Chapter Text
They lived in their new home for a full three months before shit got really weird, which they both agreed afterwards was a surprisingly good record.
Retirement. It had been Stede's idea in the first place, back on the very day they'd met, but he'd never thought about applying it to himself.
After all, his own business affairs had always troubled him very little. First his father kept him out of the family finances as long as he could, and then after he died there was an estate manager who kept things ticking along very well provided Stede signed a few things now and then and turned a blind eye to the chap's small-scale embezzlement. In short, there had been very little for Stede to retire from.
And he hadn't entered piracy with a long-term plan. This had been eminently clear to his crew from the start, and that truth had also caught up to Stede soon enough. Piracy had been the end goal in itself; it was what he was escaping to, not something he might eventually want to quit.
But it hadn't ever been about piracy really, had it? He just hadn't understood back then what it was that he was searching for.
It was pure luck that he'd found it anyway, but at least he knew it was worth holding on to now.
And retirement, as it turned out, suited him and Ed right from the first day. None of it should work, probably, but somehow it did.
It began that first night.
The plan was to sort out the source of the smell and then go hunting. Well, they found the source under a rotten floorboard quickly enough, and the less said about that the better. It took the best part of an hour to remove the rather sad mess and make some effort to start clearing things up - though at least the hole in the ceiling would help with airing things out, as Stede observed brightly - but in the course of their efforts, Stede fell into the hole in the floor once and managed to make another hole just by stepping on a rotten plank of wood. They did at least find that the house had been built close to a river around the back, so they were sorted for water and washing and even bathing, though Stede already lamented the absence of a bathtub.
And by the time they'd finished what they could for the time being, Ed made the mistake of trying to sit down in a dining chair, only for it to quite literally just collapse under him.
Stede froze where he stood. They were both sweaty and tired, and he felt rather like the smell had permeated every fibre of his clothes. They were hungry, and hadn't managed to go hunting after all, and now it was getting dark. And Ed just sat there, sprawled on the floor in a pile of rotten, woodworm-eaten wreckage.
Stede felt his breathing turn erratic, and his chest seemed to constrict. It was a disaster. What if Ed changed his mind? What if Ed wanted to leave, but it was too late because the ship had gone and he was stuck here in this ruined house with Stede? What if Ed didn't think it was a fixer-upper, what if he didn't think it was worth the effort after all? What if there was just too much rot for it to be worth trying?
Ed looked up at him. He blinked several times quickly. And then he said, rather plaintively, "Ow."
And before Stede could muster any words at all, Ed started to laugh.
No, not laugh. Giggle.
Ed was giggling as though this was the funniest thing that had ever happened to him. Like he was drunk, or tired in that two-in-the-morning kind of way, or like he was with a whole group of his best friends and everything anyone said was helplessly, breathlessly funny.
He didn't sound like a man with regrets.
Stede couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Ed laugh like that, but it was the best thing he'd ever heard.
Relief and the contagiousness of Ed's happiness sent Stede giggling too - tentatively at first, and then whole-heartedly as his own laughter seemed to send Ed into further cycles of delight.
"Oh, Ed," he said, dropping carefully into a crouch next to him - the last thing they needed was more holes in the floor. "Are you alright?"
"Fuck no, man, I've got an arse full of splinters," Ed gasped out, but then he was snickering again. "I think this house might be trying to kill us."
"Only a little," Stede said. He felt almost shaky with the force of his relief. "We all just need to get to know one another, that's all. Give it a little love."
"Yeah, you need to learn to talk things through, mate!" Ed called up at the ceiling, through which it was now possible to see stars growing bright in the purpling sky. "I don't think we can sleep in here tonight, babe. At this rate it's gonna turn out something already lives in that bed and it's gonna try to bite our faces off."
Babe. Was it ridiculous, the way that Stede's heart leapt at how easily endearments flowed off of Ed's tongue? Mate had become babe so naturally, so seamlessly, that it was like the former had only ever been a placeholder meant for something more.
Stede would quite literally do anything for Ed. He'd known that for a long time but the promise of it had never felt so easy as it did just then: seeing Ed in the ruins of this house they'd decided to make their own, wiping tears of laughter away from his eyes, so full of joy when he had so many reasons to be unhappy or frustrated.
Ed was choosing happiness. He was choosing to want to be there even though it wasn't going to be easy.
He was choosing to be with Stede.
"I'm rather fond of sleeping under the stars," Stede said, feeling as soft and tender as the brush of silk against skin, and offered his hand to help Ed up.
So that first night, they built a little fire on the field outside the house, and Stede threw the remains of the malevolent chair onto it with great prejudice while Ed ripped out and burned the rotten floorboards Stede had fallen through. It turned out that Ed did not in fact have splinters in his arse because leather trousers were surprisingly good renovation gear, though Stede triple checked just to be sure because he was a good partner like that.
"Here," he said, rifling through some of the things they'd brought with them off the ship. "I'm glad your leather helped, but these might be more comfy to sleep in." He offered out a shirt and trousers. "Only cotton, I'm afraid. I don't have much in the way of fine fabrics any more."
"I don't mind." Ed took the clothes, rubbing the cloth between his fingers as if it was something much nicer. He swayed, uncertain, like he was considering saying something, then seemed to decide in favour of it. "I like wearing your things. Fancy or not. I like them 'cause they're yours. It's like you're always there with me."
Oh.
If Stede's heart got any more full, there was a real concern that it might just explode.
"And I know you are with me now," Ed said, as though Stede's beat of silence had already been too long, "I didn't mean, it's just, it's still nice, I guess. Whatever."
"Yeah," Stede said, and rested his hand on top of Ed's on the little bundle of clothes. "I think I know just what you mean."
Ed's hand turned over, fingers twisting around Stede's. "You should have something of mine."
