Chapter 1: Smart Tech
Chapter Text
Stede Bonnet woke up precisely at 6:30 AM, as he did every day. His peacock teal curtains let in just enough sunlight to warm his lavishly decorated condo. Every corner of the space exuded flamboyance. His library, with its built-in bookshelves, was lined with leather-bound volumes and illuminated by mini chandeliers. A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air from a fresh arrangement of flowers atop a gilded side table.
He stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh before slipping his feet into his embroidered velvet slippers. Today would be another perfectly ordinary day, and Stede liked it that way.
He shuffled into his kitchen, where his carefully curated collection of breakfast items awaited him. Freshly ground coffee beans, artisanal marmalade, and whole grain bread—not too crunchy, not too soft. A balanced breakfast, as always.
While he ate, he hummed softly to himself, mentally planning his day. He walked out with his bike, wearing his Smart Tech polo and a pair of chinos that fit him rather well. He pulled up a pant protector that looked a bit like a leg warmer, to prevent the chain of his bike rubbing on his pants.
He heard his neighbor come out onto their balcony, an older man holding his mug of coffee. “You gonna watch Survivor tonight, Stede?”
“Of course,” Stede called back, adjusting the strap on his satchel.
“Don’t forget! Tribal council’s gonna be spicy this week,” the man grinned, holding up his mug.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Stede said with a smile, stepping onto his bike. “Have a lovely day!”
The ride to work was uneventful. Stede peddled leisurely on his vintage-style bike, the morning air cool against his face. Arriving at Smart Tech, he carefully removed his front tire and carried it inside to prevent any potential theft. He’d learned that lesson the hard way after someone had absconded with his old bike two years ago. Never again.
He made his way through the fluorescent-lit aisles of the store, a haven of electronics and gadgets. Along one wall, a massive display of TVs all played a live performance of Michael McDonald, his soulful voice filling the air. Frenchie stood nearby, enthusiastically demonstrating the features of one of the TVs to a customer, gesturing grandly at the crisp resolution and vibrant colors.
Across the way, Roach was stationed in the stereo section, animatedly discussing the intricacies of surround sound systems and bass response with another customer. His hands moved emphatically as he mimicked the thrum of a deep bassline.
In the corner, Buttons lingered ominously near a section of high-tech headphones, his eyes scanning the area as though he were silently communing with some unseen force.
Wee John lumbered past, carrying a large boxed TV for a customer, making it look effortless. Pete followed close behind, jotting down notes on a clipboard, the two of them moving like a stockroom duo on a mission.
Meanwhile, Frenchie was cheerfully showcasing a new model of laptop to another customer. His easy going attitude carried over the noise as he talked about screen ratios and RAM, his enthusiasm infectious.
Stede soaked in the buzz of activity as he walked toward the stockroom door. The familiar hum of early morning restocks and the faint beeping of inventory scanners greeted him as he pushed it open.
“Morning, boss,” Lucius said with a smirk, leaning against the desk. His long mutton chop sideburns framed his face, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Good morning, Lucius,” Stede replied, setting his bike tire down in the corner of the office. “How was your weekend?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Out every night, couple of clubs, couple of earth-shattering hooks ups in bathroom stalls and other places,” Lucius grinned devilishly. “Not much sleep, but it was worth it.”
“Sounds… lively,” Stede said, nodding politely. “I, uh, spent most of mine making homemade artisinal marmalade. I went to the market to get organic oranges and all the other ingredients—very high quality. Even bought some new jars for canning. I boiled the fruit, added the sugar, and carefully canned it all. It was quite the process.”
“Fancy,” Lucius remarked, raising an eyebrow. “How’d it turn out?”
“Lovely, actually,” Stede said, brightening. “I set aside one jar to enjoy. But by the time I was finished, I realized I had forgotten to buy bread from my favorite bakery. I was so wiped out that I didn’t go back until yesterday to make sure I had bread for this morning.” He fidgeted with the hem of his cardigan. “But, um, the marmalade itself was excellent.”
There was a pause. Lucius studied him for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Cool.”
Stede’s heart sank. He could feel the awkwardness settle in the room like a damp fog. “Cool,” he repeated softly, walking to the door that overlooked the main floor of the store. He leaned against the frame, staring out at the aisles of Smart Tech. God, he wished he wasn’t like this.
Behind him, Lucius mouthed the word “Wow” to himself, shaking his head.
“Bonnet!” a sharp voice called from across the stockroom. Stede turned to see his manager, Spanish Jackie, striding in. She was an imposing figure, tall with an air of absolute authority. Her wooden hand gleamed under the overhead lights as she gestured toward him.
“Jackie hears delivery’s late. Again. You need to call them, Bonnet, and give ‘em hell. If they don’t shape up, Jackie’s giving them the boot.” Her tone left no room for negotiation. The rumor that she had nineteen husbands seemed entirely plausible; she had the energy to manage an entire fleet of people.
“Of course, Jackie. Right away,” Stede said, already moving toward the desk.
“Good. Jackie doesn’t want them walking all over you, Bonnet. You’ve got that… thing.” She waved her hand vaguely before leaving as abruptly as she’d arrived.
Stede sat at the desk and picked up the phone. He glanced at Lucius, who gave him a sympathetic look. “Just another day in paradise, huh?” Lucius said with a wink.
“Indeed,” Stede murmured, dialing the number.
Huddled in one of sections on the sales floor, Roach, Frenchie, and Lucius were huddled together, their voices low but animated.
“We need five people,” Frenchie said, pacing nervously. “Jim and Oluwande are out tonight. Buttons is in, but that leaves us one short.”
“Wee John’s got his drag show,” Roach added, stirring his coffee absently. “And Pete… well, Pete’s not exactly trivia material. Remember last time? He said the capital of France was Brussels.”
Lucius sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fine. Pete’s terrible at trivia, but he is cute. I know, cute isn't enough. But we need someone. Who else is there?”
Frenchie’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Stede. But I don't know...”
Lucius raised an eyebrow. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. He’s full of random facts.”
“Stede?” Roach looked dubious. “You mean the guy with the cardigan collection? He probably alphabetizes his sock drawer He’s not exactly trivia material.”
Frenchie folded his arms, skeptical. “Does he even know stuff like cats being witches?”
Lucius shot him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me right now?”
Frenchie opened his mouth to protest, but Roach mumbled, “I don’t know. I think Stede’s a serial killer. Nice guy, but there’s something off about him.”
Lucius threw up his hands. “Oh, for… he’s not a serial killer! He’s nice, he’s smart, and he’s perfect for this. I’ll ask him myself. Deal?”
Frenchie and Roach exchanged glances before reluctantly nodding. “Fine,” Frenchie said. “But if he doesn’t know about cats being witches, that’s on you.”
After a few more minutes of bickering, the trio reluctantly agreed. Together, they made their way to the stockroom office, where Stede was seated at his desk, meticulously reviewing order notes. He looked up, startled, as the three appeared in the doorway, all fidgeting nervously.
Lucius took the lead. “Hey, boss. So, um, we have a trivia team, and we need a fifth. Just for tonight. What do you say?”
Stede’s eyes widened. “Me? Really?” His voice cracked slightly, and he adjusted his cardigan as if bracing himself for rejection.
“Yes, you,” Lucius said with a grin. “It’ll be fun. We’ll even buy you a drink. What do you say?”
“Oh, well, I suppose… yes,” Stede stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of excitement and terror.
“Great! I’ll text you the address and time,” Lucius said, clapping him on the shoulder. The trio exchanged satisfied looks before leaving the office.
Stede sat frozen at his desk, heart racing. “Trivia,” he murmured to himself. “What would I even wear?” His mind raced through his wardrobe options, from his more subdued cardigans to something bold—perhaps the purple blazer with the gold embroidery? This was uncharted territory, and he intended to make an impression.
Stede stared at the outfit laid out meticulously on his bed. The deep purple blazer with intricate gold embroidery caught the soft light of his bedroom, almost shimmering. He paired it with a crisp white dress shirt, a paisley ascot in complementary purples and blues, and tailored black trousers.
A pair of polished oxford shoes completed the ensemble. He adjusted his reflection in the full-length mirror, practicing a few nonchalant smiles that came off more nervous than suave.
His mind swirled with memories as he worked. He had never been asked to anything like this before, not even in boarding school. The image of himself as a shy, bookish boy being pushed into lockers flashed through his mind.
He cringed, his shoulders tightening. But this was different, wasn’t it? These people seemed nice, genuinely interested in including him—even if it was just trivia night.
Before leaving, he picked up his phone and dialed the number for his upstairs neighbors. It rang twice before the elderly man answered cheerfully, “Stede! Calling about Survivor tonight?”
“Ah, actually Reggie,” Stede began hesitantly, “I wanted to let you know I won’t be able to join you and Donna tonight. I have… unexpected plans.”
“Oh!” Reggie said, clearly surprised but pleased. “Well, good for you! Enjoy yourself, but don’t forget to set your DVR. You’ll want to catch up before next week’s episode.”
“Already done,” Stede assured him, glancing at his DVR remote. “And I’ll miss the snacks. You know how I love your rosemary popcorn.”
“Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty next week. Have fun, Stede.”
Hanging up, Stede felt a strange mix of pride and anxiety. Unexpected plans. It felt oddly thrilling to say. He grabbed his blazer, shrugged it on, and headed out the door.
The bar was lively, a sharp contrast to Stede’s usual quiet evenings. He paused just inside the entrance, scanning the room until he spotted Lucius, Frenchie, Roach, and Buttons already gathered at a table near the back. The moment he approached, their conversation stopped, and four pairs of eyes widened in unison.
“Wow,” Frenchie muttered, unable to mask his surprise. “You went all out, huh?”
“You look great,” Lucius said, recovering quickly and nudging Frenchie. “Doesn’t he?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Roach chimed in, though his grin suggested amusement more than awe. Buttons merely nodded solemnly, as if Stede’s attire carried some deeper meaning only he understood.
“Well, thank you,” Stede said, adjusting his ascot. “Shall we?”
Lucius waved over a server and ordered drinks for the group, insisting on paying for Stede’s as promised. The trivia rounds began shortly after, and to everyone’s surprise, Stede proved to be a fountain of knowledge.
Whether it was obscure geography, literary references, or even Frenchie’s beloved esoteric questions, Stede answered with ease and precision. By the end of the night, their team had won first place, earning them a round of free drinks and a small cash prize.
As the crowd thinned out, the group lingered, riding the high of their victory. The conversation shifted into friendly banter, growing more personal as the drinks flowed.
“I went on this date last week,” Lucius began, grinning. “The guy showed up twenty minutes late and spent the whole time talking about his crypto investments. When I told him I wasn’t interested, he asked if I’d at least subscribe to his newsletter.”
The table erupted into laughter. “What did you say?” Roach asked.
“I told him I’d think about it, then blocked his number,” Lucius replied smugly.
Stories passed around the table, each one met with laughter and good-natured teasing. When it was Stede’s turn, he hesitated. “Oh, well, I don’t really have any stories like that,” he said, his voice wavering. “I… don’t date much.”
Lucius tilted his head, studying him with a knowing look. “Oh, I see,” he said slyly. “So, you’re more of a… baby gay, then?”
Stede blinked, confused. “A baby what?”
“You know,” Lucius replied, gesturing vaguely. “New to all this? Getting your sea legs? It’s fine, no judgment.”
Understanding dawned on Stede, and his cheeks flushed. “Oh, no, it’s not that,” he said quickly. “I’m not new to… to being gay. It’s just that I haven’t really…” He fidgeted with his glass. “I haven’t dated anyone since college or had sex.”
The table went quiet. Frenchie and Roach exchanged surprised glances, while Buttons sipped his drink with quiet curiosity. “So, you’re saying you’ve been… celibate?” Frenchie asked cautiously.
Stede nodded, his face burning. “All my life. It’s not something I planned,” he said hurriedly. “It’s just how things ended up.”
Lucius’ expression softened, and he leaned forward. “Oh, honey,” he said warmly. “I didn’t mean to… well, I wasn’t trying to push you into sharing all that. I was just teasing a bit. I didn’t think…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like you had to spill everything. But, hey, no shame. Everyone’s got their own pace, yeah?”
Roach, ever the blunt one, added, “I mean, it’s kind of wild, but… cool. Respect.”
Frenchie nodded. “Yeah, nothing wrong with that. Just, uh, surprising, I guess.”
The tension eased slightly as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but Stede couldn’t shake his embarrassment. He eventually made an excuse about an early morning and slipped away.
Lying in bed, Stede stared at the ceiling, replaying the night’s events in his mind. “They’re cool. They probably won’t even remember,” he whispered to himself. But the thought did little to ease the spiral of anxiety that kept him awake until dawn.
Chapter 2: You Know You Want It...Eruption
Summary:
Stede Bonnet's day begins on shaky ground and only grows more chaotic as unexpected interactions and memories challenge his carefully composed world. From awkward moments at work to a flood of emotions in his personal time, Stede is forced to confront parts of himself he'd rather leave tucked away. Through humor, embarrassment, and tentative connections, the cracks in his routine begin to show.
Notes:
I am having the best time writing this. I decided to sprinkle in music, most of it is going to be from the film soundtrack that connect to certain scenes. I may throw in a few choice additions that I feel like enhance this telling.
Chapter Text
Stede Bonnet’s morning began as a disaster in slow motion. He hadn’t slept a wink. Tossing and turning, he had relived every moment of the night before in excruciating detail. When the sun finally rose, his first thought tumbled out of his mouth into the empty room: “This is going to be bad, very bad.”
The bike ride to work didn’t improve his mood. He barely avoided crashing when a car door swung open in his path. Breathless and frazzled, he finally reached Smart Tech and steeled himself for the ridicule he was sure awaited him.
As he walked inside, everything seemed… normal.
Wee John was on the sales floor, helping a customer push a trolley stacked with boxes of stereo equipment. He nodded in hello as Stede passed, and Stede, gripping the wheel from his bike, nodded back nervously. Then he spotted Jim, who paused what they were doing to address him.
“Hey hombre,” Jim said casually, “Heard we need to get you on Grindr.”
Stede flushed with horror. He stammered out something unintelligible and hurried past, but the worst was yet to come. The opening chords of “Pink Pony Club” suddenly blared over the store’s speakers, echoing through the aisles. He turned to see Lucius and Roach dancing exuberantly to the anthem, shimmying and shouting.
“Stede!” Roach hollered. “This is for you!”
Lucius, mid-spin, pointed at him. “We’re hitting the clubs hard this week, Stede! By Friday, you’re going to be dripping in men and confidence!”
Stede flushed even deeper, his cardigan buttoned all the way up as if it could shield him from the attention. Clutching his bike wheel, he muttered to himself, “Do they really have to do this here?… Now?”
Olu approached him with an easygoing smile. “Hey, Stede. Don’t let them bother you. It’s okay, you know. Not everyone is about that,” he said, gesturing to Lucius, who was now shamelessly flirting with Pete. “Hooking up with everyone they meet, I mean.”
“You’re what, 30?” Olu asked encouragingly.
Stede’s shoulders slumped. “I’m 40,” he admitted with a resigned sigh.
Olu winced slightly but recovered quickly. “Oh, well. You know, 40 is the new 30, amirite? No rush, yeah? Just ignore them.”
Stede tried to muster a smile, but before he could respond, Spanish Jackie materialized in front of him. Her presence was larger than life, as always. She gave him a slow, appraising look. “Hey, Steve,” she said.
“It’s Stede,” he squeaked, but Jackie continued unabated.
“You know, Jackie has a lot of husbands,” she said with a smirk. “I know you prefer the company of the softer sex, but Jackie would treat you right. Jackie is a generous lover.”
Stede’s eyes widened in mortified silence. Before he could form a response, Jackie turned and barked at Lucius and Roach. “Knock it off! Let Stede get back to work!”
Stede couldn’t take it anymore. He bolted for the stockroom office, dropped off his things, and then kept going. Through the break room and out the side door, he ran until he was standing outside, gulping in fresh air.
Lucius was hot on his trail. He caught up just as Stede was leaning against the wall, his hands on his knees. “Leave me alone, Lucius! I’ve had enough,” Stede snapped.
Lucius stopped a few feet away, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Stede, come on. I was just trying to… lighten the mood, you know?”
Stede straightened, his face red with frustration. “No, Lu. You know what? It’s not a big focus for me. I have a very fulfilling life!”
As if to prove his point, his mind betrayed him with a flashback: standing in front of his bedroom mirror in a crimson suit with a long tailcoat, gold and black accents catching the light. He whipped the tails dramatically, striking a heroic pose, and declared to his reflection, “What an absolute gem. Oh, watch the flow!” He spun again, flicking the coat with flair, the very picture of a romantic lead in his own imagination.
Back in the present, Stede glared at Lucius, daring him to challenge that image.
Lucius tilted his head, his expression softening. “Listen,” he said gently. “Why don’t we go get a coffee and talk, yeah?”
Stede hesitated but finally sighed. “Fine. Coffee sounds… fine.”
Lucius smiled, leading the way toward a nearby café. Stede followed, still buttoned up in every sense of the word, but with the faintest hope that maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be quite so bad after all.
At the café, Stede sat across from Lucius, nervously stirring his coffee. He glanced up briefly and broke the silence. “You know, this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had. Just us.”
Lucius grinned. “Really? Well, I’m glad we’re breaking new ground.” He took a sip of his latte and leaned forward. “So, what’s got you so tied up in knots about dating? You’ve clearly been thinking about it.”
Stede sighed, fidgeting with his spoon. “I’ve known I was gay for a long time. But back in college, I… I tried dating women. My father was insistent that it was what I should do. He had… expectations.”
“Yikes,” Lucius said sympathetically. “How’d that go?”
Stede winced, memories flooding back. “Disastrous. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. Once, I… well, I got a girl’s bra stuck. Couldn’t unhook it for the life of me.”
Lucius chuckled. “Classic.”
“Oh, it gets worse,” Stede continued. “Another time, I accidentally kicked a girl in the face while she was trying to…” He trailed off, his cheeks reddening. “She had this… thing about toes.”
Lucius’ eyes widened. “No!”
“Yes,” Stede said with a groan. “She ended up with a bloody nose and yelled, ‘You should just leave and give up!’ So, I did. And I think that was the moment I realized I wasn’t… meant for that.”
Lucius laughed, but his expression softened when he saw the pained look on Stede’s face. “Okay, but at least you figured it out eventually, right? What about guys?”
Stede smiled faintly. “There was one. Charles. He was in one of my classes. Charming, great smile. I realized I was… attracted to him. But I was too shy to ever say anything.”
“Oh, Stede,” Lucius said with mock exasperation. “What a missed opportunity. But, hey, you’re here now. You’ve got options.”
Stede shook his head. “It just feels overwhelming. And honestly, I’m… terrified.”
Lucius reached out and patted Stede’s hand. “You’re overthinking it. Trust me, if I can survive dating Pete and a guy named Fang at the same time, you’ll be fine.”
Stede’s eyebrows lifted. “Wait, you’re dating two people?”
Lucius smirked. “Oh, sweetie, I’ve managed to keep only one secret in my life, and that was convincing my mom I was straight for about five minutes. Everything else? Open book.”
Stede found himself smiling, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time all day. “This has been… nice. Really nice.”
Lucius raised his cup in a mock toast. “Here’s to more conversations like this. And to you, Stede. One step at a time.”
Stede clinked his cup gently against Lucius’.
Lucius set his cup down and leaned forward, a cheeky glint in his eye. “You know what we should do tomorrow night?”
Stede tensed. “What?” he asked cautiously.
“Go out with us after work,” Lucius said brightly. “Not like a full clubbing extravaganza. Just drinks. Fun, low stakes, and you can experience gay culture as it’s meant to be experienced.”
Stede hesitated, stirring his coffee nervously. “I don’t know, Lucius. I…”
“You don’t have to hook up with anyone,” Lucius interrupted, reading his mind. “You can stand there, sip your fancy little drink, and soak in the atmosphere. No pressure.”
Stede frowned. “Promise?”
Lucius grinned, holding up three fingers in a mock salute. “Scout’s honor. Not a single pressure. Just drinks and fun. Deal?”
Stede sighed, "I find it incredibly hard to believe you were every a boy scout,: but the slight smile on his face betrayed him. “Fine. Just drinks.”
“Perfect. Bring something to change into with you,” Lucius said, his eyes twinkling. “By the end of the night, you’re going to be so glad you stepped out of your comfort zone.
After work, Stede decided to take a walk, still wearing his Smart Tech uniform and cardigan. The crisp air did little to calm his swirling thoughts as he wandered aimlessly through town. But soon, he began to notice something odd—everywhere he turned, it seemed he was surrounded by attractive men.
It started with a jogger crossing his path, tall and muscular, his tank top clinging to his frame. Stede caught himself staring and quickly looked away.
Then came a group of friends laughing as they passed him on the sidewalk. One of them, with dark curls and an easy smile, gave him a friendly nod. Stede’s cheeks burned.
As he turned the corner, a magazine rack caught his eye. Every cover seemed to boast shirtless men flaunting six-pack abs, promising the secrets to perfect fitness. He hurried past, but it was impossible to avoid. Ads in shop windows showcased brooding models, and even a billboard looming above displayed two shirtless men locked in an embrace under the tagline: “You know you want it… Eruption.”
It was a cologne ad. Of course.
Stede’s heart began to race. He felt like the universe was mocking him. Turning another corner, he spotted a bus stopped at the light, the same “Eruption” ad plastered across its side. The bus began to move, seemingly following him down the street.
“Are you kidding me?!” Stede shouted, throwing his arms in the air. A couple making out passionately on a park bench only added insult to injury. He groaned audibly and turned on his heel. That was it. He was going home.
That night, Stede settled into bed, letting out a long sigh as he sank into his luxurious high-thread-count cashmere sheets. The soft, comforting embrace of the fabric made him feel good—exhausted but good. He allowed himself a small smile, grateful that the day was over.
But as soon as he closed his eyes, vivid memories crashed into his mind like waves. He groaned, turning onto his side, but the memories kept coming.
The first was of a girl in high school who had eagerly offered to give him a blow job. She had braces. Stede winced at the recollection—it had been excruciatingly painful. He shifted uncomfortably under his sheets.
