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Ed and Stede finish cleaning and putting away the dishes during a relaxing Sunday evening. (They also cooked together, which mostly consisted of them alternating between being the one sitting on the counter tasting the food on the spoon as seductively as possible to distract the other — each time ended with a quick makeout and having to restart the burnt, definitely no longer caramelized, onions four times — and the other offering just a little taste cause they can't ruin the whole meal.)
The playlist's soft beats fill the background as Ed moves his hips to the rhythm, acting out each instrumental solo with the hand towel while Stede steals glances — and kisses.
The soft glow of the setting sun slices through the blinds making Ed's movements ethereal, the haze around him like a dream that Stede can't stop taking in.
As the last dried dish is placed in its home, Ed lifts his arms above his head and turns in a circle, undulating his hips. He adds a little lip bite and looks up through his lashes before holding out his hand to pull a physically affected Stede into his arms. Into his home, it's absolutely tragic Stede was away from that space for so long.
They move across the floor, feet tapping and hair twirling, Ed dips Stede three times in a row, each one getting lower and lower that they both practically end up on the tile. The dancing gets progressively ridiculous as they try to outdo each other's moves (and really how can you beat the tap routine Stede pulls off with the living room lamp?)
The dark clouds threatening rain all afternoon finally deliver on their promise, interrupting Stede's attempt at an elaborate realistic chicken dance and Ed holding a candle solemnly in front of his chest as Pokey LaFarge's "Sister Andre" plays.
Stede bolts up yelling "shit, the laundry" as he sprints out the door to grab the already half-soaked clothes from the line. Ed already knows it's hopeless and the fine fabrics will have to be washed again — especially the summer linens that Stede insists washing by hand.
Ed catches up to a defeated looking Stede, his golden curls already weighted down and matted to his forehead, and his shirted shoulders soaked through, squinting at the clothing through the rain. Ed stands behind him and puts one hand on Stede's waist, tucking his face into the space between his neck and shoulder. "Guess they needed another spin cycle," he jests. That at least gets a chuckle out of Stede, but the frown on his face betrays his other feeling.
That won't do.
Ed circles around Stede, never taking his face out of his neck, staying impossibly close to his boyfriend. Ed knows his breath is ghosting on Stede's skin, the combined cold of the rain and warmth of puffed air causing Stede to follow and lean toward him, seeking Ed out like a flower in the sun. When he reaches Stede's front, he leans back and lifts his hand in offering.
Stede's brow quirks up as he takes in the invitation for a few beats before meeting Ed in the middle, slowly tracing his fingers down Ed's forearm, circling his wrist until he finally clasps his hand, firm but gently. Ed pulls him close, aligning their fronts against the wind picking up as the storm rolls further in.
Stede reaches out to tuck some of Ed's wet curls back, and swipes his hand across his forehead , stopping drops from rolling into his eyes. It's a kind gesture though fruitless in the ever-increasing downpour. The action send a chill down Ed's arm, goosebumps not connected to the cool weather appearing as Stede's smile radiates at him; his eyes blinking the rain back, and his cheeks blushing pink. Ed's chest hurts as he's filled with such overwhelming love for this man, one he sees reflected back in Stede's hazel eyes, glowing at him like a lighthouses beacon in a storm.
They slowly spin and Ed can feel Stede's muscles relax, trustingly putting his weight on Ed, Stede throws his head back, a gasping rumble of joy escaping during their slow dance in nature. The clothes and extra work for later completely forgotten.
Thunder rumbles in the distance —no flash of lightning yet though, but best to get to safety soon.
Stede rounds his attention back to the clothesline, but his body is still turned toward Ed, who feels a shiver as the cold starts to settle, Stede's cheeks turning from pink to red, a warmth in the cool autumn evening. Ed watches the drips of rain collect and fall from Stede's hair. How the dimple of discontent appears on his face. Ed gets an overwhelming urge to chase the raindrops with his tongue but before he can do anything but move an inch closer to his goal, Stede immediately whips around and catches Ed's hands, holding them in his and trying to transfer heat to them.
"Your hands are cold," Stede whispers, doubling down on trying to warm up Ed even as the wind and rain pick up. A louder roll of thunder booms followed closely by the first lightning streak across the sky, illuminating the concern and determination on Stede's face.
The first few times Stede reacted this way, Ed didn't understand; there didn't seem to be a connection between them: one time it was just after grabbing logs for the fire, the melting snow speckling his skin. Stede toweled them off and gave him a cup of tea to hold. The second time after a cold came in over night, the open windows offering little protection against the cooling temps, and Stede woke to Ed's hands outside the covers. He blanketed Ed's body with his own, tucking Ed's hands between them.
But Ed soon realized from the equally far away and frantic look in Stede's eyes during those moments that it was a response to the boat crash months ago. When Ed's body was pulled from the sea, and they had to warm him up from the hypothermia. Stede never wanted Ed's hands to be that cold every again (and he never did.)
Ed smiled and pulled one of his hands away enough to place it over Stede's heart. "Hey," he states as softly as can be heard over the rain. Stede's eyes soften when they connect with his.
"Why don't we take them down and start a fire? Dry off a bit? Maybe...get naked." His eyebrow upticks to emphasize the flirt that he knows Stede can't ignore, zoning into the possiblity right away.
"Yeah, okay."
Before Stede can fully turn back to the clothesline, all those autumn vibe and winter sweater collections really living up to their name in this early December evening, Ed grabs his waist and spins them instead. He keeps spinning them till that reach the line, and both of them are giggling. Stede grabs his face for a quick kiss before they hurriedly gather the clothes to move to the safety of the porch before the wind takes them on untold adventures.
Ed opens the door, the warmth a welcome change from the cold starting to really soak in, and the cheery sounds of Pokey LaFarge still playing drifts out. "This could be the day, you never know when you'll fall in love."
As far as Ed's concerned, every day is the day.