"Oh, I don't need-"
"It's not always about need, babe. Do you want something?"
It was funny, sometimes, remembering that it was alright to admit to the things he wanted. To get his head around the idea that Ed wanted to hear about it, that he wouldn't laugh or call Stede soft - or rather that soft was a good thing, that wanting gentle things was nothing to be ashamed of. At least here, with Ed, and no one there to mock him.
"I did like it when we swapped clothes before," Stede admitted. The words came out quietly, but they did come, so he felt like that was a win.
And he had. Even all the way back then he'd liked wearing Ed's clothes. The idea of doing it now, when it really meant something, when they were both on the same page...
"Leather's no better for you than me in the heat, though," Ed said, looking down at himself with a self-critical scowl. "Oh, hang on."
He set the clothes down with more care than such cheap fabrics really deserved, and then he was undoing his necklace.
"Ed! Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I mean. If you want."
Stede smiled. He did feel soft, in all the best ways - like a fresh pillow, a new suit, the petal of a flower. "I'd love to."
Ed ducked his head, but he looked pleased. "Turn around."
Ed put the necklace on him himself, hands brushing against the back of Stede's neck, settling the beads into place on his collarbone; it was still warm from Ed's skin, and Stede felt breathless with it. And then those hands were on his shoulders and Stede was turning. He wasn't sure who went moved in first, or maybe they both had the same thought at the same time, but then they were kissing. Not a nervous, startled kiss; not a wild and desperate one either. This was slow, and sweet, like a swaying dance to a familiar song or a conversation whispered in the quiet just before dawn.
They settled down in front of the fire on a blanket later, both in comfortable clothes, and shared a small feast of sandwiches. The crew had sent them with a decent amount of supplies, quite loudly expressing the opinion that they would not be able to fend for themselves; Stede had been offended at the time, but evidence thus far did rather support the theory. They shared an orange, too, feeding each other slices in a way that would have sent the crew into an outcry of retching noises, but this was their home now and they could be as sappy as they damn well pleased.
The whole time, Stede kept finding his hand drifting back to the necklace. It was made up of dozens of tiny, pearlescent beads on a gold wire, and he didn't know if they were stones or painted wood or maybe they really were tiny pearls but the value of it didn't matter in any case. What mattered was that he knew how it looked around Ed's neck and now it was around his, and there was love in that, and in the way that Ed kept fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"I'm so glad I'm here with you, Ed," he whispered when the fire had burned itself down to glowing coals and the stars were huge and bright overhead. "Whether we're pirates or innkeepers or nothing at all. I love you so much."
The stars were lovely, but they were nothing to the brightness of Ed's eyes. "I love you too," Ed said, and shuffled closer so that they were pressed together shoulder to foot, their fingers overlapping on the blanket behind them. "Nowhere I'd rather be."
Stede had spent so much time sure that he would ruin Ed's life by being in it. Even trying to come back to him, he'd been terrified that it was a mistake even though he could see what things had been like for Ed without him. It had just been such an impossible concept that he, of all people, could impact someone so much that his loss would hurt them. He had never really believed that his presence might make things better.
It was a journey, a process, overwriting that mindset. He still felt himself slipping sometimes, and maybe always would a bit. At least he was learning to notice now, and not just believe the worst of himself without question.
Right then and there, he heard the truth in Ed's voice, and he found himself able to give Ed the respect of believing it. Of believing how deeply Ed must love him, to care so much.
To believe, even, that maybe it was possible that Ed loved him with as much terrible, beautiful strength as he loved Ed.
That night, the moon cast a shimmering silver pathway from the shore right out to the horizon, a light that shone like treasure on the sea. Neither of them felt the urge to follow it. They fell asleep looking at each other instead.
They weren't too sure how to go about the renovations at first. Some things were straightforward enough; there was a tree growing through one of the windows and up out of the roof, and that was a problem that could be resolved (if rather slowly) with the little hatchet that was among the things they'd taken from the ship. Similarly, it wasn't too hard to identify the more rotten wood - Stede had a particular skill in that area, as it seemed - so they stripped that out and sorted through the odds and ends left behind. There was a bed frame of fair size that was still in good order, but the mattress had a tendency to crumble when they moved it, so that got tossed onto a fire too. There was a decent set of kitchenware, and the dining table was still good, though they treated the remaining chairs with caution.
All that was well and good, but it still left them with the basic structure of a house that was almost more hole than not, no timber to rebuild it with, and not really enough tools for the task either.
"So it'll take some time," Ed said on the third day, shrugging. He was wearing more of the clothes Stede had packed, his leather folded away into a box. He still had his dagger belted at his waist, but he was lounging barefoot on the grass doing something complicated with a pile of palm leaves. "We can work with that. Technically we still have to figure out what innkeepers actually do. That's the mistake I made with fishing, anyway."
Stede, settled comfortably on the grass beside Ed, paused in his own work. They hadn't really spoken about Ed's brief career as a fisherman. It was one of the many things that had fallen by the wayside, subsumed in the argument that had preceded it and all that had happened after.
"You didn't like it?"
"I mean, I kinda did," Ed said, shrugging. His hands were moving deft and fast. He was weaving, Stede realised, entranced by the repetitive, expert motions. "But I also wasn't technically being a fisherman. By the strictest definition. In the sense that I may not have actually caught any fish."
"Ah."
"I kinda enjoyed just... being, you know? I guess I'm kinda shit at being quiet to be honest but I was trying to do what Fang said and just sit with myself." Ed shrugged. "Like this, really. This is what I wanted."
This. This, which was nothing at all really, just the two of them sitting, half-working, half-idle, just... together.
"I'm glad you're here, then," Stede said softly. "Glad we both are."
He'd said it before, but maybe it didn't matter if he repeated himself - if they both said it a hundred times. Maybe it was just something that was nice to hear, because Ed's face did that lovely thing where the gravest of the shadows on it brightened, smoothing out doubt and unhappiness, his eyes seeming to smile all on their own.