Then came college, and with it, another disastrous encounter. He had been making out with a girl in his dorm room, trying to unhook her bra. Instead of smooth seduction, he’d ended up tangling her in it. At one point, he tugged too hard, nearly ripping out a chunk of her hair.
“You pulled my fucking hair out!” she’d yelled.
Mortified, he had realized mid-argument that he had… finished in his pants during the whole ordeal. He had fled the room in embarrassment, leaving her yelling after him.
And then… the toe sucker. Stede’s breath hitched as the most vivid memory of all took hold. It had been a party, early in college, and she had been very forward. They’d been sitting on the floor of a friend’s apartment when she grabbed his foot and declared, “I’m going to suck your big, sexy… toe.”
Stede had frozen, utterly horrified. “Uh, no, I don’t think—” he had begun, but she was already leaning in. The sensation had been unbearable—it tickled and sent shivers down his spine.
He jerked his leg reflexively, accidentally kicking her square in the face. Her nose bled profusely as she screeched, “You could have had all this! Ugh, you should just leave and give up!”
Her words echoed in his head now, louder and crueler than they had been back then.
Stede bolted upright, his heart pounding. “Oh god, oh god,” he muttered to himself. “This was all a disaster.”
He buried his face in his hands, trying to shake off the memories, but sleep felt impossibly far away now. The past wasn’t just haunting him tonight—it was taunting him.
Chapter 3: Ficus Trees & Strawberry Daquiris
Summary:
Stede steps outside his comfort zone, joining his coworkers for a night out at a lively club. Amid laughter, camaraderie, and unexpected encounters, he navigates the chaos and absurdity of the evening, finding himself in moments both thrilling and awkward. Mostly, just awkward covered in strawberry daiquiri and shellfish vomit...
Notes:
Hello All...I am writing this from my hotel room in Alexandria, VA. Here for work. Figured I would get a chapter in for you all this week while I am traveling.
Enjoy!
Chapter Text
The employee break room at Smart Tech was abuzz with activity as Stede and the crew—Lucius, Frenchie, Roach, Wee John, and Pete—prepared for their night out at the gay club. Stede stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down his yellow cashmere silk button-down, which he’d paired with chinos that fit him well, showing off his calves, and a pair of Italian leather pointed boots. For the first time in a while, he felt confident in his outfit.
Roach glanced over at him as he adjusted his own shirt. “Hey, Stede, what’s Curious George like in real life?” he teased with a grin.
Stede chuckled, catching the joke and feeling surprisingly included rather than mocked. “Curious, as you’d expect,” he replied with a wry smile. It felt good to fire back, emboldened by the camaraderie.
Lucius sauntered over, giving Stede’s outfit an approving once-over. “Looking sharp,” he said, “but you should undo a couple of those top buttons. Let them see the goods.” He winked.
Stede hesitated but eventually complied, undoing two buttons. He looked in the mirror again, feeling equal parts exposed and adventurous. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Pete rummaged through his bag, pulling out a glittery scarf, which he wrapped around his neck with a dramatic flourish. “Now, this says I’m approachable yet mysterious. Thoughts?” he asked no one in particular.
“It says you’re about to audition for Cats,” Wee John quipped, earning a round of laughter.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Pete shot back with a grin.
The club was alive with lights, music, and energy. As they stepped inside, Lucius immediately launched into a list of tips for picking up guys, gesturing dramatically to emphasize his points.
“Confidence, Stede,” Lucius said, “is the key to everything. Make eye contact, smile, and, you know, maybe touch their arm lightly. It’s all about connection.”
Stede grimaced. “You promised no pressure.”
Frenchie and Wee John, dancing nearby, chimed in. “Yeah, Lucius, leave him alone,” Frenchie said, spinning in time with the beat.
Lucius shrugged. “Fine, fine. But at least pay attention to the flirting basics. You’ve got to start somewhere.” He didn’t wait for Stede’s response before being dragged away by Pete, who had spotted their other partner, Fang.
Feeling awkward, Stede hovered near the bar, unsure how to even strike up a conversation. Roach appeared beside him, nudging him lightly. “Use your peripherals,” he said.
Stede looked at him, confused. “What?”
“Your peripherals,” Roach repeated, gesturing to his eyes. “Like, over there.” He gestured with his chin but don't directly look. “Tall, hot brunette. Just slightly left of the dance floor.” He stared intensely at Stede, as if willing him to understand.
Stede stared back. “Okay… Over in the corner. There’s a ficus tree.”
Roach groaned. “Be serious.”
“Maybe it’s a rubber tree plant,” Stede added with a smirk.
Roach glared, but Stede’s snicker broke through his frustration. “Fine. Oh, over there. A tall blonde wearing a neon pink mesh shirt.”
Roach nodded approvingly. “Good. Go talk to him.”
Stede balked, chickening out immediately. Instead, he turned to a reasonably hot guy slumped over at the bar. “Hey, can I get you another cocktail?”
Roach, now joined by Lucius returning for a drink, shook their heads in unison. “Too drunk,” Lucius said flatly.
“I mean, at least he’s talking to someone,” Roach offered.
“But someone who is clinically alive would be ideal,” Lucius retorted.
Stede sighed and wandered off, finding Frenchie and Wee John dancing up a storm. “Hey,” he asked, “have you seen any ‘hot guys’ I should talk to?”
“Us!” they said in unison, grinning. “We are hot.”
Stede threw up his hands in exasperation, about to walk away when Frenchie grabbed his arm. “Whoa, wait. We met this bachelor party over there. They want us to party with them. Could be fun!”
Stede soon found himself in the middle of a bachelor party of jubilant gays, all wearing wigs and cheering loudly. The bachelor, wearing a bright blue wig, raised a glass. “Since it’s my last night as a free man before I marry Dan, we decided to just… WIG OUT!” The group erupted into cheers.
Various bachelor gifts lay scattered around—mostly adult toys, each more ridiculous than the last. Roach laughed uproariously, saying, “You guys are hilarious.”
Lucius picked up a red toy and held it to his ear like a phone, speaking into it dramatically. “Oh, yes, Mr. President. The erection results are in.” Everyone doubled over laughing.
Pete grabbed a wobbling, multicolored one and wiggled it in the air. “Hey, look! It’s Dr. Seuss’ penis!” He grinned at Lucius, who beamed back. "I really mean this."
Stede, holding up a penis-shaped cake pan, joined in. “Hey, everyone, who wants penis cake?”
A sharp-featured blonde man wearing an askew pink wig raised his hand. “I do,” he said with a sly grin.
Stede didn’t pay him much mind, adding, “Hey, it’s Betty Cocker!” The room erupted into another wave of laughter.
The bachelor party’s energy was infectious, and for the first time in a long while, Stede felt like he belonged. He wasn’t just standing on the sidelines watching others have fun—he was part of it. Even if it was ridiculous, it felt good to laugh along with the absurdity of it all.
Later, Stede found himself near the exit of the club, talking to the blonde man, whose name he learned was Ricky Banes. Ricky was very drunk, swaying slightly as he spoke.
“Dan’s a good guy,” Ricky slurred. “The guy Robin’s marrying? Such a good guy.”
“He sounds nice,” Stede offered politely.
“I hated him for like two years because he cheated on me. But…” Ricky downed two shots in quick succession. “He’s really changed now. Chhhkkk. Such a good guy now.”
Stede shifted uncomfortably. “Your friends seem nice.”
Ricky leaned in, squinting at Stede. “You have kind eyes. You seem like my type of person. You know, from society.”
“Thanks,” Stede said awkwardly. “Your hat has sequins.”
Without warning, Ricky kissed him—a sloppy, overenthusiastic kiss with far too much tongue. Stede froze, overwhelmed, as Ricky grabbed his butt. Stede squeaked in surprise.
“You have your hands on my belt,” Stede pointed out nervously.
Ricky laughed. “You’re cute. This is all rather beneath us. Want to get out of here?”
Stede, flustered, nodded. “Yeah, sure.” But he told himself he’d just make sure Ricky got home safely.
As they approached Ricky’s car, it became clear that Ricky had no business driving. Stede suggested calling an Uber, but Ricky dismissed the idea, hopping into the driver’s seat.
Ricky handed Stede a breathalyzer mouthpiece. “Blow on this.”
“Why?” Stede asked, laughing nervously.
Ricky said, "The judge ordered that I get one." Stede's alarm grew as Ricky revved up his small sports car and peeled out of the parking lot. Regret washed over him in waves. He clung to the dashboard, doing everything he could to keep Ricky focused on the road.
Missy Elliot's "Get Your Freak On" blared from the speakers, shaking the car. Ricky danced along as he "drove," his movements causing the car to weave through traffic. Stede gripped the dash tighter. "Whoa, okay, wow... that's rather fast."
Ricky mimed throwing a lasso in Stede’s direction, pulling an imaginary rope. "Come on, you're on the lasso," he said, laughing wildly. Stede stared at him in disbelief, clutching the dashboard for dear life. Ricky laughed harder before focusing back on the road, singing loudly along with Missy Elliot:
"I'm the hottest 'round I told y'all mother-ooh—"
He exaggerated the lyrics, his hands momentarily leaving the wheel. The car wove dangerously.
"Listen to me now I'm lasting twenty rounds And if you want me…"
Stede's internal monologue was in overdrive. Why didn’t I call an Uber? Panic bubbled up as Ricky transitioned from singing to complaining. "And Dan was like, 'You are such a b-i-t-c-h, bitch.' I was like, 'You're the bitch, BITCH.' You know? Wait, what’s your name again?"
"Uh huh, ugh... Stede," he managed, too terrified to argue. This was a huge mistake.
"Stede," Ricky said, as if testing it out. "Let me tell you something, Stede. Don’t be named Dan. Because Dan rhymes with man, and men jerk off. And he was a jerk off. Do you know what I mean?"
At that moment, Stede yelled, "Look out!" as they narrowly avoided colliding with another car. Ricky, oblivious, turned to him. "I like you. You’re not a…" He gagged slightly before adding, "Ugh, I think I ate some bad shellfish sandwich." He smiled blearily at Stede. "You’re cute."
Before Stede could respond, Ricky lunged for him, kissing him sloppily. It was wet, overwhelming, and far too much tongue. Stede flailed in protest as Ricky held him close. The car continued weaving through traffic, avoiding collisions more by chance than design.
When Ricky finally let go, Stede gasped for air, trying not to gag. "That tasted good," Ricky said.
"That tasted like shellfish," Stede muttered, horrified.
Ricky’s focus shifted back to Stede, staring intensely. "Do you think I’m pretty?"
"Yes," Stede replied in a strained voice, his eyes fixed on the road. "Oh god, yes." It was more a plea to survive than an answer.
"You’re not looking at me," Ricky snapped.
"Yes, you’re pretty," Stede insisted, his voice rising with panic.
"Do you think I’m pretty? Look at me. LOOK AT ME!" Ricky demanded.
Stede finally turned, yelling, "You’re pretty! You’re pretty… god, you’re pretty! I just want to live!"
Ricky’s mood shifted again. "God, I’ve been in such a bad mood. Ughhh." He leaned his head back, muttering, "I’m so tired."
Suddenly, the car veered dangerously. Stede shouted, grabbing the wheel to correct their course. Ricky shoved him away. "Hands off! You won’t get into my pants acting like that."
Stede scoffed, thinking, As if I’d want to.
They finally pulled into Ricky’s townhouse parking lot. Ricky swerved sharply, narrowly avoiding another car, sending them into a spin. Both men screamed as the car skidded to a stop. Miraculously, there was no damage.
"Motherfucker came out of nowhere," Ricky said, laughing hysterically. Stede, clutching the dash, tried to calm his breathing.
Stede asked with concern, "Are you okay?"
Ricky’s laughter turned to sobs. Then, without warning, he vomited bright pink all over Stede’s face and chest.
Ricky wiped his mouth and grinned weakly. "Sorry."
Stede looked at him, his face a mixture of disgust and resignation. "That’s okay. I think I had that coming."
Ricky tilted his head. "I’ll still have sex with you if you want."
Stede, wiping at his shirt, sighed. "That’s okay. I think I’ll pass on the sex. Did you have a strawberry daiquiri tonight?"
Ricky nodded proudly. Stede nodded back. "Thought you might."
Chapter 4: The VCR of My Heart
Summary:
After a disastrous night out, Stede faces the aftermath with his ever-chaotic coworkers, who take great pleasure in his misery. As he attempts to regain a sense of normalcy, an unexpected encounter on the sales floor threatens to throw him off balance again. A striking new customer challenges his composure, leading to a conversation filled with awkward charm, outdated technology, and an offer that leaves Stede questioning everything. Could this be the start of something… interesting?
Notes:
Here we go, hoping to have a chapter a week. But between my other stories and my actual work we shall see. Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Stede, Lucius, Roach, Wee John, and Frenchie were gathered on the back loading dock of Smart Tech, the morning after their wild outing. Frenchie was perched on the edge of the dock, swinging his legs idly, while Stede stood nearby, arms crossed. Lucius and Roach stood below in the loading area, where Wee John was gleefully smashing fluorescent light bulbs against the dumpster.
“It was a very bad night,” Stede scolded, watching them laugh. Wee John gleefully shattered another bulb, sending a spray of white dust into the air, making Lucius cough.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” Stede huffed. “You know what? You guys wouldn’t be laughing right now if some guy hadn’t just vomited shellfish sandwich into your mouth.”
The group erupted into another fit of laughter.
Frenchie wiped a tear from his eye. “You know, that’s our bad. Let me apologize on behalf of us all for not mentioning in detail that when you pick someone up for a hookup—especially a drunk bloke falling down on their way out of the bar—you should probably drive, mate.”
Stede flustered, waving his hands. “I just wanted to make sure he got home okay! Honestly, I wasn’t thinking. Plus, you know I don’t drive. I ride a bike.”
Lucius snorted. “Excuse us, Mr. Schwinn-fucking-Armstrong. The logic still stands, Stedey.”
“You know, I am not the only person in the world who rides a bike!” Stede protested.
Wee John smirked. “Everyone rides a bike… when they’re like six.”
Frenchie giggled as Roach slammed another bulb against the dumpster.
Stede’s frustration deepened. He spiraled, trying to decipher if they were making fun of him or with him. It was something his therapist had told him to consider.
“You know what? You can… kiss something!” Stede snapped in his bitchiest tone. “This is over, you guys.”
Frenchie, unfazed, launched into a conversation about cats and witches. “What if that guy was secretly a witch? Maybe that’s why you’re struggling with hooking up.” He then pivoted into a discussion on crystals, leaving Stede utterly baffled.
Lucius opened his mouth to interject, but Roach sneaked up behind him, smacking his legs with a shattered bulb. Lucius jumped, yelping. “OMG, Roach! Not cool! These are new pants!”
Roach giggled menacingly, pleased with himself.
As they stepped back onto the sales floor, Stede’s breath caught in his throat. Standing near the stereo section was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.
Tall. Long black hair streaked with silvery strands, like starlight woven through midnight. A cropped beard, tawny golden skin, tattoos peeking from under layers of so much leather. And his eyes—deep pools of warm amber brown. Disney princess eyes, Stede thought to himself.
Stede felt his heart rate skyrocket.
The man glanced at the approaching group. “Hey, mate,” he greeted no one in particular.
Wee John, who took one look at him, immediately turned on his heel. “No habla ingles,” he mumbled, hurrying off, earning a sharp glare from Jim across the floor.
The man raised an eyebrow but turned back to the others. “Oh yeah, cool. Um.”
Frenchie and Roach exchanged a look before grinning mischievously. “We are currently helping a customer right now,” Frenchie said dramatically before he and Roach made a swift escape, leaving Stede and Lucius alone with the leather-clad god.
Lucius stepped forward, his expression full of wicked delight. “I’m on break. But our very knowledgeable stock supervisor would LOVE to help you. He’s excellent and knows a lot about our products. He can provide you the best servicing.” He winked at Stede before walking off. “Have a nice day!”
Stede tried to whisper, Lucius, stay, but it was too late.
Now he was alone.
With him.
The man extended a hand, his voice warm. “Great, okay. Hi, I’m Ed.”
Stede took his hand, and an electric warmth traveled up his arm, sending waves of butterflies through his stomach.
“Hi,” Stede whispered, barely able to process the moment. “I’m Stede.”
Ed’s smile widened. “Do I detect a fellow Kiwi?”
Stede blinked. “Ah, yeah. Well sussed. I’m from Wellington.”
“No way. I’m from Auckland.” Their smiles mirrored each other. Stede realized, belatedly, that he was still holding Ed’s hand. Reluctantly, he let go. Ed’s smile lingered.
They wandered toward the VCR section, Ed idly picking up a few models and inspecting them.
“So, what brings you to Smart Tech, Ed?” Stede asked, trying to sound casual but feeling every bit like an awkward schoolboy.
Ed turned one of the boxes over in his hands. “Oh, just looking for something old-school. My shop takes in all sorts of things—sometimes people want their VHS tapes transferred, sometimes they just want a VCR that actually works.”
Stede quirked an eyebrow. “You do know they’re basically obsolete, right? It’s like buying an eight-track player or a Betamax.”
Ed giggled. A full, rich sound that sent a thrill through Stede’s chest.
He just made this gorgeous man giggle. Actual giggle.
Behind them, unseen, Lucius was dragging Spanish Jackie away as she silently mouthed, “What the fuck,” at the sight of Stede actually helping a customer.
Ed tapped his fingers against a VHS/DVD combo. “So, if you were me, what would you get?”
Stede crossed his arms, looking over the shelves. “Well, if you insist on clinging to dead technology, this VHS/DVD combo is probably your best bet. At least you’d have options.”
Ed smirked. “And how long do you think it’d last?”
Stede huffed a small laugh. “Oh, I’d say… probably until you get home. Maybe less.”
That bark of laughter again. A real, unabashed laugh.
Stede swallowed. God, I like him.
Just then, Wee John passed by with a dolly, muttering in horribly broken Spanish, “Perdón, muchas gracius,” as he weaved around them.
They both sidestepped to make way, and Ed turned back to Stede, leaning slightly against the shelf. “You know, I’m surprised I haven’t come in here before. My shop is just across the way.”
Stede tilted his head. “Oh yeah? Which one?”
“We Sell Your Stuff on eBay Store.”
Stede blinked. “…That’s the actual name?”
Ed laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, mate. I wanted something obvious, you know? ‘Better than Blackbeard’s eBay & Sell,’ or ‘Blackbeard’s Booty Liquidators.’” He cringed. “Not exactly the most inspiring names.”
Stede chuckled, nodding. “I guess that makes sense. But what exactly do you do?”
Ed smiled, used to this question. “Well, me and my crew take stuff people don’t want anymore, and we sell it for them on eBay.”
Stede frowned, intrigued. “So… you don’t actually sell anything in the store?”
“Nope. Just online.”
“…Then why have a store?” Stede asked, genuinely fascinated.
Ed’s grin widened. “Well, at first, I think it was to seem more legit. You know, so people didn’t think I was some random guy showing up to steal all their stuff. Plus, it’s nice to have a workspace instead of cluttering up my house.”
Stede nodded. “Okay, that actually makes a lot of sense.”
“Glad you think so, mate,” Ed said, clapping a hand on Stede’s shoulder. Stede felt his face heat instantly, the warmth from Ed’s palm leaving a brand on his skin.
Ed then reached into his pocket, fumbling for a pen and a business card. “You know what? You should come by if you want. Check out the place for yourself. Y’know… check me—I mean, it—out.”
Stede smirked. “I’ll check out your empty store?”
Ed laughed. “‘S not empty. Here.” He handed over the card. It read: Edward Teach, We Sell Your Stuff on eBay Store with an address and a handwritten number that said home phone underneath.
Stede examined the card, his brows knitting together. “Why do I need your number if you’re literally across the street?”
Ed hesitated, then smiled—almost shyly. “I don’t really have a good answer for that, Stede. Just figured you might want to call. No worries, mate.”
Stede felt like his brain had short-circuited. Was Ed flirting with him?
Okay, okay. Be cool, Bonnet.
He cleared his throat, doing his best to tamp down his nerves. “So, I’ll write you up and meet you over at the register? Check you out—I mean, check out your stuff.”
Ed smirked knowingly, giving him a wink. “Sure. Meet you over there.”
As soon as Ed turned and walked away, Lucius suddenly appeared out of nowhere, making Stede jump.
“Well, well,” Lucius drawled, practically vibrating with glee. “You two looked awfully chatty.”
Stede, still gripping the business card, turned to him, flustered. “He gave me his number.”
Lucius squealed. “Wow, who knew the hot leather daddy would be all about just plain daddy?”
Stede huffed, clutching the card tighter. “Lucius, what are you on about? I am not even a father!”
Lucius rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, Stedey. You have so much to learn.” He grinned. “See? You did it. You got a number. Are you still mad at us?”
Stede barely heard him. He was too busy replaying the last ten minutes in his head. The way Ed smiled at him. The way his hand lingered. The way he winked.
Was this really happening?
Lucius nudged him. “Well?”
Stede exhaled, feeling dazed, and whispered, “No. Of course not.”
Lucius flung an arm around his shoulders, shaking him excitedly. “See?! Now we should celebrate!”
Chapter 5: A Night of Many Firsts
Summary:
What starts as a simple night out quickly turns into an unforgettable adventure as the Smart Tech crew takes Stede on a journey of firsts. Between unexpected performances, questionable decisions, and an evening full of bold revelations, Stede finds himself embracing parts of his life he never dared to before. Fueled by drinks, laughter, and the wisdom of a particularly fabulous new acquaintance, Stede begins to realize that maybe—just maybe—he's been holding himself back for far too long.
Notes:
This is getting spicier towards the end but just a bit. Tags are updated. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter Text
The Smart Tech crew—Lucius, Roach, Frenchie, Wee John, and Pete—gathered at a lively karaoke pub for dinner, drinks, and questionable decisions. The neon glow of the bar cast a warm haze over the table as laughter bubbled between them. Stede, beaming, clutched his beer and let himself bask in the residual warmth of his earlier encounter with Ed.
Beautiful Ed. With his warm brown eyes, tattoos Stede couldn’t get out of his head, and that familiar Kiwi lilt in his deep, commanding voice. Stede had his number.
As the night carried on, Stede cleared his throat and asked the group, “So… when do I call him?”
The table erupted into chaos.
Frenchie leaned back dramatically, taking a sip of his beer. “Next election cycle, obviously.”
