Chapter Text
Stede’s POV:
“Wait, wait, wait, what?!” Stede bursts out later that night, voice pitching high with disbelief as he stares at Ed from the couch. “You’re telling me my mother’s ex-lover is here, in Cannonford?”
“Sounds like it,” Ed says with a shrug, brushing an unruly curl back from Stede’s forehead like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
They’re curled together on the couch, Ed slouched with his feet propped on the coffee table, Stede angled toward him with his legs draped across Ed’s thighs. Stede had already told his mother he’d be spending the night at Lucius’s, so he’s free to stay here as long as he likes. For Ed, that’s a rare gift, an entire night. These stolen hours are too precious to waste.
“Ed, what you’re proposing sounds… extremely dangerous,” Stede says, reaching for his hand and squeezing tight. “It could work, but what if Vincent finds out you’re double-crossing him? He’ll kill you.” His voice gets more serious. “He’ll kill you, Ed.”
“And he’ll kill me if he finds out I’ve been fucking his son, too,” Ed says, tugging Stede closer, wrapping his arms around his waist until Stede slides easily into his lap. “Stede, nothing we do here is safe. Nothing is guaranteed. But this… this feels like our best chance. And he gave me the name of the woman your mum was in love with…”
A smile tugs at Ed’s mouth, a spark of mischief mixed with hope, and it makes Stede tilt his head in curiosity. He can’t imagine who it could be. His mother had ended that affair long before he was even born.
“You know our new friend, Jackie?” Ed says.
Stede’s brows knit in confusion, until the realization hits him.
“Wait. Jackie? Jackie of Spanish Jackie’z ?” His eyes widen, shock flashing across his face. “Oh my god!” He grips Ed’s arms with sudden intensity. “Ed, I knew she always looked at me strangely! She knows I’m Sarah’s son!”
“She likes you,” Ed says. “And me. Which means we’ve already got a foot in the door. And if she’s here, I’d bet good money she still has feelings for your mother. So I think she’ll want to help us, especially if we help her take Vincent down.”
The thought sends a thrill through Stede’s chest. Knowing it’s Jackie— their Jackie—and that she’s already in their lives changes everything. It’s not some stranger they’ll have to coax into trust. She already knows them. If they could join forces, topple Vincent together, then everyone would be free. It feels like the first glimmer of a future unchained, and it makes too much sense not to chase it.
“Stede…” Ed’s voice drops, softer now, tinged with something fragile. Almost fearful.
He pauses, gaze darting away as if the words burn his tongue. His stomach tightens, his whole body drawn taut. Whatever’s clawing at him, it’s heavy, and Stede knows he has to hear it.
“What is it, love?” Stede asks gently, fingers tracing along Ed’s jaw, coaxing his face back toward him.
Ed meets his eyes at last. “You know… if we continue down this path, at the end of this, there’s a good chance your father could die, right?”
The words land like a blow. They shouldn’t… not really. Stede despises his father. He’s spent years watching that man’s cruelty, living with his iron grip. He’s supposed to feel nothing other than loathing, but the words still cut deep. Because as much as he hates Vincent, he’s still his father. He’s supposed to love him. That’s what sons do. Isn’t it?
But the truth sits in his chest like a stone: he doesn’t. Not in any true sense of the word. He never has. And so the question claws at him, raw and merciless. If he doesn’t love his own father, then why does the thought of his death hurt so much?
“If you’re not okay with that, we can go the Ricky route,” Ed says quietly. “But I don’t trust him. I don’t trust he wouldn’t throw you, or me, or both of us under the bus if it came down to it. And using Ricky means your father would most likely end up in prison instead.”
“But you said yourself that even prison wouldn’t stop Vincent from hurting us,” Stede replies. “And you’re right.”
Ed nods but says nothing, eyes steady on him, giving him room to wrestle with the thought. And it’s then the truth dawns on Stede. The reason his father’s death weighs so heavily isn’t because he cares; it’s because he doesn’t. He’s never had a father, not really. Just an authority figure looming over him, wielding fear like a weapon.
The ache in his chest is grief for something he never had. And the fact that the idea of Vincent dying feels almost like relief? That’s the heartbreak of it. It shouldn’t be this way… but it is.
And none of it is his fault. Vincent carved that distance himself. Stede knows that, logically. But it doesn’t make the hollow ache any less real.
He tries to explain it, fumbling for words, spilling the weight of it into the quiet between them. Ed listens without interruption, one hand tracing slow, steady circles on his back, grounding him. When Stede finishes, Ed gathers him into his arms and holds him tight.
“I’m so, so sorry, Stede,” he murmurs against his hair. “There are no words I can say to take that pain away, but I’m just so fucking sorry.”