"And besides, I hear you get great reviews as an innkeeper," Stede said, bolstered by this encouragement. "Five out of five stars every time."
"Not totally sure reviews from you count, babe," Ed said, but he was clearly grinning now even as he ducked his head down and let his hair fall over his face. "You're biased. Not a reliable reviewer."
"Actually, I think I've got more accurate information than anyone else."
"Shut up," Ed said in a tone of voice that plainly meant the exact opposite. "Besides, you're getting six stars. Seven, even. Maybe seven and a half."
"Seven and a half? Well, that's pretty good. And I might deserve it, I'm expanding the lunch menu."
"I can see that." Ed set down his work and peered closer. "What is all this?"
"Well, there's the mangos and papayas there, of course, and then I found this gorgeous crop of oyster mushrooms, and I noticed a patch of sweet potatoes too. I've only taken a little of each for now, naturally - and look! Coffee cherries! If we dry the beans out we can offer our guests morning coffee. That's the kind of thing that'll set our inn apart, I should think."
So many of Stede's dreams had centred on the sea that he'd never really thought all that much about a new life on land beyond everything he'd known of the wealthy lifestyle. Somehow it was only when he went for a stroll that morning - without Ed, who'd waved him off while muttering something about palm trees - that he'd started to really absorb the fact that he recognised a lot of these plants. The fruit, obviously, but also a lot of the trees and bushes and even the delicate little leaves indicating where the sweet potato was growing wild. All that reading, those years of study that no one else found interesting at all, and all of it had led to this: that he could bring food to the man he loved.
He'd been so afraid that he had nothing to offer Ed outside piracy. He still was, a little. But Ed had chosen him even when he'd been a disaster of a pirate. And Stede was still sure that it wasn't his brief prowess in the field that had driven Ed away (regardless of Ned Low's shitty opinion), but rather that Ed had been afraid of the exact same thing. They were both scared of not being enough for each other, and yet here they were: with next to nothing to their names, happy just in each other's company.
"And if we set aside some land, we could plant and grow our own veggies closer to the house," he went on. "Probably not viable for the fruit trees, it would take years to get a grove like the one I found and it was quite close by anyway, but the veg, certainly, and... Are you alright, Ed?"
Ed's eyes were watering, and his cheeks were flushed. Stede started to reach for him anxiously, then froze.
"Oh, god, Ed, you're not allergic to any of this, are you? Shit, I'll get rid of it all, I didn't even think-"
"No, Stede, fuck, don't you dare." Despite his denial, Ed's voice was thick and choked up, and worry felt like it was choking Stede in turn.
"Are you sure? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." Ed shook his head. And Stede finally realised that past the shine in his eyes was something like wonder, and it was all focused on Stede. What an impossible way to have someone look at him. What an astonishing, breathtaking thing. "I'm fucking fantastic, Stede. Tell me about your plants, okay?"
And Stede still wasn't sure he understood what was happening, but Ed was smiling at him and he didn't seem to be having trouble breathing or anything so maybe this was okay - maybe this was better than okay? So Stede talked Ed through everything he'd found, the plants he was sure of and the ones he hadn't picked because he wasn't quite sure enough, and the gorgeous bird he'd seen when he was leaping up for mangoes, and exactly how long it had taken him to reach the fruit and that he was pretty sure the bird had been laughing at him at one point.
And Ed listened to it all, laughed and smiled and was gratifyingly impressed, and by the time Stede had finished speaking Ed held out what he'd been working on.
It was a basket. Sturdy and large and neatly woven from palm leaves, and really quite a beautiful object.
"Oh, that's brilliant! I had no idea you knew how to do that."
"I know a lot of things," Ed said, shrugging with a casual air, but Stede could tell he was pleased. "I spent a weird month on this one island once, long story, nice bunch of people. Learned quite a bit. I figured they'd be useful, anyway, for storing stuff, but you could use them for foraging. Should be strong enough to bring things back to the house."
Stede felt a pressure in his chest that almost hurt, it was so full and bright and wonderful. "It's perfect," he said, and - even though they were already home - piled his finds from the day into the basket at once. "Absolutely perfect."
"Yeah," Ed said softly. "Yeah, it'll do."
They could do this, Stede decided there and then. They could do anything they put their minds to.
He was in love. He'd known that for a long while now, of course, but he kept going back to the thought, admiring it from different angles like a fine new outfit or precious stone. We just pass the time so well - that was what Mary had said. Well, Stede had never in his life passed time with more easy joy than this.
"We're going to be the best innkeepers in the world."
They were on a walk together on the eighth day when things really picked up a notch.
Stede had wandered off into the trees, pursuing a trail of interesting leaves or something. Ed would have followed him, but Stede had veered off the overgrown trail right at the point where a beautiful patch of flowers was growing, and Ed's eyes were drawn to them. They were bright, bold shades of orange and purple, but between his careful fingers their petals were delicate and smooth.
He could give Stede some flowers. It would be a nice splash of colour in the house, the kind of outdoors that was meant to come indoors, unlike that tree they'd finally evicted. He liked the thought of how Stede would smile at him when presented with the gift, because that kind of thing always made him smile, especially when it came from Ed.
And he liked the idea of laying one of them on Izzy's grave. He'd noticed that Stede had started to place little stones on top of the bare soil. When Ed had asked about it, Stede seemed a little unsure of Ed's reaction at first, but he'd said that he'd been looking for the shiniest, prettiest pebble he could find on each of his walks and setting one there every day.
"I'm not really sure why," he'd said sheepishly. "Just seemed like the thing to do. I suppose he'd have said something unpleasant about it."