Roach waggled his brows and smirked. “Not until after you get some experience under your belt.”
Stede sighed, resting his chin in his hand. “I like him. Something about him just… feels right.”
Lucius rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. “We are not spiraling about this tonight. We are cutting loose and having shots. In simpler terms, we are getting drunk!”
Stede hesitated. “I’ve never been drunk before.”
Lucius froze mid-gesture, staring at him in disbelief. “What? How? Seriously, is there anything else on this list of things you have never done?”
Stede, emboldened by the drinks he’d already had, straightened his shoulders. “Let’s make a list. I want to do it all tonight. Well, as much as we can. Obviously.”
Lucius grinned like the Cheshire Cat and flagged down a passing server with a tray of jello shots. “Challenge accepted.”
What started as innocent drinks quickly spiraled into full-blown theater. Before Stede could fully process what was happening, he found himself at the microphone, flushed with excitement, a drink in one hand and the other raised in an over-the-top dramatic flourish, as if he were about to launch into a Broadway monologue.
“This one goes out to my bitches at Smart Tech!” he declared with a grand sweep of his arms, nearly sloshing his drink. His coworkers erupted in cheers, clinking glasses and whooping, completely egging him on.
The music started. The dramatic opening of The First Time from Zorba! rang through the bar.
“I hear a bouzouki… You can’t imagine how often I’ve heard a bouzouki, But each time is the first time.”
Stede committed. He didn’t just sing—he became the song. His arms flung wide with each rising note, his voice carrying across the pub, smooth and strong. He moved with the flair of a man who had been waiting his whole life for this exact moment—graceful, passionate, and completely theatrical.
At first, the group exchanged baffled glances, unsure whether to laugh or just let it happen. Then, something incredible occurred—Stede’s sheer enthusiasm was magnetic.
As he got to the second verse, they were all in, clapping along, completely caught up in the whirlwind of his dramatic delivery.
“I pound on a table, I leap on a chair, I crawl up a mountain, to breathe in the air, By now I’ve stopped counting How often I’ve been there, But each time is the first time!”
By the time Stede finished, he stood breathless, arms raised like a victorious gladiator. The entire table was on their feet, roaring with applause. Frenchie leapt onto a chair to cheer louder, Roach clapped him hard on the back, and Lucius wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.
Roach, shaking his head in disbelief: “That was inside of you this whole time? What the hell, man? You’ve been hiding this?”
Frenchie: “You had me at bouzouki. But then you sold me at ‘stamp like a bull.’”
Lucius, grinning, arms crossed: “Same. Stedey, we could have been entering karaoke competitions months ago.”
More drinks followed, fueled by Stede’s newfound confidence and the lingering energy of his performance. The night descended into sheer, delightful chaos.
Somewhere along the way, the night evolved into a full-fledged adventure. Lucius had long since disappeared, currently locked in a passionate make-out session with a leather-clad dreamboat named Fang. He was a larger man with a white beard and a cheery demeanor despite his edgy look. He definitely got Fang’s number, probably written in his little black book under something ridiculous like "Fangbang."
Meanwhile, Stede found himself in the most delightful conversation of his life, seated at a dimly lit bar table with none other than the reigning queen of the scene, Barbarracuda—a towering vision in iridescent blue sequins and mile-high platinum curls. Her makeup was immaculate, her presence larger than life, and Stede was instantly, utterly captivated.
“I just don’t understand why they make men’s suits so boring,” Stede lamented, swirling his drink dramatically before gesturing to emphasize his point. “Where is the drama? Where is the theater?”
Barbarracuda, martini in hand, arched a perfectly sculpted brow and gave a knowing nod. “Sweetheart, if you want drama, you make it. But tell me, what’s your dream suit?”
Stede sighed wistfully, his entire body sinking into the plush barstool as though he were dreaming it aloud. “Scarlet red. Velvet. Tailored within an inch of its life. With gold embroidery. Maybe a long coat for extra flourish—dramatic, regal, something that billows when I walk into a room. You know, it has to have flow.”
Barbarracuda gasped, clutching her chest as though Stede had just spoken poetry. “Oh, honey. You’re speaking my language. That is fashion. That is iconic. That is a moment.”
Stede leaned in, enthralled. “You think so?”
“Think so? Darling, I know so,” Barbarracuda purred, resting a dramatic hand over his. “You need to own your style. Who says men’s fashion has to be boring? Add some feathers! Throw in a train! Drown yourself in velvet, baby!”
Stede giggled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with alcohol. He was thoroughly enchanted. “I have so many questions.”
Barbarracuda gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, her acrylic nails shimmering under the bar lights. “Ask away, darling. Auntie Barbarracuda is here to guide you.”
And so, Stede did. He asked about everything—fabric choices, accessorizing, statement pieces, and the great injustice of beige menswear. Barbarracuda, ever the gracious mentor, indulged his curiosity, regaling him with stories of runways, corsetry, and the unparalleled power of a well-placed rhinestone.
Then, somewhere between discussions of embroidery and the dangers of ill-fitting pants, Stede hesitated. He swirled the remnants of his drink, chewing his lip before quietly admitting, “I actually… I have an entire room for clothes. My guest room? Completely converted into an auxiliary wardrobe.”
Barbarracuda’s eyes went wide. “Oh honey, tell me everything.”
“I have an expansive collection,” Stede continued, growing excited despite himself. “Not just vintage, but high-end vintage. Alexander McQueen. Vivienne Westwood. Gaultier. It’s all just—hanging there, waiting. I adore every piece, but I—” He faltered. “I never wear them outside. I just… don’t have the confidence.”
Barbarracuda gasped, clutching at her pearls (which, Stede suspected, were Swarovski). “Darling. That is a crime. Fashion is meant to be worn! You can’t let those beauties just sit there!”
Stede looked down, stirring his drink. “I know, I know. But I always feel like—like I’m pretending. Like I’m just some odd little man playing dress-up.”
Barbarracuda shook her head fiercely. “No. No, no, no. You are fabulous, sweetheart. And the only thing standing between you and being the main character of your own goddamn fashion fantasy is you.”
Stede blinked, stunned into silence.
Barbarracuda leaned in closer, gripping his hands. “Listen to me. Next time you go out, you put on one of those magnificent pieces and own it. I don’t care if it’s just a brooch or a jacket or a goddamn feather boa. You start small and work your way up. Deal?”
Stede swallowed, then—slowly, tentatively—nodded. “Deal.”
Barbarracuda clapped, beaming. “That’s my boy. Now, let’s talk shoes.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, through the haze of drinks and laughter, Stede realized something profound—he felt comfortable. Completely at ease. He didn’t feel like an awkward outsider trying to fit in. He was part of this world, even if just for tonight.
And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just okay with that.
He loved it.
At some point, they ended up back at Smart Tech. Stede wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but by then, he was too tipsy to care.
“This,” Lucius declared, “is a momentous occasion.”
“I feel like this is a bad idea,” Stede slurred, squinting at them suspiciously.
Roach cackled. “Oh, it’s the best idea.”
Before Stede could react, the crew had shoved him into the encased viewing room—the fancy demo setup with a couch and the biggest TV in the store.
The screen flickered to life.
Loud. Very loud.
Explicitly gay.
The two men amplified on screen, are holding each other close while one of them has their hand wrapped around both of their penises in an almost desperate act of stroking them together. The moans and noises blare over the excellent sound system.
Stede’s eyes widened in horror. “You absolute wankers!” he yelped, rushing to the door, only to find it locked.
When Stede looks back, he sees the scene has shifted. One of the men, with long black hair is now prepping the other man who has sandy blonde hair. His finger teasing the rim as he begins to finger his hole open.
The crew howled with laughter from the other side of the glass, practically doubled over.
Lucius, wiping away tears: “Oh, Stedey, you’re so innocent!”
Stede pounded on the glass. “It’s not funny!”
Roach: “Oh, it’s hilarious.”
Wee John, gasping between laughs: “I— I can’t breathe.”
Stede groaned, slumping against the glass in defeat as the scene on screen escalated. He was never going to live this down.
And despite himself… he couldn’t help but laugh, too.
Chapter 6: Kelly Clarkson!
Summary:
Stede is determined to take a step forward in his life, but taking the leap isn’t as easy as he thought. A moment of courage quickly turns into an embarrassing retreat, leaving him more flustered than ever. Seeking advice from his coworkers proves to be… less than helpful, with distractions running rampant.
But when his friends convince him to push past his comfort zone, Stede finds himself in an entirely new kind of challenge—one that requires endurance, resilience, and possibly a strong pain tolerance. It’s a test of willpower, and whether or not he makes it through unscathed remains to be seen.
Notes:
Honestly, the waxing scene is my favorite. The commentary for it on the DVD is a riot. That whole scene was improvised. Cal and the guys, those were real reaction to Andy being waxed.
Chapter Text
A few days later, Stede was at home, dressed for work and making breakfast. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as he used tongs to carefully pull waffles from his waffle iron, setting them on a plate before walking to the fridge. He pulled out a small container of fresh-cut fruit and paused, his eyes landing on Ed’s business card, stuck to the freezer door with a magnet.
He sighed. He really should call Ed.
Hesitantly, he pulled the card from its place, passing it between his hands as he debated with himself. Then, with a determined inhale, he grabbed his cordless phone and began dialing.
The dial tone rang once. Twice. Three times.
Then—
“Hello?” Ed’s voice was smooth and unassuming, sending a jolt of nerves through Stede’s spine.
Panic seized him. He squeaked—actually squeaked—then slammed the phone down like it had just personally insulted him. His heart pounded. He stood frozen in place, staring at the phone like it might self-destruct.
After a few deep breaths, he carefully placed the business card right back on the freezer door, securing it neatly under the magnet. He had survived. Barely.
The next day at Smart Tech, all the store’s TVs were synchronized, each screen playing Dawn of the Dead.
Roach was sprawled across one of the demo recliners, arms folded behind his head, while Frenchie perched lazily on the armrest. They both looked entirely enthralled by the chaos of the zombie outbreak unfolding across multiple screens.
Stede approached them, hands in his pockets. “Hey, what are you watching?”
Roach barely spared him a glance, waving a hand vaguely at the screens. “Dawn of the Dead. Store’s slow, Jackie’s gone.”
At the mention of Jackie, Frenchie suddenly looked around in a panic. “Jackie isn’t back, is she?”
Stede smirked. “No, she’s not here.”
Now Roach was also on edge, sitting upright and glancing around like she might materialize out of thin air. He stood cautiously, shifting from foot to foot. “She did say we can’t watch this in here. Don’t wanna get caught.”
“Relax,” Stede assured them. Then, hesitating for only a moment, he cleared his throat. “Can I ask you both something… in confidence?”
Frenchie, eyes still locked on the screen, nodded. “’Course.”
Roach, equally absorbed in the movie, waved him on. “Yeah, man.”
Stede hesitated. “I know this is going to sound weird. But do you think a man would find me attractive?”
Just as the words left his mouth, a zombie lunged at one of the film’s protagonists, accompanied by a grotesque splatter of blood and shrieking.
Frenchie and Roach screamed—a high-pitched, almost cartoonish sound—as they instinctively threw themselves at each other in terror. Clutching onto one another, they watched in horrified fascination as the character on-screen was devoured.
“Oh my god, so much blood,” Roach whispered, eyes wide.
“Oh no, oh no—watch out!” Frenchie practically climbed onto the back of the chair.
Stede frowned, realization dawning that they had completely missed what he had just asked. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”
Neither of them responded. They were too busy staring, slack-jawed, at the next wave of undead carnage on the TVs.
Stede sighed. It was probably for the best anyway.
A few days later, Lucius, Olu, Roach, and Frenchie accompanied Stede to a spa he had booked, The Red Flag.
The moment they stepped inside, the scent of eucalyptus and lavender filled the air, the soft hum of running water from a nearby fountain adding to the ambiance. The walls were painted deep crimson, accented with gold-trimmed lanterns and delicate silk tapestries that gave the place an air of mystery and prestige.
At the front desk stood the owner, Zheng, a woman with high pigtails and an aura of effortless authority. She took one glance at them and smirked. Standing beside her was her stout, no-nonsense assistant and aunt—simply called Auntie—whose arms were crossed as she observed them with silent judgment.
Zheng’s eyes immediately landed on Stede. She cocked a hip and gave him a slow, deliberate once-over. “Girl, how are you? Nervous? Is this your first body wax?”
Stede nodded hesitantly. "Yes."
Zheng smirked, snapping her fingers. "Alright, follow me, boys. Time to get this man sorted out."
She led them through a dimly lit hallway, the walls adorned with intricate silk tapestries and lanterns casting a warm glow. The faint sound of calming pan flute music mixed with the distant murmur of other clients enjoying their treatments. Stede gulped, his nerves intensifying with each step.
“This place is fancy,” Olu muttered, admiring the decor.
“Fancy and terrifying,” Frenchie whispered. “Like, if we don’t leave a tip, will we disappear?”
Roach snorted. “If we go missing, it’s because of him,” he said, nodding toward Stede. “She’s about to wax him within an inch of his life.”
Zheng pushed open a door and gestured grandly. “Here we are. Bonnet, take your place on the table. The rest of you, feel free to watch the carnage.”
The room was surprisingly serene—white walls, a massage table in the center, and an array of wax containers lined neatly on a counter. The soft scent of chamomile and lemon wafted in the air, deceptively soothing. Zheng clapped her hands once, then turned to Stede. “Alright, strip.”
Stede hesitated before pulling his shirt over his head. The moment he straightened up, Zheng let out a sharp whistle and immediately yelled over her shoulder, “We’re gonna need more wax!”
Stede scoffed. “I am not that hairy.”
His friends immediately burst into laughter.
Zheng waved a dismissive hand. “Clear all my afternoon appointments.”
The laughter only got louder as Stede’s eyes widened in alarm.
Zheng motioned dramatically toward the massage table. “Alright, Bonnet, let’s get you situated. Don’t be shy. We’ve seen it all.”
Stede hesitated before awkwardly climbing onto the table, shifting nervously. “This feels oddly ceremonial. Should I have prepared a will?”
Frenchie snickered. “Might not be a bad idea.”
Lucius leaned in, smirking. “Relax, Stedey, you’re about to be reborn. A smooth, sleek, completely hairless baby.”
Roach gasped. “I do not roast babies! Chickens, whole different thing!”
Lucius waved him off. “Now hush, let’s let the magic happen.”
Zheng cracked her knuckles as she pulled out a jar of golden wax, stirring it with a wooden spatula. "Alright, girl, let’s see what we’re working with. Lay back, breathe, and think happy thoughts. This is a place of tranquility."
Stede laid back, taking a deep breath. "Tranquility, right. Love that for me."
Lucius, ever the instigator, smirked. “I like your sweater, Stede. Does it come in a V-neck?”
Stede rolled his eyes. “Haha. Funny.”
Zheng spread the first layer of warm wax across his chest.
“Oh, that’s warm,” Stede mused, smiling. “So wonderfully warm. Is that chamomile?”
Zheng nodded as she pressed a strip onto the wax. “Chamomile and aloe. Helps soothe the skin.”
She gave a firm pat. “Alright, on three, I pull.”
Stede nodded, still so naïve, so unprepared.
The warmth of the wax lulled him into a false sense of security. For a fleeting moment, he imagined himself in a peaceful meadow, basking in the sun, chamomile flowers swaying in the breeze. His relaxation lasted all of two seconds.
Zheng counted down. “Three… two…”
She ripped it off before she got to one.
A white-hot flash of pain surged through Stede’s chest, obliterating any semblance of calm. His entire body jolted as he let out a strangled, undignified shriek. His limbs flailed as if his soul was attempting to escape his body.
“YOU FUCKER!” he yelped, clutching his chest as laughter erupted around him.
His friends doubled over, barely able to stand from laughing so hard. Olu wiped tears from his eyes. Frenchie was gasping for breath. Even Roach, who had tried to remain composed, was bent over the counter, cackling.
Stede’s vision blurred with betrayal as he glared at Zheng, who stood there, completely unfazed, already reaching for another wax strip.
Zheng grinned. “Want to stop?”
Stede, through gritted teeth: “No. Keep going.”
Frenchie leaned over, inspecting the now hairless patch of skin. “Sexy.”
Stede tried so hard to smile, but the effort was painful. His chest burned, raw and exposed, and he felt like a living plucked chicken under the harsh spa lights.
Zheng pressed on another patch just beneath the freshly waxed area, smoothing another strip over it. The warmth seeped into his skin, lulling him into yet another moment of false security. The crew hyped him up, promising it wouldn’t hurt as much this time.
Stede, breathing deeply: “Okay, yeah. I can handle it.”
Zheng yanked.
Stede’s scream shook the walls. “COOOOCKKKKK SUCKER MOTHER FUCKER!!!”
A collective wince swept through the room. Even Auntie, who had been watching with quiet amusement, raised an eyebrow.
More laughter. More cringing. Frenchie collapsed against the wall, wheezing. Olu’s eyes were watering from trying to suppress his laughter. Roach let out a slow, impressed whistle.
Zheng: “Come on, Bonnet, suck it up.”
Roach, Frenchie, and Olu nervously chuckled, suddenly unsure if they were next.
Stede gasped. “It hurt just as much as the last one.” Blood beaded on his skin, tiny pinpricks where the hair had fought valiantly to stay attached.
Zheng prepped the next side with the kind of calm precision one might use when preparing an elaborate meal.
Stede groaned. “Lucius, help me.”
Lucius, looking a bit queasy, started backing away. "Yeah, no. I have a weak stomach. See you tomorrow."
“Luci—Lucius!” Stede called after him, voice cracking in betrayal, but Lucius was already power-walking toward the exit like a man fleeing a crime scene.
Zheng, completely unfazed, dipped her spatula back into the wax pot and eyed the center of Stede’s chest with professional menace. "Alright, here comes the big one."
Stede exhaled sharply, then extended his hands toward his friends in a dramatic plea. "Hold my hands."
The guys exchanged wary glances.
"Hold. My. Hands!"
With exaggerated reluctance, Roach, Frenchie, and Olu each took one of Stede’s hands, bracing themselves. The tension in the room was palpable. The scent of chamomile and eucalyptus now felt deceptive, a cruel trick played by the spa’s atmosphere.
"Okay," Zheng said, pressing a thick strip of wax over the expanse of hair. The wax glistened ominously under the light. "On three."
Stede clenched his jaw, nodding. His hands gripped his friends' tightly, his knuckles turning white.
Zheng yanked it off on two.
Stede’s entire body jolted off the table, dragging his three unfortunate friends forward with him as he screamed at the top of his lungs, "AHHHHHHHHHHHH KELLY CLARKSON!!!"
Roach nearly tripped, barely managing to keep his footing. Frenchie let out an involuntary squawk, and Olu swore under his breath.
Zheng casually discarded the used wax strip, dusting off her hands. “There we go. One step closer to perfection.”
Panting, Stede collapsed back against the table, gripping the edge for dear life. His chest throbbed, his nerves ablaze, every inch of skin tingling in betrayal. His vision blurred slightly from the sheer intensity of the pain, and he sucked in ragged breaths, trying to calm himself.
"Nope. Done. I’m done," he announced, his voice hoarse as he scrambled up. He yanked his shirt over his head with a hiss, the fabric sticking unpleasantly to his freshly waxed, raw skin. "This is over. This was a mistake."
Frenchie, barely suppressing his laughter, wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he took in Stede’s unevenly waxed chest. "You look like a man-o-lantern."
Roach snorted, while Olu made an exaggerated attempt to look anywhere but at Stede’s bright red, patchy torso.
Stede narrowed his eyes at them, his dignity in tatters. Then, without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out, his movements stiff, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his abused skin. The faint sound of Zheng cackling followed him down the hallway, cementing the absolute disaster of his spa day.
Chapter 7: Seventh Degree Imperial Yo-Yo Master
Summary:
Stede gets hit with some unexpected honesty from his coworkers, and let’s just say—he was not prepared. Before he can fully spiral, Lucius decides it's time for a hands-on lesson in confidence, dragging Stede into his first real attempt at flirting. With some highly questionable advice and a ridiculous movie reference as his guide, Stede stumbles his way through an interaction that goes shockingly well. Maybe he does have game… or maybe he’s about to completely overthink it. Either way, Lucius is having the time of his life.
Notes:
I have actually never seen Jade. Debating if I should remedy that, I am a bit of a cinephile.
Chapter Text
Stede and Pete were carrying a large plasma TV in a box, carefully maneuvering through the Smart Tech parking lot as they followed a customer to her car. Lucius, hands free and walking alongside them, was "helping" in his own way—by talking.
"Stede, I owe you an apology," Lucius said, his voice uncharacteristically sincere. "I was not nice to you for the past... well, two and a half years."
Pete nodded along. "Yeah, I wasn't either. Not proud of that."
Stede blinked, stunned. He never thought either of them had been particularly mean to him. But then again, nice was a layered concept.
"You were nice to me. Both of you," he offered hesitantly.
Lucius and Pete exchanged a look. Then Lucius turned back to Stede, his expression softening with something that looked a lot like pity.
"No, Stedey, we weren't," Lucius confessed.
Pete sheepishly admitted, "I thought you were kinda... boring."
Lucius winced. "I also kinda... thought you were a serial killer."
Stede let out a sharp laugh, expecting them to join in. But the silence stretched, and his amusement faded as he realized they were completely serious.
His grip slipped, and he and Pete fumbled the TV box. It crashed to the pavement with an audible jangle. The customer whirled around.
"Hey!"
Pete held up his hands in a calming gesture. "Don't worry. There’s a lot of padding in these. I could hurl this off a balcony, and it would be fine."
Stede nodded quickly. "Oh yes, absolutely. Completely reinforced."
The customer squinted at them, clearly skeptical. She turned to Lucius for confirmation.
Lucius, ever the opportunist, nodded sagely. "Oh yeah. These things are basically indestructible."
She seemed to accept this as truth, sighing before walking ahead of them.
As they continued toward the car, Lucius nudged Stede. "Listen, you shouldn’t listen to Roach and Frenchie. Those guys are crazy."
Pete nodded. "Yeah, solid advice."
Lucius continued, "You should listen to me." He suddenly gestured toward the bookstore across the lot. "Look. Hot man, right there. He works in the bookstore. You like books."