And Stede knows he means it. Knows Ed understands in a way few ever could. He’s heard the stories: dark shards of Ed’s childhood, of a father who carved wounds instead of offering love. Stories that had given Stede nightmares, imagining a small Ed forced to survive them.
Ed carries that same scar. The same emptiness. And though Stede hates that he’s endured it, there’s comfort in the kinship, in knowing they aren’t alone in their brokenness. They’re bound together by pain, yes, but also by the fierce love that’s bloomed in its wake.
And gods, he loves him for it. Loves him so much it aches.
“If we go this route, what’re we going to do about Ricky?” Stede asks, pulling away from the hug enough to meet Ed’s eyes.
There’s so much left to untangle. As much as Stede longs to sink into the comfort of holding him, or let Ed drag him into bed and erase their troubles for a few hours, they can’t. Not yet.
“He’s going to be a problem if I don’t work with him,” Stede continues. “And I don’t want him targeting you.”
Ed leans back, thoughtful, a faint crease between his brows. “Well… I’m pretty sure Ricky wasn’t supposed to tell you he’s a fed. That little slip gives us leverage. We just need to use it. Find a way to get him pulled off the investigation, make him look unreliable.”
Stede exhales, conceding the point. It’s dangerous, but clever. It’s very Ed.
“Maybe Jackie will have ideas about that too,” Stede says after a beat, and Ed nods, the ghost of a grin tugging at his lips.
For the first time in what feels like forever, Stede feels a real spark of hope. As they talk, the shape of a future without Vincent begins to take form. It’s faint, like pencil lines sketched across a page, but there. A life where he and Ed could exist without shadows, without fear. Just the two of them in love, allowed to be.
“Can I play you something?” Ed asks after a long pause, reaching for the guitar resting on its stand. He drops back onto the couch beside Stede, the wood cradled in his arms. “I’ve been… working on this song. And I was hoping you’d sing it for me. You’ve got the better voice between us.”
A delighted smile blooms across Stede’s face. He settles back against the cushions, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap. A little thrill hums through him at the thought. He hasn’t heard a single note of Ed’s music yet. Ever since Ed first told him he was a songwriter, he’s been aching for this moment.
But there’s always been something else in the way. The thought of finally getting to hear Ed’s heart in song is thrilling.
He begins the tune, a soft, melodic string of notes spilling into the dim apartment, and Stede’s heart swells with every chord. He already loves it before Ed’s even opened his mouth. Then Ed starts to sing, and Stede gasps softly, realization striking him like a tide. This isn’t just any song. Ed wrote this for him.
Starling, on the wire at dawn
Bruised by the night but the night is gone
All of your silence, all of your scars
Fade in the glow of the morning stars
The words hang in the air, raw and unpolished in a way that makes them all the more beautiful. Stede feels them strike straight through him, a truth laid bare in melody.
Ed keeps strumming, voice rough-edged but steady. Stede sits frozen, lips parted, his throat tight. For all the danger crowding their lives, for all the shadows pressing in, this moment feels impossibly pure.
He’s never been loved like this… and it’s almost overwhelming.
Starling, rise and sing
Every shadow’s just a passing wing
Starling, find your sky
You were born to fall, but you learned to fly
The melody lingers, soft but unyielding, and Stede feels the emotion press against his ribs until it aches. Is this the way Ed sees him? Fragile, perhaps, but resilient. Someone who’s fallen, stumbled, been beaten down, and still found a way to soar?
His throat tightens, eyes stinging as the thought settles heavy in his chest. He’s not used to someone knowing him so thoroughly. Not his father, who’s only ever measured his worth in obedience. Not by anyone, really. But Ed… he looks at him and sees strength. Sees someone worth writing songs about.
It’s almost too much, sitting here with Ed’s voice carrying those words through the little apartment, guitar strings vibrating against the silence. He wants to laugh, to cry, to throw his arms around him and never let go.
Starling, through the bitter rain
Carried the weight of a world in pain
But the storm has broken, the air is clear
Every note you sing is what brought you here
Starling, rise and sing
Every shadow’s just a passing wing
Starling, find your sky
You were born to fall, but you learned to fly
The melody swells, shifting beneath Ed’s fingers, carrying them toward the bridge. The notes bend softer, more searching, like the song itself is holding its breath. He watches Ed’s face in the low light, the focus in his brow, the way he leans into the instrument, the rough warmth in his voice, and Stede thinks this is the most beautiful he’s ever been.
The branches bend, the cold wind cries
But you keep your eyes on the open skies
Every wound a lost feather, every tear a song
Every beat of your heart says you still belong
The song shifts, the chords leaning toward their close, and Stede can’t hold back anymore. The tears brim, then spill over, sliding hot down his cheeks as Ed’s voice fills the room. He presses a hand against his mouth, trying to steady himself, but it’s no use. The song has torn him open in the gentlest, most devastating way.