Maybe. Well, he probably would, actually, because that was Izzy's default setting. But that didn't mean he'd have been thinking something unpleasant, not in the latter days. He might not have admitted it to a soul, but Ed rather thought he'd have liked the gesture. And the stones really were pretty; Stede had clearly polished them up to the best shine he could, and there were little bits of quartz and sea glass in there that sparkled prettily when the sun hit them.
A flower or two would sit nicely with that, Ed thought.
There was the same tug in his chest that there always was when he thought about Izzy. A very old resentment, and a sort of hatred for someone who'd reflected back a mirror image of what he hated most about himself and forced him to feel that that was all he was; and yet, too, an affection for his oldest companion and ally, his family, for as complicated as that concept was, and someone who might have become a genuine friend - by the real definition, not the pirate one. Things had been really fucked up there by the end, but Ed missed him all the same. Missed what they might have been able to build.
It was another scar on top of a lifetime of them. He couldn't really say how healed it felt. But he was learning to look at it, and that felt like something to be proud of. And he liked that he was the kind of person now who could think about laying a flower on someone's grave and not be ashamed of it.
He was the kind of guy who could be an innkeeper, not a pirate. A basket weaver. A house builder, if they ever figured out what to do about the fact that they only had half a house.
The house. There was no denying that Ed had still been feeling uncertain about the whole thing. Not for his own part, he'd live in half a house or no house at all if it meant he got to stay with Stede. He'd live in a wasp nest if he had to, although that sounded like it would get painful and impractical quite quickly. He'd figure out a way.
But Stede... Look, Ed knew Stede was less bothered about the rich people stuff than he might have thought once. He clearly liked all of it - not the people, but the clothes, the books, the furnishings, the fancy bath stuff - but he'd renounced it all twice, quite definitively the second time by all accounts.
Thing is though, there was more than one way to be rich, and Stede had maybe been on the cusp of fairly successful piracy. He'd got the fame side well underway, and if Blackbeard was proof of anything it was that fame did most of the job for you. Stede could have been about to embark on quite a successful period of his career, and maybe he'd have got bored of it like Ed had, or maybe he'd have ridden the high of the adventure and the wealth for a long time.
And he'd given all of it up, and his ship and his crew alongside, just because Ed had asked him to.
Stede loved him. He knew that. But to let go of a dream like that was big, and he had hated himself for it but he'd been wondering if Stede really meant to stay, or if he was hoping Ed would change his mind.
Maybe that wasn't a fair thought, but love wasn't always fair, was it?
And then the coffee cherries. The fucking coffee fruit.
The fucking coffee that nearly made him cry on the spot because that wasn't just pissing around, joking about the idea of opening an inn, maybe serious, maybe not. That was real. That was Stede making real plans for a future together, groundwork that would take months or years to realise, for an inn that didn't exist yet but would one day. Same with the vegetable patch. You didn't plant vegetables unless you meant to be around for the harvest. You didn't start, as Stede had that week, clearing a patch of earth and marking out a vegetable patch that neatly unless you intended it to outlast the coming harvest and still be feeding you the next year, and the next.
Stede was serious about this. About the inn. About Ed.
Ed had known, but he hadn't known. And now he did.
That was worth a few flowers. It was worth all the flowers on the island, but he would only take a few to make sure they'd still be around the next time he wanted to give some to his boyfriend.
He'd just got a really nice little bouquet together when he heard a crashing through the undergrowth like the movement of a large animal, and then a frantic voice yelling his name.
"Ed! ED!"
Ed's pistol was in his hand faster than thought. He was on his feet - he didn't remember standing - and charging off the path, racing towards the voice. Branches slapped at him, roots tried to tangle his feet, fucking nature, and then Stede almost crashed into him, grabbing Ed's shoulders at the last minute and steadying them both before they went tumbling to the floor.
"Stede! What's happened? Are you hurt? Is someone out there?"
"Ed!" Stede's face was bright and flushed and his eyes were huge. "Ed, I found something amazing!"
"You. What."
"Back there, I - Ed, your gun. Did something happen?"
"You fuckin' tell me, man, you came charging out of the forest like it was on fire!"
"Oh, shit, no," Stede said, making a face. "Did I scare you? I'm sorry."
"Scared, man, no, I wasn't..." Ed looked down at the pistol in his hand and sighed. He set it back into its holster on his belt, and decided that maintaining eye contact with the ground was the best course of action. "Okay, yeah, maybe."
"I'm so sorry. I didn't even think. Nothing happened, Ed, I'm alright."
"Yeah, I know. I can see." Nope, there was no way he could pretend to sound cool about this; he knew it, and the way Stede had his nose scrunched up and his eyes all gentle showed that he knew it too. Ed's heart was still pounding, and his legs felt slightly shaky with adrenaline that had nowhere to go. But the feeling of relief was overwhelming. Stede was okay, and they weren't going to have to fight here; they weren't about to lose this home to the kind of violence that had stalked his life. "I'm just glad no one's trying to kill you."
"Not at the moment," Stede said, and it was a pretty crap joke, all things considered, but Ed found his heart calming down anyway.
"So what did happen?"
"Oh! I found the most incredible thing."
"Looks like a coconut, babe."
"You - what?" Stede blinked, then looked down at the basket still hanging from his elbow. "Oh, yeah, I found a coconut!"
"I am so confused right now."
"I mean, yes, I did find a coconut tree, but also - Ed, it's fantastic, let me show you."
"Yeah, okay. But first, if no one's trying to kill us, I got you these."
He held out the flowers. The stems were slightly crushed where he'd suddenly clenched his fist around them, but none of them had snapped. "Thought I'd give one of 'em to Iz, but they're mostly for you."
"Ed." Stede took the flowers like they were made of glass. He went very quiet as he looked at them, and then he drew them closer to sniff with his eyes closed. "I've always loved flowers," he said as though it was an admission, as though Ed didn't already know. "The other boys - as a child, they were very cruel about it." He shook his head, leaving the thought behind. "I never imagined anyone would give me flowers."