Stede and Pete paused under the guise of adjusting their grip on the TV box. The man in the window was arranging a book display, dressed in a snug-fitting button-down tucked into equally snug jeans with a massive cowboy belt buckle. His dishwater blonde hair was just long enough to curl at the ends. But the real statement was the mustache.
Stede tilted his head. "What is up with his mustache?"
Lucius grinned. "I would definitely ask that man for a mustache ride."
Pete chuckled, giving Lucius an affectionate nudge. "You totally should, babe."
Stede rolled his eyes but found his gaze drifting toward another store just past the bookstore—the eBay shop.
He smiled warmly. "I kind of like the man at the eBay store."
Lucius groaned. "That’s great, Stedey, but you don’t have experience. You should get a little experience. Gain some confidence. Confidence is sexy."
Pete waggled his eyebrows in agreement.
Lucius launched into an analogy. "It’s like being an artist. When I first started sketching, I didn’t think I was great, but you gotta put yourself out there. Draw different subjects, explore, y'know? And in my case, that meant sketching a lot of dicks. So many dicks. You wouldn't believe the sheer number of artistic portrayals of dicks. But it helped."
Stede and Pete finally loaded the TV into the customer’s car. She thanked them before driving off. As they walked back toward the store, Stede exhaled sharply.
"I think I have enough advice. I have more advice than I need at this point."
Lucius smirked. "Don’t get bitter."
"I am not bitter. I almost lost a nipple, okay?!"
Lucius threw his hands up. "That was Roach and Frenchie’s idea! And I wasn’t going to say anything, but waxing your chest like that? So hetero. Like, seriously, are you training for a bodybuilding competition?"
Stede huffed in frustration.
Lucius, still smirking, gestured to himself. "Look at me. Really look at me. Looks aren’t that important."
Pete interjected, "But you are gorgeous, babe."
Lucius melted a little, smiling at Pete. "Aww, thanks, babe. But that’s to you." He turned back to Stede. "I’m not traditionally hot. Actually, I think I’m just so-so, but I’ve decided to carry myself like I’m cute. That’s the point. Confidence."
Stede scoffed. "That’s great for you. But honestly, look at me, Lu."
Lucius groaned. "It’s how you carry yourself, how you talk to people. I told you—I’m an artist. I observe people. And the problem is, a lot of gays don’t know how to talk to men. It’s the same way straight guys don’t know how to talk to women."
Stede sighed, rubbing his temple. "That’s great and all, but I have nothing to say. I’m not interesting. What am I supposed to do? Oh, I went to Magic Camp. I’m an accomplished ventriloquist. I am a seventh-degree Imperial Yo-Yo Master." His voice grew more animated, until he was practically shouting in frustration. "Oh, do me, Yo-Yo Master! I want you to do me, ‘cause you’re the Yo-Yo guy!"
Pete nearly choked on his own laughter, while Lucius rolled his eyes, unimpressed.
"Are you done?" Lucius said dryly. "Because I can prove it to you."
Lucius pointed toward the bookstore window again. "Go in there and just talk to him. No expectations. Just get comfortable talking."
Stede hesitated, his gaze flickering between Lucius, Pete, and the bookstore. "You really think this will help?"
Lucius grinned. "Oh, I know it will."
Stede sighed, squaring his shoulders. "Fine. But if I humiliate myself, I’m blaming you."
Lucius and Pete exchanged a victorious glance as Stede took a deep breath and stepped toward the bookstore.
Lucius followed closely behind, nudging Stede lightly. "Alright, rule number one—just ask questions. People love to talk about themselves. Sometimes, they just want to feel heard. Follow up with a question. Keep them talking."
Stede still looked unsure.
Lucius sighed dramatically. "Be clever. Be cool. Be kind of a dick. Be David Caruso in Jade."
Something clicked in Stede’s mind. Oh, he knew that film. He nodded. "Oh yes. I know what you mean."
Lucius grinned, pleased. "Good. I dated a guy named Cal who loved that movie. He was obsessed."
They stepped into the bookstore, the smell of paper and fresh coffee from a small café station hitting them immediately. The store had a cozy but cluttered charm, shelves stacked high with books, little handwritten staff recommendations pinned to displays.
The bookstore clerk who had been working on the window display, standing behind a table arranging a new display, turned to them with a polite smile. "Can I help you?"
Stede smirked, leaning on the nearest shelf. "I don’t know. Can you?"
The clerk’s smile widened. "Is there something that you’re looking for?"
Stede kept his voice casual. "Is there something I should be looking for?"
The clerk’s amusement grew. "We have a lot of books. So, maybe it depends on what you like."
Stede mirrored the clerk’s posture, leaning in just slightly. The clerk leaned in, too.
"What-ah, do you like?"
The clerk tapped a book spine thoughtfully. "We have a great section of do it yourself."
Stede arched a brow. "Do you like to do it yourself?"
The clerk barked out a surprised laugh. "Yeah, man, sometimes. I mean, if the mood strikes." He waggled his eyebrows at Stede.
Stede felt like he was flying blind, but somehow, it was working. He didn’t know what was happening, only that he was running with it. "How is the mood striking you now?"
The clerk laughed more, and Stede—God help him—joined in.
"What’s your name?" the clerk asked, still smiling.
Stede smirked, feigning nonchalance. "What’s yours?"
The clerk pointed to his name tag. "Jack."
Stede pointed at his Smart Tech lanyard, which hung low to his midsection. "Stede."
Jack leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. "Well, Stede," he murmured, fingers briefly tugging at the edge of Stede’s lanyard, "don’t tell on me."
Stede mirrored the move, leaning in and whispering back, "I won’t. Not unless you want to be told on, Jack."
Then, with perfect timing, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Jack stood there, watching Stede leave, intrigue and attraction clearly written all over his face.
Stede met up with Lucius just outside the store, eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh my god. It worked."
Lucius grinned, slinging an arm over Stede’s shoulder. "I know! I would’ve thought you’d been doing that for years!"
Chapter 8: Let the Ship Out of the Bottle, Baby
Summary:
Stede finds himself at war with his own nerves, teetering between hesitation and action as he contemplates his next move. A seemingly innocent object looms over him, challenging his every instinct. Encouragement from Lucius only complicates matters, leading Stede down a path of awkward self-discovery, missteps, and an absolutely disastrous late-night revelation. By the time the next day rolls around, he’s left questioning everything—including the choices that have led him to an unexpected and deeply mortifying conversation in the Smart Tech stock room.
Notes:
It is a challenge to adapt some of the things from 40 year Old Virgin for OFMD Fanfic. But in some instances, it's too perfect and I crack myself up.
Chapter Text
Stede was sitting in his library, though to anyone else, it was technically a repurposed extra bedroom. Bookshelves lined the walls, a small electric fireplace flickered for ambiance and a little heat, and a vintage chaise lounge was positioned just right for the best reading light. It was his sanctuary. His favorite place in the world.
Except tonight, he wasn’t reading.
His book lay forgotten on the side table next to the real distraction: Ed’s business card. The small rectangle of cardstock mocked him with its simplicity.
"You got this," he muttered to himself. "It’s easy. Just dial a number and speak."
He picked up the card and his cordless phone, standing as if movement would somehow make this easier. Pacing the room, he decided to rehearse, just to ease his nerves.
"Hey Ed. How are you doing?" he said, feigning confidence. Then, imagining Ed’s reply, he added, "Good joke. Oh, this is a fun conversation." His voice trailed off into pathetic mumbling, and he dropped the phone to his side.
"Ugh, grow a backbone and just call him," he scolded himself, gripping the card tighter. He inhaled, squared his shoulders, and finally, finally, punched in the number.
The phone rang once. Twice. A third time.
"Hello?" Ed’s voice was smooth, familiar.
Stede panicked. "Hey, how are you doing?"
There was a pause on the other end. "How are you doing?"
Stede winced. God, that was awkward. "I am well."
"Who is this?"
The question sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over him. He could not—would not—admit who he was after that greeting. Instead, his brain short-circuited, and he blurted out the worst possible thing.
"This is James."
Ed’s voice dropped, suspicious. "Do I know you, James?"
Oh god. What was he doing? Abort, abort! "I was… wondering if you had a few moments to talk about laundry detergent?"
A long silence. Then Ed, now sounding very annoyed, growled, "Are you a telemarketer, James?"
"Yep." Stede squeaked, regretting everything about his life choices.
"Are you at the top of a tall building, mate? Can you get to a roof quickly? Jump off! Come on, you are better than this, James. I know times are tough, but mate, telemarketing? You are in crisis. Also, I am pretty sure I’m on a fucking do-not-call list. If not, you better update it. Or I will come find you, James, and feed you your own toes."
"Ugh, yeah. Nice to talk to you," Stede stammered before hanging up in abject horror. He barely had time to process his mortification before the doorbell rang.
He opened it to find Lucius standing on his stoop, a big cardboard box in his arms.
"Hey Stedey," Lucius grinned. "Got a big box of porn for you."
Stede choked. "You have a what—"
"Can I come in?" Lucius didn’t wait for an answer, stepping inside with ease. He plopped the box onto one of Stede’s vintage armchairs before taking a leisurely seat on the sofa. His gaze roamed over the decor, trinkets, and many, many antique looking ships in bottles.
His eyes landed on a particularly ornate model ship, displayed with care. The nameplate read Revenge—a miniature pirate ship, proudly taking up space on a shelf like a prized possession.
"Nice place you got here," Lucius commented, his gaze lingering on the ship. "Very you."
Stede crossed his arms, refusing to take the bait. "What is in the box, Lu?"
Lucius waggled his eyebrows. "It’s my personal collection of erotica. I want you to have it. Figured it would help open up Pandora’s box of love."
Stede blinked. Was he awake? Was this a fever dream? "Okay." That was all he could muster.
Lucius continued, unphased. "Pete, Fangy, and I like to watch Harry Twatter. We act it out. Fang is often Ha-grind. It’s one of our favorites."
Stede sighed, rubbing his temples as he took a step back from the box as if proximity alone might taint him. He crossed his arms, exhaling sharply before finally saying, "You know, this is really gracious and kind and everything, but I don’t want a big box of pornography in my apartment."
His voice wavered between politeness and sheer exasperation, his eyes darting between Lucius and the offensive box like it might spring to life at any moment."
Lucius ignored him, digging into the box. "There’s some really great stuff in here." He pulled out a few VHS tapes. "You ever see School of Rock?" He held up a tape labeled School of.. well, you know.
Stede nodded slowly, arms crossing over his chest as if that might shield him from the absurdity unfolding before him.
Lucius grinned wider, clearly enjoying every second of Stede's discomfort. "It’s starring Jack Black Cock."
Stede blinked at the tape, then at Lucius, then back at the tape. "Oh. That makes sense," he muttered, more to himself than anything, as if his brain needed to process the sheer inevitability of it all.
Lucius rifled through more, pulling out another tape triumphantly. "Here it is! Boner Jamz ‘03! It’s a mix tape I made. All these great scenes I was really into in the summer of 2003."
Stede just nodded along, horrified.
Lucius kept going. "Oh, Everyone Loves Raymond! Wait, that’s probably not supposed to be in here. It’s Pete’s favorite show. I think it’s so-so."
Stede had had enough. "I don’t think you understand this, Lu. I don’t want this stuff. Because I don’t do that! That much!"
Lucius looked at him, genuinely confused. "What? Masturbate?"
Stede nodded, flustered.
"Stedey, I’m going to be honest. I have jacked it twice since I’ve been in here. Joking aside, why not?"
"It’s not a hobby of mine!"
Lucius flopped back dramatically. "It’s the only hobby you don’t have, clearly."
Stede huffed. "Haha, funny. I don’t feel comfortable talking about it."
Lucius softened. "Stedey, you need to. You need to let loose. You’re so wound up, you’re like one of these ships in a bottle. Trapped, instead of out on high-sea adventures." He reached toward one of the ships in a bottle "You need to let it out—"
"NO!" Stede practically dove forward. "Don’t touch it! Because if you take it out, then all the time it took to build it is for nothing! Do you know how hard it is to build one of those inside a bottle?!"
Lucius smirked. "Stede, you really need to see the parallel here."
Stede, refusing, grabbed the box and marched toward the door. "Take your box of porn."
Lucius held up his hands, backing away. "It’s a gift! My gift to you!"
"No, I don’t want it!"
Now outside, Lucius yelled dramatically for the neighborhood to hear, "I told you, Stede! I don’t want your giant box of pornography!"
Stede, wild-eyed, whisper-yelled, "So not cool!"
Lucius, strolling away with a victorious grin, called back, "Not cool is giving an honest man a big box of porn, Stede!"
Stede walked out of his dining room, peering warily at the box of pornography Lucius had so graciously left behind. It sat there, innocently enough, yet radiating an ominous presence. It was as if it knew the struggle raging inside him. He sighed, rubbing his hands together as if psyching himself up for battle, then turned away, leaving it behind.
Later that evening, he found himself in his bedroom, the soft glow of candlelight flickering across the room. He carefully adjusted each candle, making sure they were positioned just right—ambience was everything, after all. With a satisfied nod, he made his way to his auxiliary wardrobe.
The smallest extra bedroom in his condo had been converted into a luxurious walk-in closet. Built-in racks, velvet-lined shelves, and a gilded mirror made it feel more like an upscale boutique than a spare room. He ran a hand over the sleeve of a deep emerald-green velvet blazer, sighing wistfully. One day.
Turning to his reflection, he buttoned up his silk pajama shirt, smoothing the fabric as he took himself in. He looked… dignified. Decadent. But was he ready for this?
Taking a deep breath, he walked into his bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. A few silk scarves were strategically draped over framed portraits—he could not, would not allow judgment from the long-gone aristocrats staring down at him. Once he was satisfied that no one, living or painted, could see what was about to unfold, he climbed into bed.
Pulling the covers up, he exhaled, trying to relax. He reached for the remote, clicking on the television.
On the screen, a title card appeared: SPACE NUTS, the lettering eerily reminiscent of Star Wars. The music swelled with a very familiar orchestral dramatism. Stede sighed, settling in as the opening credits zoomed out.
Then, the actual movie began.
A woman, scantily clad in a bargain-bin Princess Leia ensemble, was speaking to a man… dressed like a sailor? Stede furrowed his brow. That’s not canon. Was he watching the right film? He checked the box. Yep. Space Nuts.
The woman droned on in a sultry monotone about hyperdrives or intergalactic love or something equally terrible. Stede frowned. Was this supposed to be erotic? He supposed it could be, for some people, but… not for him.
Lucius’s words popped into his head. Harry Twatter, he had said. Fang is often Hagrind. Nope! Stede clamped down on that thought immediately.
He tried to stay engaged, but this wasn’t working. The chemistry was nonexistent. The production value was offensively low. The actors finally started getting into it, but Stede grimaced and fast-forwarded. This was so not working. Frustrated, he stopped the movie altogether.
He sank into his pillows with a sigh, closing his eyes. If he couldn’t rely on Space Nuts, maybe his imagination would be better.
He pictured Ed. That long, silver-streaked black hair, those warm brown eyes. Strong hands. Confident. Dangerous. Ed, wearing… Stede blinked. Oh no. No no no. His mind had unhelpfully dressed Ed in the skimpy Leia costume. Damn it, brain.
But… it was working.
His breath hitched as he let himself indulge the fantasy. His hands slowly wandered under the covers. Yes, this was much better.
“Hi Stede,” Fantasy Ed purred, his voice sultry and deep. “M’gonna talk dirty to you. I wanna have lots of sexy sex with you.”
Stede hesitated. Wait. That was… That wasn’t quite right. That was almost… his own voice?
Fantasy Ed continued, completely oblivious. “I want to touch your big, fat noodle… ‘cause I wanna have naughty intercourse with you.”
Stede’s brow furrowed. That was… oddly specific.
Fantasy Ed now looked mildly concerned, like he knew things were going off the rails. “I want you to put your penis on— I mean, in me, Stede.” Then, with growing alarm, “I wanna do lots of sexy hot things with you. Shit.”
Fantasy Ed's brow creased. “This really isn’t working, Stede. I don’t know what to say, mate… because I am you.”
Stede’s eyes snapped open.
“Oh god, I am an idiot.”
He groaned, rolling onto his side before finally grabbing the remote again. With a resigned sigh, he loaded Everybody Loves Raymond into the VHS player. At least this was something he could actually watch from the accursed box.
Stede and Pete were in the Stock Room, sorting through some new inventory. Stede was distracted, still reeling from the disaster that was last night. Pete, sitting on the edge of the desk, glanced at him with a knowing smirk.
“I heard Lucius gave you the box of porn,” Pete mused, arms crossed as he surveyed Stede like a scientist observing an unusual specimen.
Stede sighed, rubbing his face. “Yeah, he did.”
Pete chuckled, shifting his weight slightly. “You ever watch Primetime Live where they take a black light into a hotel room and show you all the semen all over the bedspread?”
Stede immediately knew where this was going and desperately wanted to be anywhere else. He stared at the inventory sheet in his hands, pretending to be far more interested in the stock count of HDMI cables than he actually was.
“Yeah,” he muttered, already exhausted, willing this conversation to end.
Pete nodded sagely, staring off into the distance like a man recounting war stories. “You could blind someone with that box. Could see that thing from space.”
Stede groaned. Why was this his life?
Chapter 9: Date-A-Palooza
Summary:
What was supposed to be an ordinary lunch break takes a wildly unexpected turn when Lucius ropes Stede into a midday speed dating event—without telling him first. Surrounded by a whirlwind of quirky personalities, rapid-fire conversations, and questionable dating advice, Stede attempts to navigate the chaotic experience with… mixed results
Chapter Text
A few days later, Jackie and Jim were loitering near the checkout counter, exchanging theories about their baffling coworker, Stede. Jim, as usual, was deeply skeptical.
"I'm telling you, Jackie," Jim said, arms crossed. "Ese cabrón nos está engañando a todos. He’s fooling us—like some kind of idiot savant. It’s a hoax. I think he’s just bored at work and fucking with us."
Jackie took a sip from her ever-present coffee and rolled her eyes. "Jim, you been watching too much true crime again. Steve’s just... Steve. Maybe he’s got some idiot genius thing going on, but I don’t think he’s got the brains to run some elaborate con. That man can barely function without a cardigan."
Jim smirked. "So what are you saying? He’s just naturally like that?"
Jackie shrugged. "Yeah. Also, he’s got a great body."
Jim arched an eyebrow. "Would you fuck him?"
Jackie let out a sharp laugh. "In a New York minute."
Jim whistled, shaking their head. "Wow. Fair enough. I guess I can see it."
Stede was meticulously filling out inventory reports, cross-checking numbers with the slow precision of someone who actually cared about Smart Tech’s stock. His pen scratched against the paper when a familiar sing-song voice interrupted him.
"Heya, Stedey~"
Stede glanced up to see Lucius, standing in the doorway, mischief practically oozing from his grin.
"Hey Lu," Stede greeted cautiously. "Is there something I can assist you with?"
Lucius waggled his eyebrows. "What are you doing for lunch?"
Stede thought for a moment. "Nothing really. I packed a turkey sandwich—"
Lucius waved a hand, dismissing it. "Cancel the turkey. We’re going somewhere special. I think you should come."
Stede tilted his head, wary. "Oh, um…"
Lucius plowed forward. "It’s a great place. Lots of cute guys."
Stede hesitated. "I don’t know, Lu."
Lucius, undeterred, grinned wider. "Great! Also, we brought you a shirt."
Stede adjusted the shirt he had been forcibly gifted. It was not his style. The oversized collar screamed 1970s disco fever, and he was pretty sure this was either a thrift store relic or a joke that only Lucius and Roach found funny. He tugged at the material uncomfortably as he followed Lucius, Frenchie, Roach, and Jim through the hotel lobby.
His eyes drifted upwards to the massive, glitter-covered banner:
WELCOME GAYS! DATA-A-PALOOZA! 20 DATES IN 1 HOUR!
Panic surged. "Lucius," he said slowly, voice dangerously even. "What exactly is this?"
Lucius, feigning innocence, glanced around. "Oh, you know, just a little event. Some fun. Some casual interaction."
From the back of the event hall, an enthusiastic voice rang out over a microphone. "Welcome to Data-A-Palooza! Who is ready to have some fun?! We have everything set up for the Lesbian & Bi Baes, the Gays, the Pansexual Theys, and everyone who is in our beautiful community!"
Stede exhaled, eyes wide with disbelief. "Lucius, is this speed dating?!"
Lucius clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Stedey. It’s just like a little social experiment. Get some experience talking to guys, gain confidence—"
"I have confidence!" Stede protested weakly.
Roach snorted. "Sure you do, buddy."
Before Stede could formulate a counterargument, Frenchie and Roach had already grabbed registration forms. Jim, arms crossed, smirked as they watched Stede’s internal crisis unfold.
"You know," Jim mused, "this might actually be entertaining."
Lucius handed Stede a pen, flashing a devilish grin. "Come on, Stede. Let’s put that confidence to the test."
As soon as the bell rang, Stede found himself across from a man who looked up from his drink with mild interest. Stede took a deep breath, remembering Lucius’s advice. Just ask a question. Be engaged. Follow up with another question. Easy enough.
The man leaned in slightly, swirling his drink. "So, what do you do for fun?"
Stede, eager to follow Lucius' earlier advice, mirrored the technique he had used at the bookstore. "I don't know. What do you do for fun?"
The man squinted at him, confused. "Uh, I like hiking."
Stede nodded, keeping the rhythm. "Do you? Do you like hiking?"
The man blinked. "Yeah... that's why I said it."
Stede leaned forward, feigning intrigue. "Do you think people should hike?"
The man pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing. "Do you have a brain injury?"
Stede’s smile faltered. "I—I'm sorry, what?"
"You're asking me questions like you're a malfunctioning chatbot." The man scoffed. "Are you okay?"
Before Stede could respond, the bell rang, and his conversation partner moved on.
The next person sat down with an immediate flourish, all dramatic energy and a shimmering sequined vest. The man beamed at Stede.
"Oh honey, first things first—we need to do something about those cheeks. I could rouge you up to look divine! And while we’re at it, are you open to a little sack tuck and lift? I’m thinking subtle, but effective. Makes for so much fun in the bedroom."
Stede recoiled slightly, completely confused. "I—I'm quite happy with my sack as is, thank you."
"That’s what they all say, sugar, until they see the results."