Starling, rise and sing
Every shadow’s just a passing wing
Starling, find your sky
You were born to fall, but you learned to fly
The final chord lingers, vibrating through the small apartment, before it fades into quiet. Stede’s breath comes uneven, his chest aching with a mix of awe, grief, and something deeper than he’s ever known.
He looks at Ed, eyes shining, and all he can think is how much of an honor it would be to give voice to these words, to carry the melody that Ed wrote for him.
“Ed… that was beautiful,” Stede says softly as Ed rests the guitar against the couch. He shifts closer, almost without thinking, drawn into the warmth of Ed. “Is that… really how you see me?”
Ed scoots nearer, too, gathering Stede into his arms, pressing a kiss against his temple. He doesn’t answer right away, and the silence makes Stede’s heart pound.
“I’m not an idiot,” Stede murmurs, filling the quiet. “I know how privileged I am. I always felt like such a spoiled brat for hating my life. People are literally starving, and I was wishing for a way out of this world.”
“Stede.” Ed pulls back just enough to look him in the eye, his expression steady, intent. “You’re not that person. You’re one of the strongest, most resilient people I’ve ever known. Yeah, you had privilege. But your life has been far from easy. You never got the love or support a child should get. And even through all that, you survived. You’re brilliant, you’re kind, you’re fiery, and you don’t give up. Of course that’s how I see you, love.”
The words settle over Stede like a balm, quieting the ache he hadn’t even realized he was carrying.
“I love it,” Stede whispers, brushing his lips lightly against Ed’s. “And it would be an honor to sing it.”
“Yeah?” Ed murmurs against his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips. “You mean it?”
“Of course, I do,” Stede replies with a breathless laugh.
“I want you,” Ed growls, pulling Stede onto his lap, fingers weaving into his waves and guiding him into a kiss that’s deeper, hungrier.
“You have me,” Stede breathes against his lips, kissing him back with equal measure. “Fuck, Ed, I’m yours.”
Ed’s arms wrap tight around his waist, shifting him down onto the couch, pressing close. His mouth finds Stede’s again, fierce and consuming, and Stede moans into it, every nerve alive with the weight of Ed’s body pinning him safely beneath. He feels claimed, cherished, set alight.
He clutches fistfuls of Ed’s shirt, pulling him closer, as if he could somehow collapse the space between them entirely. His mind spins with one realization. He’s young, yes, but he knows, with a certainty that leaves him dizzy: Ed is it. There will never be another.
His heart races, every point of contact sparking like fire through him, and he soaks in the moment as though it’s all he’ll ever need. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Just then, a scraping sound from the bookcase cuts through the room, breaking the kiss. Ed jerks upright, heart pounding, while Stede leaps from the couch, terror slicing through him like lightning. Someone had found the secret passage? Had Buttons betrayed them?
But then Buttons emerges, eyes wide, dazed as ever, but deadly serious.
“You have to go, laddie,” he says, gaze fixed on Stede. “Ned is on his way here.”
“Shit!” Stede blurts, scanning the room frantically for his coat.
Ed’s already got it, rushing to his side and shoving it into his hands. “Go to Lucius’s. If anyone sees you in the house, tell them you forgot something and came back to fetch it. If you don’t run into anyone, slip out through the back garden; there are no cameras there.”
Stede presses in for one last kiss, quick but searing, their foreheads resting together. “I love you,” he whispers, voice breaking.
“I love you,” Ed replies, before pushing him away gently. “Go, Stede.”
The order cuts like glass. Their evening shattered, dread coils through Stede’s chest. Worse than the disappointment is the fear. Why is Ned coming? Has he found out about them? Fuck… what if he does know ?
“I’m scared,” Stede admits, pausing at the threshold of the bookcase. Buttons is already inside the passage, gesturing urgently. Stede turns back, eyes wide, voice trembling. “Ed, I’m really scared.”
Ed surges forward, grabbing him, crushing their mouths together in a desperate kiss. Stede clings to him, head spinning, terrified this could be their last.
“Everything will be okay,” Ed murmurs when he pulls back, holding Stede’s face in both hands. His dark eyes burn with conviction, and for a moment Stede believes him. He believes it, even though the weight of who his father is presses down like a vice. “I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. I promise.”
And Stede knows he will. Ed would fight the world before breaking a promise to him. That knowledge steadies him just enough to move. With tears streaming hot down his cheeks, he turns and slips into the passageway, pulling the bookcase shut behind him, the sound sealing them apart.
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