Ed was going to give him a field of flowers. Was that a thing he could do? Would these ones grow right in front of their house if he planted the seeds?
"I wanted you to have them," Ed said. Why did he feel so bashful about it? "Thought the foliage was a nice touch too."
"It is. Really brings it together. Thank you, Ed." Stede laid the bouquet down with delicate care on top of his foraged finds in the basket, and then he was stepping closer. Ed recognised that look, and he felt distinctly pleased with himself as Stede's hands settled on either side of his head, one on his cheek and one in his hair.
They passed several very lovely moments kissing until, in a pause for breath, Ed's brain woke up a little. "Not that I'm not enjoying this," he said, punctuating it with another kiss just because he could, "but weren't you going to show me something?"
"Wasn't I - oh, right. So, I know we're not pirates any more, but how do you feel about a little light salvage?"
"Love a bit of salvage. It's like piracy but no one's even mad at you afterwards."
"Fab. This way!"
And that was how Ed found himself being led, hand-in-hand, through the trees on a new path that Stede seemed determined to forge himself.
"I didn't go and investigate," Stede was saying, as though there had been the least bit of explanation to provide Ed with any context for this announcement. "I thought we could check it out together. I never thought I'd see anything like it here - ah, here we go!"
The treeline broke open, and they were back out in the sunlight. They were on a low beachside cliff with the sea stretching away before them in an endless shimmering blue.
Stede wasn't looking out to sea. He was looking down at the little cove nestled into the lee of the cliffs, and on that beach - a ship.
There was a ship run aground on the sand. Pretty spectacularly run aground, too, because only the back half of it looked like it was beneath the high tide mark. It was a smallish brigantine; amazingly, her sails were still set, and billowing now and then in the breath of a hopeless breeze. She had nine cannons above deck and five gunports showing on the port side facing them.
But she was long abandoned. The stern had begun to collapse, with rotting holes gaping into the lower decks where the sea had through long effort been eating away at the wood. The back end of the upper deck had begun to splinter and crack, and there was a large gap like the gape of a missing tooth right where the tenth cannon ought to be.
"Jesus Christ," Ed breathed. "They must have come in on one hell of a storm to ram it into the shore like that, and not even tried to stop it. I wonder what the fuck they were smoking."
Stede's face was full of mischief, like a man who'd found a treasure map. "Shall we go find out?"
Exploring the ship turned out to be fun. Ed was a little on edge at first, in a way he'd been working so hard not to be; it looked entirely abandoned but he didn't want to take any chances, so he was ready to draw pistol or knife as required. But he relaxed the longer it went on as it became clear that there was no one in there but them and the crabs.
And, fuck it, this was cool.
They had to start round the back of the ship, splashing their way in through the missing section of the hull. The tide was going out but still high enough to threaten the tops of their boots as they waded round, and the waves were still lapping around the boards of the lowest deck, now half-lost in the sand. Sound had a strange quality as soon as they were inside, more like a cave than a ship, with dripping water and the creaking of old wood everywhere around them.
"Mind your step," Ed said, then caught sight of the cannon lying on its side just ahead. "And, uh, maybe stay away from the edges in case another one of them falls through."
It was possible that this was a bad idea, but who could turn away now?
Not Stede, for sure, and not Ed.
It would have been impossible to see anything down there but for the helpful holes letting in streams of bright daylight. What the first rooms they went through had been used for, it was impossible to judge, because they were empty now. Cargo holds, most likely, their bounty either removed by the crew or later scavengers, or claimed by the sea.
They followed the gentle tilt of the ship upwards, and gradually the sand and rot gave way to wood that was merely damp, and then to dry, solid planks. There was more to be found here - crates and barrels and old munition stores.
"Hey, there's shit we can use here," Ed said, hauling one box over to a decent patch of light to get a better look. "These are tools - axes, hammers, nails and stuff for maintenance work. And look, there's a good bundle of new canvas over there, we could do something with that. This is great!"
"And the galley's entirely intact," Stede said, poking his head round a doorframe. "Pots and pans and everything - ooh, only a few of the glasses are broken. We could kit out the inn with all this. Enough for us and the guests."
"Let's keep going for now. There's no rush. Let's see what else we can find."
The next level was more open plan, home to the gunports and lower cannons, and with hammocks still hanging from the ceiling.
"Are hammocks good for an inn?" Stede wondered aloud. "Beds are much comfier, but maybe guests want the true seafaring experience?"
"Could have both. Let people pick."
"Oh, I like that. Customise your own holiday."
"Exactly, it'll be our unique selling point. Hey, this is interesting," Ed added after a moment, poking his head into yet another box. "They've left so much behind, but nothing valuable, and nothing personal."
The look Stede gave him was very familiar, and one that Ed rather liked - it was the look of mingled anticipation and just a dash of awe that he always gave when Ed was explaining some manner of piracy or recounting some exciting tale. That look always made Ed puff up his chest, metaphorically at least.
"What do you suppose that means?"
"They didn't intend to come back, but they also didn't leave in a hurry. Look, there's not even much in the way of personal effects - they've all taken their shit with them, there's not so much as a shaving brush. But they didn't bother with any of the ship's gear. And there's not a cent of the cargo left either. And for all that something happened here, there's no sign of a fight, unless it happened up on deck."
They looked at each other, then up at the stairs. The ladder was far enough towards the stern to be perilously near the abyss that led below, but still passable.
"Shall we?" Stede said. His eyes were still bright with the excitement of it.
"We've come this far."
Ed insisted on going first, testing the floorboards and the steps carefully as he went, but they held. The deck of the ship felt startlingly bright after so long below, and he found himself smiling as he blinked around.