Stede opened his mouth to respond, but thankfully—mercifully—the bell rang again.
Stede sat through five increasingly bizarre rounds of speed dating, each more uncomfortable than the last.
His first date was with a man who refused to break eye contact. "Do you believe in past lives?" the man asked seriously.
"I—I suppose it’s possible?" Stede offered hesitantly.
"Good," the man nodded solemnly. "Because I’m pretty sure you were my horse in the 1700s."
Stede blinked. "I—what now?"
"Your aura. It’s very equine. Regal. Proud. A bit nervous around loud noises. But don’t worry," the man reached across the table to pat Stede's hand, "I took excellent care of you."
The bell rang before Stede could figure out how to respond.
His next date was a man who pulled out a binder and a stopwatch. "Alright," he announced, "we have three minutes. I need to know your credit score, thoughts on prenups, and whether or not you have any outstanding warrants."
"Excuse me?" Stede stammered.
"I don’t do casual dating," the man said matter-of-factly. "I need to know if this is worth my time. Now, do you want kids? Answer quickly."
"I—I suppose I haven’t really—"
The man clicked his tongue, making a note in his binder. "Hesitation. Noted."
The bell rang again. Stede nearly fled the table.
Then there was the aspiring reality TV star. "So," the man leaned in, adjusting his bejeweled sunglasses, "I need to know up front—are you comfortable with public drama?"
"I...what?"
"I’m in the final casting rounds for Love Mansion: Miami Edition, and I need a boyfriend who can handle the spotlight. Would you say you're more of a villain, or like, the sensitive nerdy guy?"
Stede opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Um. Neither?"
The man frowned. "Oh. Okay, so you’d be one of the background extras. Hm. I dunno if this is gonna work."
Another bell. Another escape.
Finally, he sat across from an older gentleman in a leather vest, who smiled kindly at him. "Do you like motorcycles?"
Stede nodded, relieved at a normal question. "I suppose they’re interesting."
"Great," the man grinned. "Want to come with me to Daytona Bike Week and get married by a guy dressed as Elvis?"
Stede choked on his drink.
And then, just as he thought things couldn’t get worse, a loud argument broke out nearby.Three seats down, a heated argument was breaking out. Stede turned just in time to see Roach jabbing a finger at an irritated man in a suit, while Frenchie sat back with his arms crossed.
"That is not what happened!" Roach snapped.
"It is exactly what happened, and you know it!" the man shot back.
Lucius, sipping a cocktail at the bar, leaned toward Jim. "Who’s that?"
Jim smirked. "Frenchie’s ex. Apparently, Roach has opinions about how they broke up."
Lucius snorted. "Of course he does."
Meanwhile, Stede sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. This was not going well.
Lucius, sensing Stede’s despair, walked over and clapped him on the back. "Okay, so maybe speed dating isn’t your thing. But look on the bright side—you made it through two full rounds before an existential crisis! That’s progress."
Stede groaned. "I’m going home."
Lucius patted his shoulder. "Good call, Stedey. Good call."
Chapter 10: Public Colonoscopy & Goldfish Glitter Disco Boots
Summary:
Between Frenchie’s public meltdown, Lucius’ terrible life advice, and a blind date that goes off the rails in ways no one could have predicted, Stede finds himself questioning if his friends actually like him—or if he’s just their favorite disaster to watch unfold. Determined to prove he’s got game, he makes a dramatic exit… only to walk straight into a situation that might actually work out for him. Or not. Jury’s still out.
Notes:
Been sick with the Flu. Hope this one makes you laugh. Love the comments. Tell me your favorite one liners or moments.
Chapter Text
Stede walked his bike past Ed’s eBay storefront, the glow of the neon sign casting a faint red hue onto the sidewalk. He slowed, hesitated, glancing through the glass at the cluttered but strangely inviting interior. Ed was inside, laughing at something on his computer screen, his fingers drumming lightly on the countertop. Stede swallowed, his grip tightening around the handlebars. He could go in. He should go in.
Instead, he kept walking.
The automatic doors of Smart Tech whooshed open as he stepped inside. The store buzzed with activity—customers browsing, sales associates demonstrating gadgets, the distant hum of Michael McDonald playing over the speakers. Stede exhaled, pushing away the frustration he felt at himself and heading toward the stockroom.
A few hours later, Stede stood at the half-door leading into the stockroom office, arms folded as he surveyed the sales floor. Lucius was sprawled in a chair behind him, feet propped up on the desk, exuding an air of boredom and mischief.
“You know what a fun game is?” Lucius asked, grinning impishly.
Stede barely glanced at him. “What would be a fun game?”
Lucius met his eyes, his grin widening. “You take three Excedrin PMs before bed and see if you can whack off before you pass out.”
Stede closed his eyes, exhaling sharply. He tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling as if asking some unseen force for patience. “I am so done. So absolutely done.”
Lucius wasn’t done. “The best part? You always win.”
A few hours later on the sales floor...
Frenchie, looking distinctly disheveled, was clutching a camcorder, his image broadcasted onto the massive wall of TVs. He waved the camera wildly, his face blown up in absurd proportions on every screen. A very bewildered customer stood frozen beside him, looking for an escape.
“Let me show you how this device works,” Frenchie said, voice thick with something that definitely wasn’t sobriety.
The customer cleared their throat. “I was just looking for a cordless phone.”
“Yep, mate, it’s great,” Frenchie nodded sagely. “You can do anything. Make a video diary. Hey, Allen, how’s it going? I’m great! I feel fantastic since we broke up.” He held the camera closer, his face filling every screen. “I feel AWESOME.”
The customer took a small step back. “Could you just—show me the phone section?”
Frenchie blinked, lowering the camera slightly. His tone shifted. “How have you been? What’s been going on with you? You still going down on that literal witch who owns cats? Apparently, men can be witches too! Pretty sure they are a cat, which is crazy because they have knives on their paws. The crystals, man. I told you about the crystals. I bet—hey, you been doing a lot of this?”
He then mimed with choking noises giving a blow job to the camera, moving it back and forth towards his mouth which was now on every screen of the TV wall. More gurgling sounds as he was very into his charade of a very slopping camera BJ.
The customer was now covering their face with both hands. “Sir… please, sir.”
Jackie, standing a few aisles away, was staring daggers at Frenchie, her wooden hand tapping impatiently on the counter. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
She cast her eyes around spotting Stede walking nearby, he made eye contact with Jackie who waved him over, “Hey, Stede, take a look at your pal.”
Stede turned, and his stomach dropped. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah, he’s performing a public colonoscopy. Isn’t that sweet?” Jackie said flatly. “Jackie is sending Frenchie home, and you are going to be filling in for him.”
Stede’s jaw dropped. “What?! You mean selling things? I don’t think that’s a good thing.”
Jackie nodded. “You got that right.”
Meanwhile, Roach and Wee John had finally managed to wrestle the camera out of Frenchie’s grip, but Frenchie, surprisingly wily, had evaded their attempts to pull up his pants.
Jackie clamped her wooden hand on Stede’s shoulder. “Jackie knows this is a frightening concept for you, but you can handle it. So, get out there and start selling some shit.”
Frenchie, now in full dramatic mode, flopped onto the floor as Roach and Wee John tried to hoist him up. “I feel NOTHING!” he shouted to no one in particular, the TV screens still broadcasting his existential crisis.
Stede sighed, adjusting his cardigan. “This is going to be a disaster.”
Jackie didn’t even blink. “Oh, absolutely.”
That evening, Stede arrived at the restaurant as instructed. He scanned the room but saw no familiar faces. A bit perplexed, he made his way to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. Just as he was taking a sip, a slender man with blonde hair approached him, a charming but almost rehearsed smile on his face.
"Excuse me, I noticed your lovely rose. Are you Stede Bonnet?"
Stede looked at the man, taking in the designer suit, the impeccably styled hair, the confident posture. He was handsome, sure, but not quite Stede’s type—not that Stede was even sure what his type was. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. His mind drifted unwillingly to big brown eyes, long, flowy black hair streaked with gray and white, a mischievous smile, tattoos…
The man was still talking. Stede shook himself back to the present. "Sorry, what was that?"
The man chuckled. "I was saying, I am a minor prince. My friends just call me Ricky. Your friend said you were good-looking, but they didn’t tell me you were hot."
Stede sputtered into his drink. "I—what?"
Ricky leaned in, his smile coy. "Lucius set this up. A blind date. Didn’t he tell you?"
Stede blinked. "Oh. Well, no, actually. He did not."
Well, he was here. He might as well talk to the man. As the night progressed, Stede found Ricky to be tolerable—if not a bit self-absorbed. The conversation meandered through various topics, mostly centered on Ricky's accomplishments, Ricky's tastes, and—predictably—Ricky.
As the evening wound down, Ricky leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine glass. "So, is your friend picking up the tab, or are you? And more importantly, are we taking this date up to a hotel room?"
Stede blinked, confused. "What?"
Ricky sighed, now looking mildly irritated. "I’m an escort, sweetheart. I don’t do this sort of thing for free."
Stede's face went blank. "You… what?"
"Yeah. Didn’t Lucius mention that part?" Ricky arched an eyebrow. "I mean, I still had a good time, but this is a business, darling."
Mortified, Stede stammered out an apology, hurriedly paid the bill—because of course he did, he was a gentleman—and practically fled the restaurant.
The next day, Stede was livid. He had gathered the crew into the private viewing room, arms crossed, face red with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. The Bourne Identity was playing in the background, Matt Damon slamming a guy into a wall as car engines roared.
"Lucius," he snapped, "do you know what’s worse than being set up on a blind date? Being set up on a blind date with a professional escort! Who, might I add, expected me to pay not just for dinner but for the," he said with air quotes as he grew more animated, "date" itself!"
The crew exchanged glances before Frenchie let out a low whistle. "Damn, Stede. That’s next-level bad."
Wee John crossed his arms. "What did you do? Please tell me you just left."
Stede huffed. "Of course, I left. But not before I paid the restaurant bill because apparently, I was expected to cover everything in that exchange. I refused to pay for services though."
Lucius, however, was barely listening, eyes fixed on the screen. "You know, I always thought Matt Damon was kind of overrated. But he is so hot in this."
"Shut up, Lucius!" Stede yelled, even more annoyed that he wasn’t paying attention.
Oluwande stepped in, raising his hands. "Let’s just chill here. Just as you always said, Stede," he gave Stede a meaningful look, "like you said during that training exercise, we should talk it through."
The rest of the crew mumbled, "As a crew."
Unbeknownst to them, they had an audience. Near the entrance, bookstore clerk Jack and his mate Charles were watching the scene unfold.
Jack nudged Charles. "God, he is a badass. Look at him."
Charles smirked, sipping his coffee. "So hot. That man could DOM me any day."
Stede exhaled sharply, grinding his teeth. "No. This goes beyond talking it through."
Roach, uncharacteristically serious, spoke up. "We are doing this because we are your friends."
Lucius, finally tearing his eyes away from Matt Damon breaking someone's nose, sighed. "You just… you don’t seem to have the confidence to do this on your own."
Stede’s hands went to his hips as his face turned red. "You don’t think I have the confidence? I’ll show you!"
Before anyone could stop him, he stormed out of the display room. The rest of the crew called after him, but he was already halfway across the store.
Stede marched straight out of Smart Tech and across the shopping complex to the We Sell Your Stuff on eBay storefront. He reached the door, pausing only for a moment to gather himself before stepping inside.
The bell above the door jingled, signaling Stede’s entrance. The store was a charming mess of nostalgia and oddities, a space filled with shelves overflowing with second-hand treasures—old game consoles, vintage radios, cameras still in their leather cases, stacks of VHS tapes labeled in fading marker, and glass cases showcasing an array of eccentric trinkets. The air carried a faint scent of old books and something vaguely electronic, like dust settling on forgotten technology.
Ed was sitting at the counter, a dog-eared book in hand, his reading glasses perched low on his nose. At the sound of the bell, he looked up, eyes scanning the room before landing on Stede. His warm gaze lit up immediately, his smile widening. "Stede!"
Stede hesitated for half a second before stepping forward, feeling that jolt of warmth again just from hearing his name in Ed’s voice. "Hi, Ed… you remembered my name."
Ed chuckled, slipping his glasses off and setting his book aside. "I sure did. How are you, mate?"
Stede shifted his weight, his gaze flicking around the store. "I like your, um, store."
Ed smirked. "Yeah? Take a look around. People bring in all sorts of wild stuff. You’d be amazed at what sells."
Stede turned slightly, his eyes scanning the shelves, but his focus remained on Ed. "How has business been?"
Ed shrugged. "S'been coming along. You know, it takes a while. But I like it. Makes for interesting days."
Without thinking, Stede blurted out, "Do you want to go out?" His heart leapt to his throat, and he quickly tacked on, "With me. On a date."
Ed’s response was instant, a slow grin stretching across his face. "Yes! I would like that."
Stede felt an uncontrollable smile creep onto his own face. "Oh. Great!"
Ed leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. "I think I’m free this weekend. Or, you can call me tomorrow."
Before Stede could respond an older man in a knit hat and overcoat approached the counter, holding up a pair of knee-high silver glitter platform disco boots. The heels were clear, containing fake goldfish suspended in resin, bobbing slightly as he lifted them up for inspection.
"’Scuse me," the man said, shaking the boots slightly for emphasis. "These are wonderful. How much for the pair?"
Ed leaned over the counter, giving them a once-over. "Oh yeah, they're great. But not for sale. Well, not here at this location. They’re available on eBay."
The man sighed dramatically. "I’d like to give you some coin to take these home tonight to wear them. So, if we could do that, it would be much appreciated."
Stede gave Ed a sympathetic look, as if to say What kind of place are you running here? Ed caught his eye and chuckled, shaking his head.
Stede took that as his cue to leave. "So sorry, I should be going. I’ll call you later then?"
Ed turned back to him, his eyes warm. "Looking forward to it, Stede!" Then, shifting his attention back to the man holding the extravagant boots, he added firmly, "But yeah, mate, like I said, I can't sell them to you here. eBay only."
The man huffed, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Fine. But we could have made magic together."
Chapter 11: Asia Posters are Cool
Summary:
Stede’s big date is finally happening, but first, he has to survive the absolute circus that is his so-called support system. Between Drag Race critiques, an impromptu fashion intervention, and a brutal roast of his very refined home décor, Stede begins to question every life choice he’s ever made.
But the real challenge? Keeping his nerves in check long enough to actually go on the date. Spoiler: it’s harder than it looks.
Notes:
The whole condom scene in the movie is one of my favorites. The "I am Aquaman" part lives rent free in my head.
Chapter Text
Lucius, Pete, and Roach lounged on Stede’s plush velvet couch, legs draped over one another in a tangled mess of comfort as the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race played on Stede’s massive, high-end television. The room was filled with the glow of the screen, casting shifting neon colors across the walls, reflecting off the glass coffee table that was cluttered with snack bowls and half-empty glasses of wine. The three of them were engrossed, sipping their drinks and debating the contestants' looks with passionate intensity. Pete, naturally, had taken it a step further.
"Oh, I worked with RuPaul once," Pete announced, arms crossed smugly.
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Pete, you once said you wrestled an alligator in Florida. You have no credibility."
Pete gasped dramatically. "That was one time! And RuPaul and I go way back. It was on this little show—"
"—that no one can verify," Roach added with a smirk. "Right. Totally real."
"Fine. Doubt me. But if RuPaul saw me in the streets, she’d say, ‘Hey, Pete.’ And that’s a fact."
As their lively conversation continued, Stede was in his ensuite bathroom, a space that reflected his meticulous nature. A vintage clawfoot bathtub sat elegantly in one corner, a shelf lined with precisely arranged grooming products above the sink. The air smelled faintly of lavender and expensive cologne, and the large mirror reflected Stede’s nervous expression as he paced, gripping his cordless phone so tightly his knuckles whitened. His heart pounded as he hit the call button. The dial tone rang once… twice…
"Hello."
Stede nearly jumped out of his skin. "Hey. Hi. Hello. Ed?"
Ed’s voice was warm, amused. "Yeah. Stede?"
Stede exhaled sharply, realizing he had been holding his breath. "Yes. It’s Stede."
"Hey, mate, ready for our date tonight?"
Stede gripped the bathroom counter. "Yeah, I am. Just calling to let you know I have a reservation at a little Italian place. I hope that’s okay, I realize I should have asked..."
"Oh, love Italian. Sounds perfect. Do you want me to meet you there, or do you want to pick me up?"
Stede’s stomach dropped. "Oh, I... I drive… erm, well, I have a bike."
Ed sounded excited. "Oh, so do I. Love riding motorcycles. We should go for a ride in the—"
"Oh, Ed, no. Sorry. I ride a bike… bicycle. Though a motorcycle sounds thrilling."
Ed chuckled, clearly entertained. "No worries. Could take you on the back of mine sometime. I have a car, could pick you up if you like."
Relief washed over Stede. "That would be lovely."
They settled on a time, and Stede gave Ed his address before hanging up. When he walked back into the living room, he was smiling—until he noticed the expectant stares of his friends.
"He’s coming to pick me up tonight around 5:30."
They all stared.
"He’s picking you up from here?" Lucius asked, looking horrified.
"Yes, Lucius, where else?"
Lucius blinked. "Stedey, no offense, but this place is a lot."
He stood and wandered over to the towering bookshelf filled with meticulously arranged hardcovers and trinkets. He ran his fingers over the spines before stopping at a particularly ornate book. "Is this a first edition of Pinocchio?"
Stede straightened proudly. "Yes, it’s worth a lot of money. It’s one of my favorites."
Lucius turned, face unreadable. "Stedey, none of this is sexy."
"I’m not trying to be SEXY!" Stede protested.
Pete snorted, motioning toward the far wall. "You have a gilded framed poster of Asia. How hard did the people at the framing place laugh when you brought that in? The frame probably costs more than the poster."
Roach doubled over laughing, elbowing Pete. "Oh my god, you’re so right."
Pete rubbed his side. "Hey!"
Stede huffed. "They did not laugh at me!"
But it was too late—his friends had shifted into Drag Race judge mode, critiquing everything in sight. Stede groaned as their playful jabs spiraled into a full-on roast of his decor. Eventually, Lucius stood dramatically, pointing a ring-clad finger at him. "Alright. Enough of this. You need to slut it up."
Stede blinked. "Excuse me?!"
"You heard me," Lucius said, already marching toward Stede’s wardrobe. "You’ve got the legs of a Roman god—use them. Chinos. Fitted. Tight. Something that makes people want to touch. Show off those tits."
Pete opened Stede’s closet and let out a strangled sound. "Why are all your shirts beige? This is criminal."
"I like neutral tones!" Stede protested.
Lucius gave him a skeptical look. "Stedey, I know you have more than this. You must have something with personality."
Stede hesitated before mumbling, "Well… I do have the auxiliary wardrobe."
Lucius' eyes widened. "The what now?"
Pete raised an eyebrow. "Auxiliary wardrobe? Stede, do you have a secret closet?"
Stede sighed, rubbing his temple. "It’s not secret. It’s just… my other wardrobe. The one with my more elaborate pieces."
Roach perked up. "More elaborate how?"
With great reluctance, Stede led them to an adjoining room and opened the door, revealing his auxiliary wardrobe. Unlike the more subdued living space, this room was an explosion of decadence. Racks of velvet jackets in deep reds, blues, and emerald greens lined the walls, alongside silk shirts embroidered with intricate patterns.
Capes with gold clasps hung neatly, alongside waistcoats fit for a royal court. Shoes of polished leather and suede sat perfectly arranged beneath them. The soft glow from a small chandelier overhead made the room feel like a boutique from a different century.
Inside was a completely different world—velvet jackets, silk shirts in jewel tones, intricately patterned waistcoats, capes, and an alarming amount of ruffles. The light from the hallway caught on embroidered gold detailing and deep, luxurious fabrics.
Pete let out a low whistle. "Holy shit, Stede. You’ve been holding out on us."
Lucius practically vibrated with excitement. "Why were you hiding all this while dressing like an insurance salesman?!"
"Because!" Stede huffed. "I like to keep it professional!"
Roach ignored him, reaching for a deep teal fitted button-up. "You’re wearing this. Several buttons undone. No cardigans. Just roll up your sleeves and show off your forearms."
Stede looked down at his arms. "What’s wrong with my forearms?"
Lucius smirked. "Nothing. That’s the point. People love forearms."
Pete clapped his hands. "Alright, outfit sorted. But now we need to talk about this apartment."
"No," Stede said quickly, shaking his head. "That is far too much effort."
"It’s not serial killer level," Roach admitted, scanning the room. "But it has… vibes."
Lucius pursed his lips, tapping his chin, taking another long glance at the room. The walls, usually covered in decorative framed prints and an eclectic mix of art, looked suffocatingly formal. The deep wood tones of the furniture, the Persian rugs, the meticulously arranged collection of antique clocks—everything spoke of an aristocrat who never quite let go of the past.
"We should de-Stede your apartment. Just a little. Make it feel less like you’re preparing for a 19th-century poetry reading and more like someone actually lives here."
"I am NOT de-Stede-ing my apartment!" Stede exclaimed, throwing his arms up. "You’re all insufferable. I’m keeping my Asia poster!"
The three of them exchanged looks before Lucius gave a little shrug. "Alright. But when Ed walks in and sees all this and runs, don’t come crying to us."
Stede scowled, but deep down, he was already questioning everything. "Fine. But the Asia poster stays."
Pete sighed dramatically. "Fine. But at least let us make sure your bed doesn’t have some fancy embroidered nonsense on it."
Stede groaned.
Stede’s living room had never looked so barren. The bookshelves, once overflowing, were covered with white canvas painting tarps, his beloved framed Asia poster was stashed under the couch, and the ornate trinkets that gave his home character were boxed up in the corner. He frowned at the near-empty space, shifting uncomfortably.
Lucius, Pete, and Roach had made him promise to let them put it all back the next day—if he agreed to let them explore his auxiliary wardrobe more and watch Drag Race on his giant television again. Begrudgingly, he had agreed.
Now, standing in the middle of his stripped-down apartment, he whispered to himself, "I am adequate."
A knock on the door made his stomach lurch. He took a deep breath, adjusted his sleeves, and opened it to see Ed standing there, all warmth and charm, his grin easy and infectious.
