather and tobacco and coconut shampoo, and Stede feels like he’s known this man on some kind of soul level all his life.

“One more round of planes to go,” Ed murmurs in his ear.

Stede hums. “I really thought we might tell Lucius where to shove the fucking planes.”

Ed pushes back and looks him in the eye. “Fuck off, no. Reckon we should set the last round ourselves, don’t you?”

Ed’s got a plan here, he can tell, and Stede finds himself grinning with anticipation. “All right. Why not! One last round.”

“Together,” Ed says, and he slides his hands down Stede’s arms, and his hand slips warmly into Stede’s and squeezes. “One team now.”

Chapter Text

“He’s going to murder you with his eyes,” Frenchie says, staring across the room at Stede’s (former) table, where Izzy’s been exiled so that Stede can come sit with Ed. “That can happen, you know, when there’s enough psychic energy directed at a person—”

“Shush,” Fang says. “He’s just a little wet chihuahua, he’ll dry out and get over it.”

Ed doesn’t care what Izzy thinks right now, and he’s not going to let him ruin this. He’s too giddy for that, brain caught in a constant looping barrel roll every time he remembers kissing Stede, kissing him, fuck, this is actually happening. All those fears he had? Gone, replaced with hope, like he hasn’t felt in years.

The last round’s finished, and he didn’t hear a word. Doesn’t even know what the topic was, couldn’t care less. They’re tabulating the final results for the trivia night now, and he and Stede are up for their final paper plane.

Stede’s pressed in close beside him as Archie and Jim exchange a ten dollar bill on the other side of the table, Jim muttering, Archie grinning maniacally.

Stede gives him a nudge. “So, what are we making?”

Ed glances over at him. Has given this a lot of rapid thought, thinks he knows exactly what they need to do. “Thought about the seabird, you know, for the symbolism.”

Stede doesn’t think he’s weird for it. He’s got a feeling Stede wouldn’t think anything was weird about him, up and down all his darkest secrets and his most fun quirks. “Oh, that’s lovely. It’s been away from home too long, looking for a place to land…”

Ed blinks back unexpected tears. “Yeah, that kind of vibe. It’s just… it’s a little simple.”

Stede shrugs. “Sometimes the simplest things are the best things. But you’ve thought of something even better.”

Ed nods. “Something that needs two sets of hands.”

“Yeah?” Stede’s eyes are shining. “Sounds complicated.”

“Definitely is.” Ed lets his arm snake around Stede’s waist and gives him a squeeze. “Lots of folding. Lots of slotting together. But when it’s all merged, it’ll fly further than anything either of us can make on our own.”

“I love that,” Stede says softly. “Show me the way.”

He does. Passes Stede one sheet of paper, keeps the other for himself. For the first few folds, horizontal, vertical, they’re identical. And then Ed’s piece gets the triangular start of the nose, and he slots it together with Stede’s to create one long sheet. A quick tuck fold and they’re even more enmeshed, locked together.

From there it’s pretty easy to finish the nose, the wings, Stede making suggestions, Ed adding his own, tilting up those final winglets, and voila. They’re done.

“The Caravel,” Ed says.

“Just like an old sailing ship,” Stede says, delighted. “Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate sail again.”

Cute bit of history, that. Ed hopes they got real frisky about it back then, because he has so many fucking plans of his own for the rest of the night, and the next week, and the next year, and maybe the rest of his life?

But Stede’s already up, offering him a hand like a real gentleman, pulling him to stand. The murmurs in the room feel different this time as they walk to the starting line, because they’ve been doing this whole falling head over heels thing in front of an audience tonight, and nobody’s missed it.

They could in fact mind their own fucking business, is what they could do. But hey, love is free, and Ed feels freer than he has in years, and that’s fine. He’s the only one who gets to take Stede home tonight. He’s already won.

“I think you should do the honours,” Stede says.

“Nope,” Ed says, and plants the plane gently in his hand. “This is ours, mate. Co-captains, remember?”

Before Stede can protest, Ed takes him by the shoulders and turns the guy to face Lucius, who’s down the other end, lording it over them like the gayest Wizard of Oz, and then Ed slides in behind him.

Feels Stede’s breath catch as Ed circles an arm around his waist, and lifts Stede’s throwing hand with his own, the two of them folded into one..

“Oh,” Stede whispers. “Well, that’s—”

Ed pulls Stede’s hand back, and throws for the both of them.

They’re in perfect alignment, and the plane releases at the exact right moment. It soars, no other way to put it. It’s every good bit of aerodynamics in one, weight and breadth and depth and strength and streamline, all their best combined.

There’s no plane that can go further and do it so gracefully. In fact it goes right past Lucius, still steady at head height, and slips straight out the open window behind him and into the dark.

There’s a moment of total silence, and then the room erupts into applause. Stede leans back into him, laughing, and fuck it. Ed spins him around, pulls him in, and kisses him in front of everyone.

The cheers get even louder, a few wolf whistles thrown in for good measure, and when he breaks away he can see the same exhilaration written all over Stede’s face.

“Co-captains,” Stede says breathlessly. “We’re really doing this?”

Ed nods. “I am if you are. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t,” Stede says. “I’m all in.”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that we all won tonight,” Lucius says, voice booming through the speakers. “We’ll call that another tie, shall we, since they made it together?”

There’s a round of affirmative cheers, and Ed pulls a middle finger at the guy, and they’re finally free to go back to their table for the results.

Zheng’s team’s won it, of course, miles ahead of everyone else. In the end Ed’s table and Stede’s have tied for second place, though they decline to do another tie-breaker—fuck, Ed’s done with those—and agree to split second and third prizes between them.

When all the announcements have been made, Pete calls for three cheers for Lucius, and everyone delivers, because it really has been a great night.

“He’ll be so relieved, he’s been planning this for months,” Archie says, and Jim bumps her with their shoulder. “What?” She sees the look on Jim’s face and scoffs. “Nah, yeah, I meant the quiz night, obviously.”

Stede’s staring at her, eyes narrowed. “Did you?”

“Definitely,” Frenchie says, a little too loud. “Nobody planned anything else, definitely not.”

Ed can feel the laughter bubbling up, because the way they’re all looking so shifty-eyed gives the game away completely. “Fang?”

His old mate’s a terrible liar, and he knows it. He goes wide-eyed with panic for a second, then immediately gives up under the weight of Ed’s stare. “All right, boss, but were we wrong? We all knew you’d be perfect for each other. Just had to put you in the same place, give you something to connect over. When we heard you both brag up your paper planes Lu knew exactly what he had to do, and—”

“God,” Stede says, rubbing both hands over his face. “I don’t know whether to thank you all or fire you all.”

“Lucky for us, we work for Ed,” Archie says smugly, rocking back in her chair.

Ed grins at her. “Yeah, about that...”

It’s chaos, as the rest of the people file out of the room, and Stede’s people come over and get chatting with Ed’s crew, and in the middle of all the mayhem, Stede slides his hand into Ed’s like a promise.

Like the calm space in the eye of a hurricane, no matter how crazy things are about to get in their lives, they’ve got each other now. Ed’s got a whole new bucket list to figure out, and hey, maybe a weekly list, too. A daily one.

He already knows exactly what to put at the top.

He squeezes Stede’s hand and leans in. “Want to get out of here?”

“Oh, yes.” Stede’s smile is everything he needs. “Let’s fly away.”