"Right in the middle of the beach," he observed, shaking his head. "Mental."
"Honestly, I'm glad it's not just me," Stede said, popping up behind him. "It's actually a bit gratifying that this has happened to someone else."
"Fuck, I forgot about that." Ed snickered. "Man, I didn't believe it when Izzy told..."
His voice, strangely, dried up in his throat.
Next thing he knew, a warm hand was intertwined with his, holding tight.
"I miss him too," Stede said quietly. "Time was I couldn't have imagined saying that, but there it is. I think... I'm sad most of all that he won't get to keep figuring himself out. I think he was just beginning to find what actually made him happy."
Maybe that was the truth of it. They were late to the game, he and Izzy, of figuring out joy. But then Stede had been too. Maybe even some of the crew had. Or at least, they'd all needed to find the space to be happy in, both inside and outside yourself. Finding the right people to be happy with.
"Do you miss the rest of them?" Ed found himself saying.
"Yes," Stede said frankly. "I don't miss sleeping in close quarters to them, I can tell you that, but yes. We lived in each other's pockets for so long, it's strange now not to know what they're up to. I want to know how Lucius and Pete are handling married life, and how Frenchie's finding the captaincy, and if Wee John's given any thought to my idea about starting his own clothing line. I want to know if Olu and Zheng stayed on the ship and how things are going well between them and Jim and Archie. I want to know about Fang's goat and if Roach has perfected his broth recipe yet. I'm not entirely sure I want to know how things are going with Jackie and the Swede, but I suppose I'd ask to be polite."
Stede looked around them at the ship, the ropes and sails and masts, and gave a little smile. "I'm a little sad I don't know when we'll see them next, but I'm not sad that they've gone on to new adventures without us." He turned back to Ed, and the expression of peace on his face was one Ed had only recently begun to see there. He really did look settled, more content in his own skin, than he had back before... before everything. "I've got the adventure I want right here."
"Stede, you can't just say shit like that and make me cry on some other bastard's ship. That's gotta be bad manners or something." And if there was a wobble in his voice then at least Stede was the only witness, Stede who smiled at him like he was a goddamn miracle and not the human equivalent of a ship that was run aground on a beach.
Stede squeezed his hand tighter. And that was another thing, actually. Stede had been touching him so much lately. Not just, you know, like that, although there hadn't been a lot of that because they were still a bit dubious about their indoor sleeping options and there was something less than sexy about the possibility of animals watching them while they were otherwise engaged.
No, there wasn't really even sexual intent behind most of it. It was just... a casual hand on his back as they passed by each other in the house. A gentle pat on the chest when they were talking. Fingers playing with his hair when they lay together - Ed really liked that one. Quite a large amount of cuddling, too. Ed had never been a big cuddler before, but now he was beginning to develop a bit of a problem.
And this, the handholding, which was just natural and easy and like they'd been doing it all their lives. All this from a man who'd barely reached out to touch anyone, really, when Ed first knew him.
So Ed was a little addicted. Sue him.
Now Stede was starting to swing their hands together, looking around thoughtfully. "Say, Ed," he said, and Ed found himself very sharply alert. That was the voice of a Stede Bonnet with a plan. "The wood at the front of the ship. Do you suppose it's started to rot?"
"Mm, not up here, I'd say. Hull's probably started to go but the damp won't have spread this far, 'specially under this sun." He took in the spark in Stede's eye, and felt himself smile to match. "Stede. Seriously?"
"Well, it's not a bad idea, is it? It'd just be like... recycling! We need wood, and this is all pre-cut and it's not like anyone's using it. Look, there's still a row boat, if we load it up we can just float everything most of the way back to the inn!"
"Lunatic," Ed said, shaking his head, but he was still grinning and his mind was racing. "It'll be the only inn in the world made from an actual ship. Fucking brilliant."
"And rather appropriate for a pair of retired pirate captains, isn't it?"
"It'll take a few trips," Ed said, already trying to calculate how many planks you'd need for a wall or a floor - but then, they still had the bones of the place, didn't they, they weren't building from scratch... And it wasn't a big building, they wouldn't even need much. "Yeah, babe, I think we can do this!"
This was everything he'd wanted and more. This was what he'd been missing. Fun. This was so much fun. A house made out of a ship! Who in the world would even think of it but Stede Bonnet?
They were a bit of a giggling mess as they made their way into the last unexplored space: the remains of the captain's quarters. Since it was at the stern, half of the room was gone - the whole back section that would have held the large rear windows was lost somewhere in the waves they could hear below. There was a gaping abyss before it, at the edge of which a large desk still perched precariously. The room held little else - the captain's bed must have been long gone too, and there were a few books and papers scattered across the floor but no navigational tools or anything else of value.
"Hey, look at that." There was a rusty old knife stabbed into the surface of the desk, pinning a sheet of paper into place.
They had to pull the desk back onto safer ground to get a look at it, and Ed evaluated the knife - not worth keeping - before freeing the page.
"'This is just fucking fantastic,'" he read aloud, eyebrows twitching upwards. "'This is what happens when half your crew including the captain get absolutely shitfaced on deck during a storm and think they're funny. We spent an entire week trying to refloat the ship but it's not budging. If anyone finds this, please know that by some miracle no one actually died, but I can't promise not to stab a few people as we try to find a way home. Apparently there's a port on the other side of the island. I really hope someone there can offer me a new job. This is first mate Ashton of the merchant ship Fortitude signing off for the last time, you bunch of absolute cocks.' Jesus, that's a new one. Just when I think I've seen everything."
"Yeah, at least my ship could be un-run-aground."
"Not a great brag, babe."
"You may have a point there. But hey, it means no one's coming back for anything. That's dated a couple of years ago. Ugh, at least we know not to touch any of the food."
"It explains why they took all the good shit with them. I reckon Ashton at least nabbed anything that wasn't nailed down."