"Hi," Stede breathed, feeling his nerves tighten and relax all at once.
"Hi," Ed replied, eyes flicking past Stede into the apartment. "So, this is your place?"
Stede blushed, shifting to block Ed’s view of the overly sanitized space. "Ah, yes. Well."
Ed leaned in slightly, scanning the room. "Seems empty, mate. Moving out?"
"Ah, no! Just—having the floors redone. Thinking of getting carpet instead of the hardwoods. Shame you can’t lift these up to see if there’s carpet underneath," he blurted out, already regretting every word.
Ed let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, suppose so. Well, ready then?"
"Yes! Let’s!"
They departed for the Italian restaurant, where, to Stede’s astonishment, the evening unfolded with ease. Conversation flowed effortlessly, drifting from mutual interests to playful teasing. Their banter slipped into an improv-like rhythm, tossing back absurd hypothetical situations until they were both laughing into their wine glasses.
Stede was amazed—truly amazed—at how relaxed he felt with Ed.
As the evening wound down, they found themselves back at Ed’s house. What started as casual kisses on the sofa quickly turned into something far more heated, their hands roaming as they stumbled toward Ed’s bedroom. Clothes were hurriedly removed, lips never straying far from each other’s.
Between breathless kisses, Ed chuckled. "Man, you really like kissing."
"Yes," Stede admitted without hesitation before diving back in for another.
Ed groaned, then gently stopped him. "Hang on, do you have protection?"
Stede pulled back, blinking in confusion. "I don’t like guns."
Ed stared for a second before bursting into laughter. "Ha! Yeah. Okay. Gimme a sec—gonna freshen up. Uh, in the bedside table, there’s condoms. Feel free to grab whatever. There’s a lot. Just, uh, check the expiration dates. My last boyfriend was a bit of a roving cheater. Long story. Be back soon."
He kissed Stede deeply before disappearing into the bathroom.
Stede took a moment to catch his breath, heart still pounding as he reached for the drawer. Inside, a ceramic dish with a lid held an assortment of condoms. He picked one up, examining it with wonder—he had never actually handled one before.
Sitting naked on Ed’s bed, he carefully opened one, reading the instructions. "Okay. Roll over the tip and down to the base." He followed the steps, then checked the packet again. "Over the balls? Hm. Doesn’t say." He tugged it further down—
Snap.
The broken condom landed on the floor.
"Can I use your Magnum?" he called toward the bathroom.
"Ugh, yeah, mate!" Ed called back, amused.
Instead of putting it on, Stede grew curious and slid his hand—then his entire forearm—inside the condom. He held it up, inspecting it like an odd glove. Then, in a deep, dramatic voice, he announced, "I am Aquaman."
He moved on to the next. A flavored one. He sniffed it, then gave it a small taste.
Immediate regret.
He coughed, spitting out the artificial fruit-flavored rubber. "Ugh! Tastes awful!"
Attempting another, he struggled with the feel, tried to adjust, and—
Snap.
Another one down.
Ed was still in the bathroom, a small graveyard of unused condoms and open wrappers had accumulated on the floor. Stede was sweating slightly, feeling vaguely overwhelmed but also oddly fascinated by how complicated this was.
Then, the bedroom door swung open.
A gruff, raspy voice cut through the air. "Jesus, Ed, are you home? Been calling your na—" The voice stopped.
Stede screamed.
Two men stood frozen in the doorway, their faces twisted in immediate disgust. The first was a broad, towering man who looked like a Samoan Santa Claus, a big smile on his face, a leather headband wrapped around his forehead. The other was a shorter, scowling man with jet-black hair streaked with silver, a dark ‘X’ tattoo across his face, and a goatee. His voice was gruff and full of irritation.
The shorter one, Izzy, immediately spotted the pile of condoms on the floor and then Stede—naked, flustered, and sitting on the bed like a deer caught in headlights.
"Fucks sake, Ed," Izzy growled, glaring at the mess. "How many fucking times did you two do it?"
Ed came sprinting out of the bathroom completely naked, eyes wide. "Get the fuck out of my room, Izzy! Can’t you knock?!"
Izzy pointed aggressively at the door. "Me?! You should lock your fucking door!"
Izzy stomped out, still muttering under his breath. Ed groaned and ran a hand through his hair before turning back to Stede, who sat frozen, blanket clutched over his lap in shock.
The larger man, still staring at the condom pile in awe, turned to Stede with genuine wonder. "Teach me."
Stede shook his head rapidly, scrambling to grab his clothes. "I—I am going to go. I will call you."
Ed called out, but Stede didn’t hear him. He was too busy escaping.
Tonight had most certainly taken a turn.
Chapter 12: Guatemalan Love Song
Summary:
Stede makes a very personal phone call, learns way too much about pain as a solution, and has an extremely uncomfortable chat with Jackie about... well, things. One thing’s clear—he’s not getting out of this week without emotional scarring and possibly a promotion.
Notes:
Howdy friends...a fun and weird chapter for you. Also, just as a note, the word "erection" is used 10 times. 😅 Have fun. Leave a comment if you are laughing as much as I am.
Chapter Text
Stede sat at the little round table in his breakfast nook, hunched forward in his gold banyan robe and a pair of grey sweatpants that did very little to disguise his current predicament. It was late, he needed sleep. His tea had gone cold in front of him, forgotten. His eyes flicked to the phone number written on the back of a grocery receipt—the number from that commercial, still stuck to the fridge with a Shakespeare magnet.
He picked up the cordless phone with great reluctance and dialed, glancing anxiously toward the hallway as if he expected someone to walk in on him.
"Thank you for calling, how may I help you?" came a professional male voice.
Stede sat upright in his chair, posture stiff. The kitchen around him was filled with quiet tension—the ticking of a wall clock, the faint hum of the refrigerator, and the clink of silverware in the sink.
"Yes, I am calling because it has been more than four hours... your ad said to call if it's been more than four hours."
There was a pause on the line.
"How much of the medicine have you taken, sir?"
Stede flushed, his fingers toying nervously with the phone cord, eyes darting to the steam curling lazily from his forgotten tea mug. "Oh, well... none. But your ad said that if you have had an erection for more than four hours, you call. So, this is me calling because of my erection."
"Sir," the operator said slowly, confusion laced in his tone, "you are only supposed to call if you have taken the medication."
Stede's gaze dropped to the pattern on the tiled floor. "Oh. I must have not heard that part. It's just ever so uncomfortable."
"I understand, sir. But again, we only assist those who have used our product."
"Yes, got that. So sorry. So, there's nothing you can do? No advice? Seems like your company's area of expertise."
The operator chuckled, a soft rasp of amusement down the line. "Well, sir, you could have sex. That is one way people tend to deal with that sort of issue."
Stede sighed and rubbed at his temple, shoulders slumping. "Not an option, unfortunately."
"Masturbation is often another option."
Stede hesitated, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair that creaked beneath him. "Not an option for me, I’m afraid."
"You could light a match, blow it out, and press the hot end to your wrist. That pain will distract your brain and redirect blood flow."
Stede looked horrified, his face pale as he imagined the sensation. "Will that actually work?"
"Well, if that’s too much, you could also flick your testicles repeatedly until it hurts. That would also likely reduce the erection."
"Ah. Okay."
"It sounds unpleasant, it is really. But that should have the effect you’re seeking."
Stede pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated and overwhelmed. The faint sound of a bird chirping through the window suddenly felt absurdly loud. "Those are all good pieces of advice. I really appreciate it. Thank you."
"Well, we appreciate your business—Oh. Wait. We didn’t get your business this time, did we?" the operator said, laughing.
"No," Stede chuckled, dryly amused. "Not this time. I guess I didn’t need it this time. Thanks again."
He hung up and sat there in silence, staring at the phone in his hand. The gentle tick of the clock marked the seconds of his continued discomfort. A timer dinged from the kitchen, pulling him back into reality and reminding him he had tea steeping somewhere—though it was far too late to save it now.
The next day, Stede stood awkwardly on the sales floor of Smart Tech, arms folded and posture overly proper. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, mingling with the occasional beep of scanners and distant customer chatter. Jackie walked up with her signature purpose-filled strut, her wooden hand gleaming under the store lights.
"Well, Stede. You are quite the terrific salesman. If Jackie had known how good you are with the customers before, you would’ve been out here sooner."
Stede flushed. "Well, thank you."
Jackie patted his shoulder with her wooden hand. The clap was heavier than expected and startled a slight flinch out of him. "Gonna be straight with you. You are one of the best salesmen we’ve had. Your numbers are good. So Jackie is gonna promote you to sales floor manager and put you out here full-time. Gonna get you a blue shirt and a tie."
Stede’s eyes widened. "Oh wow. Thank you, Jackie. That’s… very generous."
The soft chatter of customers and faint hum of background music seemed to recede as Jackie leaned in with her signature conspiratorial grin, her wooden hand perched on her hip like she was about to deliver a sermon.
Jackie gave a sly smile. "Jackie has also been thinking about your problem."
Stede blinked. "My… my problem?"
Jackie’s tone was practically sweet. "Yeah. Jackie might have a solution for you. You ever heard of the term 'fuck buddy'?"
Stede looked like he had been slapped with a fish. "Ugh, s’what?"
The word hung in the air. Jackie didn’t miss a beat.
"It’s a special friend who you fuck."
Stede stared, lips parting like he might object on a spiritual level, his eyes darting to the automatic doors as though he could make a break for it. "No, no I have not heard that term," he said, a breathless note of horror in his voice.
Jackie continued undeterred. "When Jackie was a little girl, I developed early. By the time I was fourteen, I had this body you are looking at. Can you imagine that?"
Stede found he could only whisper, visibly panicking. "No! I don’t want to!"
Jackie’s expression softened as she stared off into the distance, nostalgia casting a faint shimmer over her features. "Well, needless to say, Jackie got a lot of male attention."
"Like… men, yes," Stede whispered, his voice high and tight, beads of sweat beginning to form at his temple.
Jackie didn’t notice his near-collapse. "Especially from our Guatemalan gardener, Javier. You know, Javier, before he made passionate yet gentle love to me for the first time, he serenaded me with a beautiful Guatemalan love song."
Stede’s eyebrows were climbing higher by the second. He fumbled for a polite response. "Really… that sounds nice," he offered weakly, the words tumbling out like a reflex.
Jackie’s eyes glazed over as she sang, her voice rich and surprisingly melodic:
"Cuando arreglan mi cuarto No encuentro nada. Donde va con tanta prisa? Al partido de futbol."
The lights above flickered slightly as if the building itself wasn’t sure how to react.
Stede stood stock still, his posture locked in some unnatural blend of politeness and horror. He debated clapping. Or running.
Jackie fanned herself dramatically with her hand. "My goodness. I think we better get back to work."
"Yes. I better get back to work. Yeah. Okay," Stede mumbled, inching backward, retreating like a soldier from the battlefield of overshared personal history.
"You think it over. Jackie will talk to you soon."
As Stede retreated quickly, Jackie turned and walked back toward her office. The overhead lights glinted off the rim of her gold hoop earrings as she strolled through the electronics section like a matriarch surveying her domain. As she passed the furniture section, she gave the back of a sofa a solid kick.
Frenchie jolted upright with a gasp, eyes wide and completely disoriented. His hair was sticking up in all directions like he'd been electrocuted. "Where the fuck am I?!"
Chapter 13: Sex, Lies, and Folded Scarves
Summary:
Stede’s feeling the fallout from his first big date, and the support crew at Smart Tech has opinions. Between unsolicited advice, emotional spirals, and one very dramatic scarf-folding session, he’s faced with a choice: tell the truth, or keep fumbling in the dark—literally.
Notes:
Hi all - been super busy with work and life. Actually, my partner and I tied the proverbial knot yesterday. We thought it would be a laugh riot to elope and get married on April Fool's day. It's the kind of fun manic energy I like to maintain.
Hope you enjoy this one, it was (as has been the case with all the chapters that came before) a fun one to write. I would love to know your favorite moments and one liners.
Trying hard to keep to the film inspiration of 40 Year Old Virgin and our chaos crew of Our Flag Means Death.
Love y'all.
Chapter Text
Lucius leaned on the customer service counter, idly flipping through a glossy electronics brochure as Stede approached, looking sheepish and out of sorts. His hair was a little more ruffled than usual, and he had the air of someone who had seen something they could not unsee.
"Hey, how was the date with Ed?" Lucius asked, eyebrows raised as he looked up from the brochure with a spark of gossip-fueled curiosity.
Roach popped up from behind a stack of stereo boxes, one hand still inside a popcorn bag he’d brought from home. "Yeah, give us the deets. Don’t leave out the juicy parts."
Stede let out a deep, weary sigh and leaned against the counter like the date itself had aged him. "It was a disaster."
Lucius immediately perked up. "Really? What do you mean!?"
Stede rubbed the bridge of his nose, already cringing. "I have never been more embarrassed in my life. I could not get the condoms to work."
Roach froze, mid-chew. "Wait, what?"
Lucius blinked, lowering the brochure. "Condoms? As in plural, like more than one?"
Stede ignored the questions. "One of them exploded on my balls."
Both Roach and Lucius recoiled slightly, their faces twisted in a cocktail of horror and fascination.
"Like, exploded exploded?" Roach asked, waving a hand in a bursting motion. "Like pop goes the testicle?"
Stede deadpanned, "Yes, Roach. Exactly like that."
Lucius covered his mouth. "Oh, babe. That’s traumatic."
Stede pushed away from the counter, pacing now. "Then both of his roommates walked in."
Roach gasped. "Oh, he has roommates. But they just walk into his room? Are they like together? Like... poly?"
Lucius gave a knowing look. "Listen babes, I am all about sharing. Pete and I don't own each other, but he really should have told you about his partners. That's kind of bad form."
"It doesn't matter," Stede muttered, arms folded tight across his chest. "It was going straight downhill from there."
Roach leaned on the counter, interested now. "You don't want poly partner drama. Especially if he didn't say anything about them. I mean, sure, they could be..."—he made air quotes—"'roommates.' Or they’re a little threesome."
Lucius nodded thoughtfully. "Two of them, yeah?"
Stede nodded.
Lucius raised a brow. "Even if you were to get in with him, that's pretty advanced level stuff. Timetables, group chats, shared dates, and so much communication. It's not for the faint of heart. I mean, love it. I live for it. But Stedey... you really need to find a slow pace. Or just have singular hookups."
Stede squinted. "What the fuck are you talking about, Lucius?"
Roach piped in quickly. "Here’s what you do. Tell him you’re a virgin."
Stede recoiled like someone had thrown ice water on him. "What? No, I-I can't do that!"
Roach shrugged, tossing a kernel up high then caught it in his mouth. "It’s perfect. Test him with it. Tell him that you aren’t ready for advanced level relationship stuff, but that you need to take things slow."
Lucius nodded in agreement. "Yesss, love this. I mean, if you like him, talk to him."
Stede let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling like he was waiting for it to collapse and end his misery. "I can't. I just..."
He sighed so loudly, an older customer browsing DVD players flinched.
Roach sat his popcorn on the counter then clapped his hands, energized now. "Practice with me," he said, waving Stede over like he was directing a play. "Pretend I’m Ed, tell me."
Stede closed his eyes, shoulders slumped in surrender. "Fine. Ed... I am a virgin."
Roach squealed like a middle schooler. "Sweet. I love that. Because it means you don’t have chlamydia." He tapped the side of his head at his temple, "I know that shit is everywhere."
Stede’s frown deepened. "What if he laughs at me..."
"Then punch him in the throat," Roach said without hesitation.
Stede gasped. "What?! I can't punch him in the throat! He is actually quite sweet. He has kind eyes."
Roach furrowed his brow, chewing thoughtfully. "Fine, then do it metaphorically."
Stede’s tone softened as he looked at the floor. "Ed is different. He gets me. I feel like I have a connection with him."
Lucius chimed in, "Great. Love that. But right now, babes, you are just trying to bust a nut." He grimaced like he just ate something foul, "Ugh, hate that I even said that. Never saying that phrase again."
Stede ignored Lucius and turned to Roach. "I’m going to tell Ed."
Roach whooped, throwing his popcorn in the air. Lucius rolled his eyes but smirked.
"Good plan," Roach said. "I watched this movie called Liar, Liar. The message of that movie is don't lie. That was a smart movie."
Stede cracked a small smile. For the first time that day, he looked genuinely relieved. "Yeah. It’s a good plan."
Later that night, Stede was in his auxiliary wardrobe—a room that resembled a private gallery more than a closet. The walls were lined with polished walnut shelving, each section organized by fabric type and color gradient. Ambient sconces cast a soft, golden glow across racks of bespoke suits, vintage kimonos, embroidered waistcoats, and velvet jackets that shimmered slightly in the low light.
A Persian rug covered the hardwood floor, adding a touch of opulence to the already lavish space. The scent of lavender drifted from an oil diffuser on a delicate carved mahogany dresser in the corner, beneath which sat perfectly aligned shoe trees holding everything from classic brogues to flamboyant spats.
This was Stede’s sanctuary, his curated dreamscape of aesthetic delight, where every object held history, texture, and intention.
He was organizing a corner of the auxiliary wardrobe dedicated entirely to his vintage scarves—delicate textiles that deserved their own ceremony. Each box was opened with great care, the crinkling of tissue paper echoing softly in the opulent room.
The scarves came in a kaleidoscope of hues and textures: jewel-toned silks with hand-rolled hems, gauzy linens printed with faded botanical illustrations, and baroque patterns stitched in metallic thread that shimmered under the golden sconces.
Stede ran his fingers along the edge of each one as if greeting an old friend, laying them flat on a velvet-lined display bench before folding them with the same reverence he might show a sacred text.
He laid the scarves out carefully on his bed, admiring the rich colors and textures. Silk, satin, and fine gauze, each one a little piece of wearable art.
As he began folding them, he talked to himself aloud, more out of nerves than necessity. "Really? All your guy friends wanted to have sex with virgins, too?"
He gently folded a midnight blue scarf embroidered with tiny golden stars, smoothing it with precision before placing it in the drawer. "That’s funny. I didn’t even know guys liked that."
He picked up another, a cream-colored scarf with crimson filigree, and held it to his chest, mimicking an imaginary conversation. "I think my first time might be your best time, too. Well, I knew that you would react that way, and I knew that..."
He paused, caught up in the fantasy, his voice softer now. "...you would want to lead me through my first sexual encounter with all the compassion and care that someone would give their soulmate."
He stopped folding. For a moment, he stood there, scarf in hand, eyes closed.
Then he dropped it onto the velvet-lined bench beside him, exhaling with frustration. "God, what am I doing?"
The scarf slumped to the floor like a silk exclamation point. Stede stared at it, the tension still knotted tight in his chest, and sank down onto the velvet-lined bench, the same one where moments ago he had been arranging scarves with ceremonial care.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and dropped his head into his hands, breathing shallowly, the scent of aged fabric and lavender clinging to the air.
He wasn’t sure if this was romance, delusion, or an elaborate setup for disappointment. But something about Ed made him want to try. Maybe for the first time, he actually wanted to try.
He looked at the drawer full of perfectly folded scarves, their colors gleaming like hope.
"Okay," he said aloud, to the room. "Just... be honest. That's all."
And with that, he reached for his phone.
Chapter 14: It's Getting Hot in Here
Summary:
Still reeling from the awkward disaster that was his last attempt at romance, Stede steps into date night with Ed cautiously optimistic—and maybe just a little terrified. He’s trying to play it cool (which is hard when your upstairs neighbors are heckling and your fake ear icebreaker makes a return appearance). But even with the chaos, something about this night feels different. And Stede’s starting to think Ed might be, too.
Notes:
I love writing this one, I laugh so hard at my own writing. I irrationally love 40 YOV and OFMD.
Chapter Text
Stede was stepping out of his apartment, pausing briefly to look back inside. Since the great decluttering incident, he’d put things back together with a bit more care. The walls now held fewer framed pieces, and those that remained included his favorite maritime sketches and a modest portrait or two. It still felt like home, just a slightly calmer version.
The baroque mirror still had pride of place in the entryway, but the rest of the apartment leaned into a simpler look. A quirky lamp here, a globe over there—it was still unmistakably Stede, just a bit more measured.
He adjusted his outfit: a double-breasted navy blazer over a crisp white linen shirt, a burgundy silk cravat at his throat, grey slacks with a clean crease, and polished oxblood loafers. It was a classic look with just enough flair to still be him.
From the balcony above, his upstairs neighbors, Karl and Olivia, were in their usual spots—Karl sipping a beer and Olivia knitting something that may or may not have been a hat.
“Hey Stede, not coming round for Survivor tonight, mate?” Karl called down, waving casually.
Stede looked up, smiling, “Oh, not tonight. Sorry, I meant to mention. I have a date. Be sure to tape it for me?” He pointed toward the curb, where Ed stood waiting by his car with his hands in his pockets and a hopeful smile.
“Oh, yeah. Get it,” Karl replied.
“That man needs to get laid,” Olivia murmured without looking up from her knitting.
“Mhmm, you better get laying me,” she added, throwing Karl a mischievous glance.
Karl gaped at her. “Mercy, mercy, mercy… this woman.”
The question landed like a rock in Stede’s chest. His breath caught for a moment, and he pressed a hand to the edge of the table as if to steady himself. "Yes. Yes, I have."
Ed shifted in his seat, fingers drumming lightly against his water glass. "Sorry I didn't warn you about my very intrusive roommates."
Stede leaned forward slightly, softening his voice. "You should have told me, but honestly, not sure when the good time would have been," he said, then added a wink.
Ed blinked. Stede winked. Stede never winks.
Ed blushed, his ears going a bit pink. Stede clocked it. He saw it and allowed himself a quiet, inward celebration.
"I think we should take things slow," Ed said, voice a little more grounded now.
"Oh?" Stede asked, curiosity warming his tone as he leaned in just slightly, resting his elbows gently on the table.
Ed ran a hand through his hair, glancing down for a second before looking up with a tentative smile.
"I mean with the sex. Don't get me wrong, I am very attracted to you. It's just... I'm getting out of a bad situationship. A real jerk. Jack. I guess that’s why Izzy is a bit protective."
Stede nodded slowly, his fingertips brushing the rim of his glass. "Why didn't I think of that? Taking it slow would be good. I want to get to know you. I find that sex really complicates things."