"Not everything!" came the muffled reply. Stede was digging through a large chest. "Ed, they left the captain's clothes!"
This turned out not to be quite as exciting as it would have been if Stede was the captain in question. The unnamed captain of the Fortitude was probably less wealthy and certainly a less eccentric dresser than Stede had been in the heyday of his fortune; there was a chronic lack of silk and a certain blandness of colour that rather disappointed them both. But any captain of a ship this size could expect to be well enough off, so once they tossed aside his various uniforms, they were left with a good collection of decent shirts and trousers, several fine waistcoats, and three quite nicely cut tailcoats. The captain seemed to have been a little broader than either of them, but Stede took this in stride.
"I can adjust for that," he said, looking Ed over as he pulled on one of the coats. "I'm no Wee John or Frenchie, but I think I could bring them in a little. But this green is a lovely colour for you, Ed." The weight of Stede's attention felt even warmer than usual as Stede looked him up and down, nothing but admiration in his eyes despite the imperfect fit.
It was way too warm for this coat, but Ed felt inclined never to take it off.
"What about the red on you, then?" he said, nudging it over.
"Just like my cursed coat," Stede said dreamily, and pulled it on. He adjusted the collar with a deliberate flourish and gave an experimental spin. "Less of a swish, but I'll make do. What do you think?"
"We're keeping it," Ed said firmly. His mouth had gone a little dry. "Come on, let's take some of this home. Hey, do you reckon we can get that desk onto the boat?"
One of the key questions, of course, was exactly what their plans were for the house now that they had the resources to actually do something about it.
"We can either repair, or we can extend," Ed said from his spot beside Stede. They were sitting on the bed, which was a lot more habitable now. They'd made a new mattress by stitching lots of grasses and leaves inside blankets, and covering the whole lot in several more layers of blankets. It could be a bit lumpy, but the smell was actually quite nice and Stede was rather proud of the whole thing. Plus it meant they could finally lie back inside their house, even if it was still more ventilated than they might like.
"Hmm. I suppose it depends whether we want to open the inn right away, or..."
Ed's face was hard to read. "Or?"
"Well..." Stede still found it so hard to say what he really thought. What he really wanted. He felt a little sick about it every time, even though he tried not to. "I was only thinking that it's going to be quite different when we open, isn't it? Having people around, strangers, and all that. I know it's selfish, but... I'm rather enjoying this, right now. Just being with you. Having you all to myself. Is that awful?"
There was a long, aching beat of silence, and then Ed smiled and Stede felt like he could breathe again.
"Only if I'm awful too."
"I'm not saying forever," Stede said in a relieved rush. "But we could take some time to plan it out. Maybe extend later. Or maybe make each room into its own cabin, so this one is always just ours, you know?"
"Yeah, I like that. Come on, let's go shopping."
Shopping - their new term for selecting what they were going to take from the Fortitude on any given day - led to a good pile of timber and other loot outside the house, and soon their little patch of the island was almost always busy with hammering and sawing and the occasional bout of cursing when the wrong thing got hit by a hammer or saw. They had to remove all the furnishings from the house, and then a bit more of the wood when that revealed more problems, but soon all the rot was gone and being replaced with the smell of fresh-cut timber and sawdust that didn't seem to go away no matter how much they swept.
Ed proved to be a font of wisdom in the matter of renovations, which Stede hadn't realised he would be but wasn't surprised by in the least.
"I've been at sea since I was fifteen," Ed explained with a shrug one afternoon. Between the sun, the muggy air and the labour, it was so hot that he'd not only rolled up his sleeves but also fully undone his shirt. Stede had only been able to afford a maximum of forty percent of his concentration on anything else ever since. "More gets damaged than you might think even when you're just on a merchant ship, but especially on pirate vessels. Everyone learns a spot of carpentry when they're low in the ranks. Gotta be able to repair the ship at sea sometimes or you'll never make it back to land."
"So we're carpenters as well as innkeepers now, I like it!"
Ed took in Stede's most recent handiwork with a slightly critical eye, which was slightly hurtful but also valid, because Stede had to admit that that particular floorboard wasn't exactly at what you might call the same angle as the others. "I'm a carpenter. You're sort of a carpenter's apprentice kind of level. I'll have to teach you my trade."
"I'd be a good student. Very attentive."
"You'll have to be. It's a prestigious position. I only teach the best and there's gonna be a test and everything."
"I think I'll pass. I happen to know the carpenter's quite fond of me."
"No guarantees, babe. Anything could happen."
And something did happen, something spectacular, something beautiful: they made themselves a house. They laid new floorboards, replaced the broken sections of wall, patched up the roof. They knocked out the broken glass panes and smashed them up more to string into a wind chime that they hung on the front porch. They had no glass to replace the windows but Ed made wooden shutters and Stede used squares of canvas sails to sew curtains that they kept out of the way during the day with loops of rope.
They put together a little kitchen with pots and pans and plates and crockery squirrelled away from the Fortitude, and they set all the odds and ends they could find on shelves and windowsills. They got better at hunting, although neither of them enjoyed it much, and they made their way across the island a few times to become acquainted with the settlements on the far shore where they bought food and little luxuries at the markets there. Cooking was a bit hit and miss, neither of them having really cooked for themselves before, but Ed proved to have a talent for making bread and they could roast meat well enough to avoid food poisoning and Stede was having a lot of fun crafting artistic fruit salads, and it seemed like a good enough start.
(They were visited now and then by Buttons, who would perch on whatever they were trying to work on in a tremendously unhelpful fashion, and cry out at them rather than help at all. They assumed it was Buttons, anyway. It was hard to be sure and Stede was very reluctant to ask, because if it was Buttons then it seemed rather offensive to admit he couldn't quite recognise him. They were sure to offer him food just in case.)