Ed looked stunned, his eyebrows shooting up. "You sure? Most guys wouldn’t agree."
"I’m not most guys," Stede said, smiling softly. The candlelight caught the corner of his eye, glinting just enough to make the moment feel unusually cinematic.
Ed leaned back in his chair, studying Stede for a beat, then broke into a grin. "Yeah, right now, mate. But by the third date it'll be 'I really need to physically express how I feel...'”
Stede chuckled, swirling the ice in his glass. "Well hey baby, you know three dates... make it 10."
Ed laughed, louder this time. "Oh yeah? How about 15 dates?"
Stede puffed his chest like a proud rooster, grinning broadly. "Fifteen? Screw your 15. 20 dates!"
He smacked the table with just enough flair to rattle the silverware, sending Ed into another fit of laughter.
"Okay, 20 dates," Ed said, leaning across the table with his hand extended.
"This is genius," Stede grinned, clasping Ed’s hand with a theatrical shake as if they were finalizing an international treaty.
An hour or so later, Ed and Stede were heavily making out on Ed's couch. The room was dimly lit by a warm, low lamp in the corner, casting a golden wash over the vintage concert posters on the wall and the haphazard throw pillows strewn across the furniture. The air was thick with warmth and tension, the low hum of a forgotten playlist spinning quietly in the background.
"Mmm, so glad we are waiting," Ed said as he pawed at Stede, his hand gripping the edge of Stede's blazer.
"Agreed," Stede murmured between passioned kisses, his fingers tangled lightly in the back of Ed’s hair.
Things got a little hot and heavier. Legs entwined, their bodies pressed tighter. He could feel Ed's hardened length, he wanted to push into it. He wanted Ed to feel him, how much he ached for him.
Ed said into Stede's mouth, "This is one, right?"
Stede, still kissing Ed, hands skirting the edge of his shirt, said, "No, I think two."
They were just starting to escalate when the front door opened and the lights came on, flooding the room in an unwelcome brightness. In the doorway stood a very angry Izzy and an amused Fang, both still in jackets, having clearly just returned from somewhere.
Ed and Stede quickly straightened themselves, adjusting their clothes and trying to sit like they hadn’t just been mid-session.
"Do you have to sully our sofa?" Izzy asked, voice dripping with disdain as he dropped his keys into a bowl on the entryway table.
"Iz, lighten up," Ed replied, brushing his hair back and trying not to laugh. He looked at Stede with a pleased smile. "Stede, this is Israel or Izzy, and this is Fang."
Stede rose and reached out a hand to shake. Izzy ignored it with a dramatic sniff. Fang, however, grinned wide and enthusiastically shook it with both hands.
"It's nice to meet you. Ed talks about nothing else."
Stede blushed, caught off guard and pleased. Remembering his go-to move, he leaned into the moment. "Well, I’m sure my friends would say the same. Oh, Fang... what's that behind your ear?"
Fang blinked and reached back. Stede moved swiftly and produced a large fake ear with a flourish, making a dramatic ripping sound.
"Oh dear, it was your ear."
Fang squealed with laughter and clapped. Izzy looked murderous. Ed nearly fell over, laughing so hard he had to grip the arm of the couch.
"Do you just fucking walk around with a fake ear in your pocket?" Izzy spat.
"Pretty much, like half the time. I could come to your workplace, do a performance?" Stede beamed.
"Fucking twat," Izzy growled, face reddening as he yanked off his coat.
"Oh, don't mind Izzy. He’s just jealous," Fang chimed in, sing-song, still chuckling.
Stede started brushing his jacket down. "Well, I should be heading home."
Ed stood walking over to Stede, brushing a thumb along Stede’s wrist. "Oh really? Well, I have to give you a ride home."
Stede nodded. "Right. Yes, you do."
Izzy glared, folding his arms. "Yeah, because you don't have a car or anything, right?"
Stede met his gaze without flinching. "Right. I don't have a car."
"Cause he doesn't have a car and does magic. Real winner here, Ed."
"And sarcasm is like a second language to me. Actually, ecclesiastical Latin is my second language. Passive aggression is my third, but it’s a close tie with sarcasm. So, I am right there with you," Stede said evenly.
Ed burst into laughter again. Fang looked delighted. Izzy’s scowl deepened into something near volcanic.
Stede smiled with calm satisfaction and turned to Ed. "Shall we?"
"Oh, we shall."
Chapter 15: Postpone the Sex Cake
Summary:
Stede shares his “twenty date” game plan, Jackie senses weakness, and Lucius interviews a man named Swede who may or may not know what HDMI means. Just another completely average w
Notes:
Well, here we are. I hope you get all the little jokes sprinkled throughout. I really love when people catch them and comment. It makes me feel SEEN!
I know it's been a moment. Got married, work has been busier than usual, and have been sick.
Enjoy this chapter, I had a few laughs writing this one. Honestly, been laughing at myself each chapter for someone of the jokes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucius sat cross-legged on the floor of his living room, surrounded by soft pillows, empty teacups, and scattered sketch paper. His sketchbook was balanced across his lap, the smudged edges of previous drawings curling at the corners.
The afternoon sun filtered through gauzy curtains, casting gentle light across the room and making the charcoal dust on his fingers gleam slightly. He glanced up from his drawing and smiled at his subject.
"You have amazing cheekbones."
Fang, lounging naked and happily splayed across Lucius and Pete’s overstuffed sofa, giggled. "Awe, you're just being nice."
Lucius grinned. "Oh, babe. It’s true. You have amazing everything."
A half-dozen sketches were scattered around the floor and his drawing desk nearby, elegant figure studies of Fang in various states of calm, repose, and full frontal glory. Lucius’s current piece was a close-up of Fang's penis in all its charcoal sketched glory.
Fang luxuriated on the sofa, tossing back an arm dramatically with a giggle, "Drawing me like one of those French girls."
"Yeah," Lucius replied brightly. "And we are definitely going to act out a few scenes from that movie very shortly. I think Pete’s back soon. If you don't mind a third."
Fang blushed, his grin stretching wider.
Lucius’s cordless phone buzzed from the coffee table, lighting up with an incoming call. He sighed dramatically, like answering it would interrupt a masterpiece, and stood, wiping his hands on a paint-smeared rag that had seen better days. "Need anything, darling?"
Fang shook his head, melting deeper into the cushions like a happy, oversized cat.
Lucius disappeared into the kitchen, where the tile floor was cool underfoot and the scent of dried lavender hung in the air from a bundle tied above the sink. He answered with a chipper, "Hello?"
"Hi, just calling to let you know about my date yesterday," came Stede’s voice on the other end.
Lucius glanced at the clock. "Oh, How did it go? Did you tell him you’re a virgin?"
Stede sighed. "Ugh, no. I haven’t gotten to that yet."
Lucius sounded vaguely scandalized. "Really? I thought you were pretty resolute on telling him. Or are you calling me post-sex? Oh my god, do we need to get you a cake or something? Like an 'I just had sex' cake... I bet Roach could make—"
"Lucius. No. We did not. Ed was wonderful. We talked. Actually, we agreed to not have sex until after we’ve gone out on 20 dates."
Lucius made a noise like he was suddenly drowning. A choking cough followed, and the sound of a water glass being slammed down echoed faintly. "Are you kidding me?"
"We talked about his roommates. They’re just normal roommates, though I’m pretty sure that Iggy fellow is into Ed. He just has that vibe."
"What kind of vibe is that?"
"I don’t know, Lucius. Protective. Brooding. Murder-adjacent. That vibe."
Lucius groaned. "Okay, we are circling back. Twenty dates? No sex?"
Stede hesitated before launching in. "We were at dinner, and I was about to tell him—I really was. I’d built up to it. I was working up the nerve. Then right before I could, Ed blurts out that he wants to take things slow.
That his last relationship was messy, and sex got in the way too fast, too soon. He said he didn’t want to lead with physical stuff anymore. He wants to actually date someone, like date date. Just as I was mentally preparing to confess, he goes all vulnerable on me. So I agreed.
I told him I understood, and that maybe it would be good for us to build something slowly. That’s how the twenty-date idea happened. We both just kind of laughed and kept escalating. Ten dates turned to fifteen. I threw down twenty. We shook on it. We were still making out like teenagers later, but we meant it."
Lucius chuckled, "And you didn’t just burst into flames?"
"Lucius. He was being vulnerable. So I told him I’ve done that too...rushed things, messed it up. I said maybe it would be nice to build something slow."
Lucius was quiet for a beat. "Okay. That’s... disturbingly healthy. I’m kind of annoyed but also very proud."
A few days later at Smart Tech, the morning buzzed with its usual chaos: faint Muzak humming overhead, fluorescent lights flickering as they always did near the breakroom entrance, and customers already asking if this was where the printers lived.
Stede was mid-reorganization of the DSLR camera display, aligning the sample models with almost meditative precision, when Spanish Jackie’s voice cut through the din.
"Stede!"
He turned sharply, nearly knocking over a stack of promotional flyers. "Yes, Jackie?"
She strode toward him from across the floor with the confidence of someone who had never once been told no. Her boots clacked in sharp rhythm against the tile. "Numbers just came in and you are by far the best salesman that Spanish Jackie has seen. Even in the region."
Stede blinked, holding a lens cleaner cloth like it was a fragile artifact. "Oh. Well, I suppose I just have a certain flair."
Jackie squinted. "Nah, you’re just not a layabout like the rest of these idiots."
She stopped in front of him, all business. "Jackie is promoting you to Floor Manager. You report directly to Jackie."
Before Stede could respond, a voice barked from behind the TV wall. "This is bullshit! He’s an ass kisser!"
Charles Vane, wild-eyed and leaning halfway around a display of Bluetooth speakers, was clearly mid-meltdown.
Jackie didn’t even flinch. Her stare could have frozen lava. "You had the worst numbers, Vane. Jackie has a list of customer comments saying that interacting with you was quite literally torture. So calm the fuck down."
Stede stood frozen, unsure if he should step back or salute. "Thank you. That’s... great."
Jackie folded her arms, shifting her weight as she stared him down. "So. Jackie hears you have yourself a boyfriend?"
Stede tugged at the hem of his shirt, flustered, eyes darting toward a nearby display of portable speakers as if one might come to his rescue. "Yeah, I’m seeing someone."
"Jackie is very happy for you," she said evenly, her tone somewhere between genuine and sizing him up.
"Thank you. He’s great," Stede said, trying to smile and failing to make it past the nervous quirk of his mouth.
She cocked an eyebrow, tilting her head with the grace of someone about to drop an emotional anvil. "Still a virgin?"
His face flushed deep crimson almost immediately. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Oh, I don’t really talk about my personal life..."
"You’re a virgin."
There was a long pause, like the store itself had momentarily gone silent. Then Stede let out a quiet, resigned, "Yes. I am."
Jackie stepped in, closing the distance between them with almost supernatural quiet. She leaned in close, eyes locked to his like a cobra. Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "M'door is always open. Jackie is very discreet. But I will haunt your dreams."
Her breath smelled faintly of cinnamon gum and doom. She lingered too long, eyes unblinking, as if waiting to see if he'd combust. Stede didn’t move, caught between polite horror and the need to physically vanish into a cardboard cutout of a laptop display.
"So... so who’s going to take my job?" he asked at last, his voice breaking slightly with the relief of shifting topics.
Jackie stepped back and straightened, her boots creaking softly. "Spriggs. He’s interviewing people right now to fill his role."
Meanwhile, in the breakroom, where the air carried the constant undertone of burnt popcorn and the louder hiss of a vending machine that never quite worked, Lucius sat across from a tall, blonde man perched on the edge of his seat.
The man’s hands were folded tightly in his lap, and he wore the polite, eager-to-please expression of someone hoping to land a job he absolutely had no background in.
"Have you worked in electronics before... Es-Esb-jörn?" Lucius asked badly mispronouncing the man's name, squinting at the neatly folded resume in front of him.
The man gave a sheepish smile and bobbed his head. "You can just call me Swede? Most people do? I have never worked with the electronics, but I do own electronics?"
Lucius raised an eyebrow and gave a lopsided grin. "Great. That’s basically the job. You are seriously crushing this. Better than some of the other guys who think HDMI is a band."
Notes:
Okay, so...I did an update (I think I only mentioned him once) to now introduce Swede. I mentioned him in Chapter 1 and replaced that reference with Frenchie.
I don't know if I mentioned him elsewhere so more edits may be coming. It just felt more right to have him come up for this scene.
Chapter 16: Cue the Montage!
Summary:
Biking, kissing, cooking, crashing...Stede and Ed’s twenty-date plan is in full chaotic bloom. Between falling over handlebars and surviving backyard picnics with Izzy, Stede starts to believe he might actually have a future worth chasing. All he has to do now? Sell a few Chanel dresses, dodge Lucius’s commentary, and maybe open the dream shop he never thought he deserved. No big deal.
Notes:
Hi, hi, hi -- sorry I have been rather absent. Not for want of writing this mashup for you my darlings. Just life. I have been rewatching 40 year old virgin to give me renewed inspiration, despite having it practically implanted in my head. To the extent, I know the commentary just as thoroughly as I do the movie.
I hope you enjoy, we should be seeing more of Ed now that the date plan is into full bloom. Maybe some drama..actually, quite a bit of drama to come.
Chapter Text
Cue the montage sequence.
Stede and Ed had deeply committed to their dates. They biked together on a local trail, weaving through trees as the late afternoon sun dappled the path. Ed would sometimes lean over to bump his shoulder playfully against Stede's, causing him to wobble and yelp before laughing.
They held picnic luncheons in Ed's backyard, the small, slightly overgrown lawn providing just enough space for a folding table and a few mismatched chairs. Stede proudly showed off his cooking skills, bringing out artfully arranged plates with a flourish.
Fang always clapped enthusiastically, happy to try anything. Izzy remained predictably unimpressed, sitting stiffly with a beer in hand and muttering "fooking twat" whenever Stede placed anything fancier than chips in front of him.
The afternoons usually ended with Fang stretched out in the grass, Ed and Stede sharing secret smiles, and Izzy grumbling about wasted Sundays even though he never missed one of the backyard picnics.
Fang, however, was an easy win. Especially after discovering their mutual affection for Lucius, which led to more frequent group dates. Dinners stretched late into the night. Trivia nights got competitive in the best way.
Lazy weekend mornings blurred into afternoons spent lounging on sun-drenched porches, drinking too much iced tea, and laughing until their sides ached.
There was the infamous driving lesson in an abandoned parking lot. Stede gripped the wheel white-knuckled, squinting over the dashboard like he was preparing for battle. Ed, trying and failing not to giggle, gave instructions that only half made sense. Stede slammed the gas while in reverse, causing them to lurch backward with a screech.
Ed’s laughter filled the car, bright and unrestrained, as Stede screamed in terror and flailed his arms. They ended up leaning against the car afterward, laughing breathlessly, the sky above them endless and blue.
Ed started dropping by Smart Tech with lunch in tow. He would find Stede on the sales floor, kiss him hello, and sometimes forget to stop. Their noses would brush, their hands would linger, and they would talk in low, affectionate murmurs until a customer coughed awkwardly nearby.
Lucius would loudly gag in the background, dramatically fanning himself and muttering about "corporate PDA." Stede, never missing a beat, shot back one afternoon, "Oh please, Lucius. You and Pete dry-humped against the vending machine last Christmas party."
Lucius had only grinned, utterly unbothered, but the rest of Smart Tech still remembered. Ed giggled, he loved Stede's bitchiness. He had to kiss him about it more.
They were drawn together like magnets, helpless and thrilled about it.
By around date twelve, Ed surprised Stede with something special. After blindfolding him and leading him carefully to the front yard, Ed pulled off the blindfold with a triumphant "ta-da!"
There stood a brand-new bike and a bright, shiny helmet.
"Gave up on the driving thing," Ed said, grinning.
Stede practically tackled him with kisses, laughing breathlessly against Ed’s mouth. They spent the afternoon riding through the neighborhood, Stede wobbling comically but ecstatic, with Ed riding in easy loops around him, laughing whenever Stede yelled triumphantly after staying upright a full minute.
One morning, Stede was biking to see Ed, whistling to himself, lost in a haze of fondness, when his front tire found a particularly nasty pothole. In a blink, he was airborne, tumbling over the handlebars.
"Ooouugghhhhh," he groaned, lying flat on his back, staring up at the blue sky.
After a stunned moment, he started laughing, a deep belly laugh that echoed down the empty street. He rolled to his side, dusted himself off, raised his arms in victory, and shouted to no one, "I'm okay!"
Still chuckling, he righted his bike and pedaled toward Ed's house, heart full.
Later that evening, curled up on Ed's couch, the air cool against the windows and the soft hum of a record player spinning in the background, they lounged lazily.
Ed was tucked up on one side, one leg draped off the sofa and the other drawn up as he hugged his knee. His chin rested there, eyes soft, watching Stede like he was memorizing him.
"I want to know everything about you. Hopes. Dreams. Favorite sex position," Ed said with a crooked smile, voice warm and teasing.
Stede blushed, giggling into his hand. "I want to tell you."
Ed's smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Go on then."
Stede shifted a little closer, drawing courage from Ed's patience. "I want to own my store. Bespoke clothing, vintage, and one-of-a-kind creations. The kind of store you come into and find something you never knew you needed. As soon as you put it on and see yourself, your brain says, 'Oh, there you are.'"
Ed's eyes widened. He whispered back, "Oh, there you are."
Stede smiled shyly, feeling seen in a way that left him both breathless and steady.
"I don't mind Smart Tech. It’s a means to an end, I suppose. I was disinherited when I came out to my dad. He always hated me, so it wasn't a huge leap for him to cut me off. I wouldn't marry the woman they wanted. An arranged marriage, Ed. Mary was lovely, still is. She’s married to a man named Doug. They own an art gallery in Boston. I couldn't do that to her or myself."
Ed’s face darkened with anger. "Fuck him. Good riddance." He leaned forward, voice low and fierce. "Why don't you open up your shop? What about that vintage collection you told me about? If you have anything really valuable, you could sell a few pieces to get the startup money."
Stede turned the idea over in his mind, heart thudding. Was he willing to part with the pieces he had lovingly collected for years to build something new?
"You know," Ed continued, his voice turning light again, "I saw a Chanel flapper dress sell for like thirty thousand dollars last year."
Stede blinked in surprise. "I have three of them. All with their original boxes. And a matching wrap."
Ed’s eyebrows shot up. "Mate, you are sitting on a goldmine. Seriously. Even selling one or two pieces could give you enough to start your dream store."
Stede hesitated, but as he looked into Ed’s hopeful face, he felt a warm kind of certainty settle into him.
"I do have a few special pieces. Some originals...the Chanel flapper dresses from the 1920s, a Dior New Look jacket from 1947, and a Vivienne Westwood punk jacket from the seventies. There’s even a rare Hermès scarf collection I stumbled into during an estate sale."
Ed's face lit up, almost brighter than the lamp beside them. "That’s incredible! Those are worth real money, Stede. Serious, life-changing money."
Stede's heart skipped a beat, more from Ed’s encouragement than the thought of the sales themselves. "I just... some of them mean a lot to me."
"You don’t have to sell everything," Ed said quickly, his voice softening. He reached over, squeezing Stede’s hand firmly. "Just the ones you’re comfortable parting with. Keep the ones that matter most. I can even help you list them, get them appraised, whatever you need."
The idea of Ed helping, of being part of this dream, made Stede’s chest ache in a good way. The kind of ache that promised something real.
"I love that idea," Stede said, squeezing Ed's hand back. His voice was quiet but sure. "I really love that idea."
Ed beamed and gave his hand a little tug, pulling him closer, their foreheads resting together in quiet happiness. Neither said another word. They did not need to.
A few days later, Stede stood alone in his auxiliary wardrobe, the low light from the chandelier casting a warm glow over rows of carefully preserved garments. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood and old books, the comforting scent of his most precious things. He slowly moved through the racks, his fingers brushing along silk, velvet, and heavy embroidered fabrics.
He focused first on the pieces he had in multiples, trying to be practical. Three Chanel flapper dresses, nearly identical except for slight differences in the beading patterns. He could part with one, maybe even two. He had a few Hermès scarves he had bought simply because he loved the colors, not because he needed more. Those could go, too.
"Some of these," Stede muttered to himself, pulling out a vivid 1970s Vivienne Westwood jacket with exaggerated lapels, "I bought just because I could." He smiled fondly, folding it carefully.
The decision was not without heartache. Every piece had a memory attached, a story stitched between the seams. But Ed’s voice echoed gently in his mind: Keep the ones that matter most.
He stepped back, surveying the small pile he had built on the antique settee in the corner. It was not everything, not even most, but it was a start. A beginning, not a goodbye.
Carefully, he began packing the chosen pieces away, using archival tissue paper and sturdy boxes he kept for special occasions. Each garment was wrapped and tucked with almost reverent precision. The Chanel dresses were folded gently, two of them tucked into tissue with painstaking care while the third, his favorite with intricate silver beading, remained hanging proudly on its velvet hanger.
The Hermès scarves, a few chosen from the dozen he had collected impulsively over the years, were layered carefully, their colors peeking out in cheerful bursts. The Vivienne Westwood jacket nestled safely among them, a striking piece that never quite fit but was too bold to resist owning.
Stede paused to smile softly, knowing there were still pieces he would keep, the ones that spoke to him, the ones he dreamed of seeing proudly displayed in his own little shop one day. Stede labeled each box in his neat, looping handwriting.
He planned to take them over to Ed's house, Frenchie and Wee John were coming over with their van to take them over. That way, at Ed's they could spread them out, examine everything, and start the appraisal process together. Just the thought of Ed sitting beside him, giving that encouraging grin, made the weight of letting go feel a little lighter.
Chapter 17: Unexpected Friendship
Summary:
Stede starts his day managing sales and ends it managing a medical crisis no one could have prepared for. Ed’s in a panic, Izzy’s locked in the bathroom swearing at everyone, and somehow Stede ends up playing both therapist and chauffeur. It’s awkward, it’s ridiculous, and it just might be the start of a very unexpected friendship.
Notes:
This one had me laughing. See end of chapter notes. Comments, Kudos, and Subscribes are always welcome. I love hearing from y'all.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucius and Jackie stood near the main aisle, deep in conversation as The Swede passed by, hauling a massive plasma TV on a dolly. Despite the size of the television, he maneuvered it with surprising grace, his blonde hair catching the store's fluorescent lighting.