And while they were working, they talked. More than they'd ever talked before. It was, after all, more time than they'd ever spent in just each other's company, especially without anything secret or uncertain between them. Sometimes it was light-hearted, giggly and fun; sometimes it was romantic and lovely, the sorts of things Stede had never imagined being delighted by; and sometimes it was so serious it stole his breath away, words he hadn't known he could say to another person, or that anyone would trust him with.
There was, for example, the day when Edward told him about his childhood, while the two of them nestled together with the softest blanket they owned right over their heads like a tent. About how his father had hurt his mother and how Ed had stopped him, and how so much of the violence and self-hatred of his life could trace itself back to that moment. Stede couldn't have recounted what words of comfort he offered then, but he knew they were manifold and also that words couldn't help at all, really, but he also held Ed long and tight that night and didn't let go. And, later, he told Ed about his own father - not to compare the two, of course, but when he'd said that Ed gave him a severe look and said it wasn't like shitty fathers were a competition, and he'd listened to every word Stede said and made a number of enjoyably rude remarks about Stede's dad and held Stede just as tight in return.
And Stede learned what it was to be seen by someone who loved you, and what a wonder it felt like that they didn't stop when you revealed things that you'd been ashamed of all your life.
What a thing it was, to be in love.
All of this they did until one evening, two months down the line, they hammered the last board into place and found that they had made themselves a home.
"Absolutely perfect," Ed said, settling himself down on the porch. One of his last projects had been building a couple of outdoor chairs with sloping backs, perfect for relaxing and looking at the sea. Stede handed him a cup of tea - made just right, of course - and took his seat beside him.
"Welcome home, Ed," he said softly, and had barely finished the words before Ed was kissing them right out of his mouth.
Home. It really did feel like it. Like they were exactly where they ought to be.
"Welcome home, Stede," Ed said, his breath warm on Stede's lips. "Welcome home."
Three months in, the day everything changed - well, they didn't know that was what it was when they woke up, so they woke up the way they normally did. Gently.
Ed stirred slowly. There was sunlight somewhere in the world beyond the back of his eyelids; they'd left the curtains open last night so they could see the stars. It was bright, but he didn't mind it, because when he cracked his eyes open he could see Stede. His hair sat in golden waves as if swept back by the wind, but it was only from the touch of Ed's fingers last night, more constant and fond than the wind by far. Stede's hands were brushing against Ed's bare back, light and warm, idly braiding the ends of his hair. And he was watching Ed, whose first sight that morning was the way Stede smiled when he realised Ed was awake.
No one had ever looked at him that way before Stede, not in his entire life. He hadn't known people could look at each other that way, though ever since he'd found out he'd wanted it like burning, like breathing, like he'd only just found out he'd been starving at a feast. Stede didn't look at anyone else that way, either. Only Ed got to see the brightening of that smile like the first clear sunrise after a storm.
"Good morning, my love," Stede whispered, and Ed kissed him, because what else could he do?
They didn't rush. There was no reason to, and it was the finest decadence to just lie there idle, comfy and content. It was only when his bladder was fit to burst that Ed finally conceded to move with reluctance, but when he got back inside it was to find Stede padding around the kitchen, barefooted and casual in his robe, setting the kettle onto the little fireplace for tea and laying out slices of home-made bread for toast. And this was perfect too, just as good as lying in bed with him, because Stede had set the table with the nice little floral cups and Ed's favourite marmalade from the market and the flowers Ed always picked for him were in a vase right in the middle.
Blackbeard. The Gentleman Pirate. They were legends that outgrew themselves in the end. In the minds of the world, no doubt, Ed was still out there terrorising people and ruling the seas or whatever it was that they thought he did. He'd started it all in motion, years ago, but he couldn't control what the stories said about him. It was annoying, but it didn't matter to him now. It was like Stede said about adventures - this was the story that mattered because it was the one Ed got to choose for himself.
Ed had seen treasure most people could only dream of. He'd seen gold slip through his fingers like water and worn gems that kings would have killed for.
None of it was worth anything against knowing the perfect amount of butter and marmalade to spread on Stede's toast to make him give that contented, happy little sigh and rub his foot against Ed's ankle as they sat at their little dining table together in the morning. It was pleasantly quiet but he could just hear the waves down below, and the familiar cry of seagulls somewhere nearby, and Stede sipping at his tea.
The thunderous noise that obliterated their peace was, therefore, extremely unwelcome.
Someone was knocking on the door. Knocking was really too light a word; it sounded like someone was slamming a closed fist into Ed's neatly varnished door.
"Really," Stede said, his nose doing that severe disgruntled thing that Ed had never even tried not to find cute. "At this hour of the morning! And we're not even open yet."
No, they weren't open, and they weren't even an inn yet, and no one was meant to know they were here. No one was meant to be here but the two of them.
Ed hadn't worn any of his weapons round the house in weeks. It hadn't seemed like a mistake until now.
"Ed?"
Stede was frowning. The look of affront at a social faux pas was gone in favour of a creeping dread, like Ed's hesitation had made him realise the danger.
Ed didn't want Stede to be worried.
He couldn't let Stede be hurt.
"Just a hopeful traveller looking for a bed," Ed said, mustering a smile that was too fleeting by half. He was looking around, clocking where his pistol rested on the desk. "I'll tell them we're not open yet."
"Right," Stede said, faltering, like he wasn't sure whether to play along any more.
Robe tied around his waist, teacup held a little too tight, Ed opened the door.
And came face to face with a wrathful, dark-haired, white-bearded, one-legged ghost.
"Do you have any fucking idea how annoying that fucking seagull is?" demanded the spectre of Izzy Hands.
Ed, in the heat of the moment, took the only course of action that presented itself to him.
He screamed, flung the teacup like it was a knife, and slammed the door in Izzy's face.