With his signature singsong voice, he smiled brightly and called out, "The sales crew are really selling the televisions today?"
Jackie leaned toward Lucius with a smirk. "Best hire ever. You think he would be interested in being Jackie's twentieth husband?"
Lucius gave a knowing smile, tilting his head like it was part of some master plan. "Oh, I have no doubt."
In another corner of the store, Roach paced near the stereo systems, visibly frustrated.
"This is bullshit. Why every time the schedule comes out I get the early shift? People don't buy at 10 in the morning. They buy stereo systems between 6 and 8. The rich guys get off work then buy stereos. Not after fucking brunch... speaking of, you know I like my mornings and earlier part of my day to practice my cooking."
Stede stood nearby, impeccably dressed in a navy blazer, crisp baby blue shirt with a neatly knotted tie that was unmistakably Stede, and chinos pressed to perfection. He was laying out info pamphlets near the camcorder display but paused to really listen.
"I am trying to be fair. I understand. How about this?" Stede looked Roach directly in the eye. "Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll give you a couple of Frenchie’s shifts, a couple of mine, and maybe we can see if someone else wants to swap as well."
Roach’s whole demeanor softened. His frustrated scowl melted into a wide, grateful grin. "Thank you, Stede."
"Of course, like I always say..." Stede smiled, smoothing out the pamphlets, "We talk it through as a crew."
Roach clapped him on the shoulder with an approving nod. "You are a good man, Stede." He took a few steps away before turning back with a mischievous grin. "Oh, hey... what date number are you and Ed on now?"
Stede beamed, his cheeks pinking slightly as he thought about it. Really, he was thinking of Ed. "I think it’s around seventeen. But it gets a little fuzzy on what actually counts as a date."
Roach tilted his head thoughtfully. "So that means you’re gonna have sex in three days."
Stede choked on nothing at all. "Oh, um... maybe? Probably going to space it out."
Roach laughed, pulling Stede into a hug and giving him a few solid pats on the back. "I will say prayers to Calypso for your cock."
"Oh, okay... thank you?" Stede stumbled over the words, blinking rapidly.
As Roach wandered off humming a sea shanty under his breath, Frenchie approached, wireless phone in hand.
"Hey, Ed’s on the phone." Frenchie handed it over before arching a sarcastic eyebrow. "There’s a shock. Boyfriend with a problem."
He wandered off again, still clearly bitter about his last breakup, muttering something about doomed romance and burnt spaghetti.
Stede pressed the phone to his ear, fingers tightening slightly as he made his way toward the quieter part of the sales floor. The hum of fluorescent lights and distant chatter faded into the background.
His heart gave a little jump at the sound of Ed’s familiar voice, but the smile that followed quickly faded as the tension in Ed’s voice settled over him like a heavy coat.
Ed’s voice was low and rushed, thick with panic, words tumbling out faster than usual, like he wasn’t sure how to say them and still couldn’t stop talking.
"Stede. You’ve got to come over. It’s Izzy. It’s... Jesus Christ, it’s a whole thing."
Stede barely has time to respond before Ed blurts, "He’s locked himself in the bathroom and he’s screaming at me. Just—just get over here. Now."
When Stede arrives, the apartment is chaos. Ed is pacing the living room like a man about to walk into battle. Fang is sitting on the couch, wide-eyed and nervously sipping chamomile tea, completely useless. The occasional thud echoes from behind the bathroom door followed by Izzy’s very loud, very distressed voice.
"Why are you telling that twat my business?!"
Ed throws his hands in the air. "I panicked! He’s here now!"
Stede looks around, confused. "Ed... what exactly is happening?"
Ed runs a hand through his hair, his face flushed. "You want the whole embarrassing truth? I walked in on him, by accident—while he was... well, trying to fish something out. And now he’s locked himself in there and won’t come out."
Stede was so confused by the term "fish something out." Did Izzy flush his keys down the the toilet, he wondered.
From behind the door, Izzy yells again, "And you’re still talking about it, you absolute tosser!"
Ed groans and sinks onto the arm of the couch. "He’s got a... um... a situation involving a bullet vibrator. And it’s... stuck."
Stede blinks several times, his brows furrowing. His eyes darted around the apartment, as if he could physically locate the source of the problem through sheer confusion.
His lips parted like he was about to ask where exactly it could be stuck when realization dawned on his face with almost comedic clarity, "Oh. Oh my."
He turned to Ed, wide-eyed, his expression silently asking in there?
Ed gave him a slow, grim nod of confirmation. Fang giggled from his seat on the sofa watching Stede and Ed.
From behind the bathroom door, as if he had read the entire silent exchange, Izzy’s voice rang out sharp and furious. "Fuck off, you wankers!"
It takes some calming whispers and a firm hand on Ed’s shoulder before Stede steps up to the bathroom door. He knocks gently, schooling his face into something calm and composed.
"Izzy, it’s Stede," he says in his most soothing voice.
From inside, a very flustered growl. "Fuck off."
Stede lets out a slow, practiced breath and slips fully into his dad-mode. "Look, whatever it is, we can sort it out. No judgment here. I just want to help."
There’s heavy breathing from the other side, followed by a strangled, "It’s lost."
Stede winces sympathetically. "Would you like me to take you to the doctor? Maybe a nice clinic unless you think this is more of an ER situation?"
He hears a few sniffling breaths, and Izzy’s voice comes through again, much smaller this time. "No ER. Do you think the clinic can help?"
"I can make some calls," Stede offers gently. "And I’ll take you myself. I can’t drive, but we’ll figure it out."
Izzy lets out a dry, humorless laugh. "I’m fine to drive, Bonnet. Just... come with me."
Stede quickly tracks down a discreet clinic that specializes in these sorts of emergencies and assures Ed that things are under control. The drive to the clinic is silent. Izzy grips the wheel with white knuckles, eyes fixed straight ahead like he’s facing the firing squad.
At the clinic, Stede helps Izzy check in, staying close without crowding him. In the waiting room, Stede’s eyes land on a medical statue illustrating male anatomy. He stares, wide-eyed, at the overly detailed model of the prostate and quietly whispers under his breath, "Oh, there you are..."
He leaned in closer to the model, curiosity getting the better of him as he tried to figure out exactly what he was looking at. His fingers brushed against one of the delicate components, and before he could react, the entire thing collapsed like a cheap deck of cards.
Stede froze in horror, hands fluttering above the mess before he frantically tried to reassemble it. Plastic anatomical parts clattered as he fumbled them back into place. He glanced around the waiting room, face burning, praying no one had noticed his complete failure at human anatomy and public decorum.
Izzy is eventually called back. He hesitates in the doorway, glancing sideways. "Bonnet... would you, uh... mind?"
Stede follows him back. In the exam room, both men sit awkwardly on either side of the room. After an X-ray confirms the location of the offending bullet vibrator, the doctor comes in with a bright smile and a truly astonishing lack of shame.
He explains the procedure and casually starts sharing stories about all the bizarre objects he’s encountered over the years. Tennis balls. Remote controls. A vintage action figure. Toy car in a condom. Stede’s eyes grow impossibly wide with each new example. Izzy notices and, despite everything, lets out a short, sharp laugh.
When the doctor casually refers to Stede as Izzy’s boyfriend, both men sputter, speaking over each other, falling into a bumbling heap of denials.
"Just friends," Izzy finally manages to say.
Stede is taken aback by the admission, he thought Izzy hated him. This was just a fluke of a situation because he thought maybe Stede going with was easier than letting Ed or Fang come along.
But Izzy finally relaxes, sighs deeply, and gives Stede a rare, genuine smile. "Go on, Bonnet. Step outside."
After the successful removal, the drive home is quiet but less tense. The worst is over.
Halfway back, Izzy clears his throat and stares out the window. "You’re a virgin, aren’t you?"
Stede opens and closes his mouth like a confused goldfish. Before he can answer, Izzy waves it off. "It’s fine. No shame in it. But you should probably tell Ed."
Stede exhales a shaky laugh. "Yeah... I plan on it. I really do. I tried before, but then we agreed to wait until after twenty dates and, well..."
Izzy lets out a proper laugh this time, shaking his head. "Fucking hell, you two are perfect for each other. Idiots."
This time, the words don’t sting. There’s no bite behind them. And for the first time, Stede feels like he’s actually gained a new friend, even if that friend is Izzy.
Notes:
So, in the movie 40 Year Old Virgin, the love interest Trish has daughters. Her teen daughter, Marla played by Kat Dennings, locks herself in the bathroom scream crying. She wants to get on birth control to have sex with her boyfriend. It's a whole thing, Andy volunteers to go with her to the Family Health Clinic. It is totally awkward and funny, very dated kind of funny.
In my story, Izzy is our Marla. I sat here for what felt like forever wanting to write an equivalent scenario. I had a few, but this one won out because I laughed way to hard at my own version. I laughed a lot just writing it out.
There is one small micro reference to something that I remember from Jackass, if you catch it -- Kudos.
I really hope you are enjoying this as much as I am enjoying writing it. As I said before, I have an irrational love for 40YOV. I wish I could tell you why.
Chapter 18: Gandhi Baked
Summary:
Frenchie sells a TV thanks to the power of Michael McDonald, Jackie plans a Gandhi-themed weed binge, and Stede and Ed finally hit their twentieth date—only to watch everything unravel under a pile of vintage jackets and Very Big Feelings. Turns out, passion and preservation don’t always mix.
Notes:
We will earn our rating -- big feelings and a lot of pent up everything!
Chapter Text
On the Smart Tech sales floor, Jackie and Roach were huddled near the service counter, the low murmur of fluorescent lights and distant chatter blending into the background. Jackie leaned in conspiratorially, glancing around before lowering her voice.
"You got any weed?"
Roach’s grin stretched wide, almost smug. "Yeah. Totally."
Jackie gave a satisfied nod, arching a brow. "Can you spare any?"
"How much are you needing?" Roach asked, already intrigued.
Jackie held up one perfectly manicured finger. "Enough to get Jackie baked for a week."
Roach’s eyebrows shot up. "That’s a lot of weed."
Jackie shifted closer, casually tilting her head toward The Swede, who was across the floor gracefully maneuvering a flat cart stacked with boxed TVs.
"Jackie has a week of vacation coming. A sweet little staycation. Might have my future husband over," she said with a smirk, watching The Swede’s blond ponytail bounce as he moved. "But mostly, it’s just for Jackie."
Roach let out a short laugh. "Don’t you already have, like, twenty husbands?"
"You're funny. Jackie can’t help she has strong sexual magnetism. It’s a burden. Why, you want to be husband number twenty-two?"
Roach threw his head back, laughing maniacally. "So just staying in and getting baked out of your mind?"
"That’s the plan," Jackie said with a nod, clearly pleased. "Watch TV. Maybe rewatch Gandhi."
Roach looked thoughtful, tapping his temple. "Gandhi baked is good. I always feel bad watching it while baked though...get the munchies bad and just eat and eat."
Their eyes met in perfect comedic timing as they declared in unison, "While poor Gandhi is starving his ass off."
In the electronics section, Frenchie was hanging onto the last threads of his patience. A very enthusiastic customer stood before a wall of TVs like a general before his troops, remote in hand, ready to command. Michael McDonald blared across the showroom, the soulful strains of a live performance vibrating through the mounted flatscreens.
The customer stood with both hands planted firmly on his hips, eyes wide with nostalgia. "This sounds good," he declared, voice nearly swallowed by the music.
Frenchie, arms crossed and posture slouched in supreme disinterest, replied with a flat, "Yeah."
The customer grinned, gripping the remote like a weapon. "I'm gonna take her to capacity. You okay with that?"
Michael McDonald’s vocals soared with “Minute by Minute” as the volume climbed rapidly. Frenchie gave a weak thumbs up, wincing like he’d just stubbed his toe on capitalism. "Give it a shot."
The customer was practically vibrating. "Aw yeah! Michael McDonald, man. I haven’t heard this in years!"
"Yeah, I haven’t heard it in like forty-eight minutes," Frenchie muttered, dry as a desert.
The customer turned to him, full of joy and slightly shouting over the now-deafening concert. "If I get the set, will you throw in the DVD?"
Frenchie didn’t even blink. "Even if you don’t get the set, I’ll throw in the DVD."
The customer considered this with reverence, nodded like he was being knighted by the ghost of soft rock, and proclaimed, "I’ll take it."
Frenchie blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah."
Frenchie let out a disbelieving chuckle and clapped the man on the shoulder. "Oh ho ho, alright man. Great choice. Enjoy the McDonald multiverse."
Back at Ed's place, his bedroom looked more like a temporary packing zone than a sanctuary. The bed was made, but barely visible beneath the spread of open boxes, folded clothing, and shipping supplies. A folding table was wedged between the dresser and the bed, draped in packing tape rolls, Sharpies, and padded envelopes. Cardboard boxes lined the far wall, each labeled meticulously in Ed’s familiar block-letter handwriting.
Stede sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully folding a silk scarf between layers of tissue paper. His brows furrowed with concentration as he arranged it just so, every motion deliberate. Ed was nearby, perched on an old wooden dining chair, a packing list in one hand and tape in the other, watching him with equal parts affection and disbelief.
"This guy, Richard Banes, has bought like fifteen of these scarves," Ed said, waving the slip.
Stede looked up, eyes wide. "Really?"
"I think he likes vintage accessories more than you do."
"Is that even possible?" Stede asked with a laugh.
Ed chuckled and tossed the slip onto the table before standing and tugging Stede up from the floor. He led him over to a tiny loveseat nestled between two stacks of boxes, and they collapsed into it in a familiar heap. Ed curled into Stede’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck, their noses brushing as they grinned.
"Mmm, what's the other good news, darling?" Stede asked, planting a kiss on Ed’s temple.
Ed beamed. "Do you know what tonight is?"
Stede blinked. "Survivor night?"
Ed laughed, then kissed him deeply. "No, love. It’s our twentieth."
Stede’s eyes widened. "Are you sure? I thought it was eighteen. I mean, does the IKEA trip even count?"
"Counts in spirit. We walked those aisles like lost souls. That’s a date. I’ll even count the smoothie run. I just can’t wait anymore. I want you."
His voice grew husky, hands beginning to wander. "I really like you. I think I’m falling for you."
"I do too," Stede whispered.
"Let’s go wild," Ed murmured, pushing Stede gently back into the loveseat.
As their embrace grew more intense, Ed’s foot nudged an ottoman stacked high with jackets. The pile spilled onto the floor with a muted thump.
"Wait—the jackets!" Stede gasped, scrambling up.
Ed groaned. "Later. They're just clothes."
"They’re not just clothes!" Stede replied, lifting a jacket with both hands like it was something precious and fragile. He held it in the air, checking its lines with a sharp eye. "One wrinkle and the integrity’s lost. It loses the value, even with restorations it's just not the same."
Ed stood from the wooden chair beside the bed, letting the roll of tape drop onto the table. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "Fine. We’ll be gentle with the holy relics."
Stede turned toward the bed, laying out a Louis Vuitton jacket carefully across the duvet. He smoothed the shoulders with his fingertips. "This is a 1987 runway piece. I saved for years. Never even wore it."
Ed’s brows pinched together. He shifted his weight, glancing down at the mess of scarves and jackets still waiting to be packed. "So it’s more important than me?"
"No," Stede said, not looking up. "It’s part of who I am. You said sell it. Like none of this matters."
"I thought I was helping! You wanted to be more than a stock room guy. Sure, I helped to try to teach you to drive but then I got you that new bike."
"I’ve grown. I’m a sales floor manager now. I like my bike. Einstein had a bike."
Ed snapped, "Einstein also had a wife, who he fucked."
Stede flinched, taken aback. He clutched the hem of the jacket and turned to face him. "Why does it always come back to sex?"
"Because you won’t sleep with me and I don’t know why!"
Stede opened his mouth, searching for the words. "Even if you cut off Izzy’s toe and fed it to him, I’d still love you. That’s not why. I just can’t. I’m trying."
Ed’s face softened just a fraction before hardening again. His voice dropped, flat. "Try somewhere else."
Stede looked at him for a beat, then grabbed his helmet from where it was resting near the dresser. Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the room, his boots thudding against the wood floor. His eyes were glassy as he reached the front door.
"If that’s the way you want it," he muttered, swinging open the door and strapping on his helmet, "that’s the way homey’s gonna play it."
Chapter 19: Bikes in Trunks
Summary:
Stede has officially gone off the rails.
Fueled by heartbreak and tequila, he storms into the club where the whole crew is out celebrating, downs four shots in record time, and starts announcing to anyone who'll listen that he's hunting for "some hos." Lucius is horrified. Frenchie is speechless. Roach is just along for the ride.
In the middle of a truly unhinged drunk rant, including flapping his arms like a muppet and declaring his need for “genital-to-genital connection”. And Stede doubles down on bad decisions by cozying up to Jack (yes, that Jack). Despite all of his friends scrambling to keep tabs on him, Stede slips away into the nigt... with Jack on his arm and chaos hot on his heels.
Someone needs to stage an intervention. Probably soon.
Notes:
This is a fun chapter. The next one is going to earn our rating.
Also, if you’re on the clock app and know who Chit is…you’ll find the Easter egg. 🫰🏼💅
Chapter Text
Stede is riding down a busy street on his bike like a man on a mission. His hurt feelings and frustrations about everything fuel every pump of his legs as he pedals faster and faster. He’s not thinking about where he’s going.
He’s just moving forward, breath heavy, fingers clenched tight around the handlebars.
He weaves through traffic with a single-minded drive, ignoring the honks and the world around him. He’s on autopilot, and before he realizes it, he’s not heading home.
His legs have carried him to the club Lucius mentioned earlier in the week. The whole crew is supposed to be out celebrating.
Inside the club, Lucius is leaning on the bar next to Jackie, both watching the dance floor and sipping their drinks. Jackie’s eyes keep drifting toward the Swede, who is dancing to an ABBA club remix. He’s wearing a tight white tee and cargo pants that somehow look good on him, despite being slightly too big. He moves like he’s never danced before and is just now discovering that limbs can do that.
Lucius clocked her stare and smirked. "Listen babes, are you going to make eyes at him all night or are you going to make your move?"
Jackie cut him a sharp look, the kind that might send lesser men ducking for cover. Lucius didn’t flinch—he’d had a few drinks already so her stare meant nothing to him.
"Whatchu think Jackie is doing? Just plotting my move. He is a sweet thing, ain't he?" She gave the Swede a bold wave and threw him a kissy face followed by a wink. The Swede stumbled over his feet, caught her gaze and looked like a deer in headlights, then gave an awkward half-wave and nearly knocked over someone’s drink.
Lucius groaned dramatically.
"Watch it, Spriggs," she shot at him, her eyes still on the dancing Swede.
He swirled his straw around in his drink. "I hired him for you. I mean, sure he’s doing a good job, but the man is almost klutzier than Stede."
Jackie blinked at him. "You hired him for Jackie?"
"Obviously, totally your type. Even if you have, like… what, nineteen other husbands in the wings? I totally should have hired someone way stronger, but he's fun to have around."
Jackie let out a delighted laugh, slapped Lucius on the shoulder and stood up. "Time for mama to make her move."
Lucius grinned, raising his glass. "Do it, lady!"
Just then, Stede stormed up to the bar like a thundercloud in chinos. Lucius turned in surprise.
Stede slapped a hand on the bar. "Two shots of tequila."
The bartender barely blinked before grabbing two glasses and pouring.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I love a good tequila shot, but it’s so early in the evening, babes."
Before Lucius could finish, Stede downed both shots back-to-back. He signaled for two more. Then, looking at Lucius, he raised a brow. "Oh, did you want one?"
Lucius leaned in. "What the hell, Stede! Are you okay?"
"Peachy," Stede said flatly before knocking back the next two and ordering a vodka tonic—double. Without another word, he wandered off toward Frenchie and Wee John.
Lucius, concerned now, scanned the club for Oluwande. Something was very wrong.
As the night progressed, the crew enjoyed themselves while Lucius and Olu, now roping in Jim, began quietly assigning shifts to keep an eye on their rapidly unraveling friend.
Stede was in the middle of a rant, arms flailing as he spoke to Frenchie. Wee John had joined Lucius and Pete on the dance floor. He tossed back another mysterious drink that burned a little too much. It tasted zangy and tangy.
He slammed the glass down. "I need some dick-kuh."
Frenchie choked mid-sip, spraying his drink slightly. "Uh, what?"
Stede nodded with solemn, drunken sincerity. "You all were so right from the beginning. I need genital-to-genital connection. And that’s all I need."
He paused, then added, "Do you know what happens in a relationship? One person goes blah, blah, blah." He demonstrated with his tongue hanging out flapping his mouth like a muppet.
Roach approached slowly, giving Frenchie a look that clearly asked, what is happening?
Frenchie just shrugged helplessly.
Stede continues, slurring his words and swaying slightly, "The other person goes, 'what are you talking about?'..." He flopped his hands beside his head like flapping ears and contorted his face in exaggerated confusion.
"Then one person goes, wah thwah thwah-haha," he added, letting his tongue hang loosely out of his mouth while flapping his hands in a dramatic imitation of chaotic relationship arguments.
"How many have you had to drink, man?" Roach says.
Stede looked at them both, frustrated. "How much have I had to drink?" He pointed accusingly, wobbling slightly. "How many pots have you smoken? Yeah… riddle me that!"
He shifted to adjust himself on the sofa, forgetting where the edge was and nearly sliding off the side. He flailed a bit and caught himself just in time, teetering with a dramatic wobble before one hand landed squarely on Frenchie’s thigh.
Frenchie let out a startled squeak, nearly dropping his drink as Stede leaned against him with all the coordination of a newborn foal in a wind tunnel.
"Seriously, what are you talking about?" Roach asked, cautious and confused.
Stede whipped his head toward him as he settled himself on the sofa, "Oh, how many times have you gone to the bathroom in your life? You don’t have an answer to that, do you? No! You don’t!"
He looked between them as if he’d made a powerful point, then got uncomfortably close to both of them as he leaned forward. "Fuck you."
Frenchie raised his hands in surrender. "Woah, calm down."
Roach simply nodded, eyes wide.
Suddenly, Stede’s expression softened. "I’m sorry. You are both so great. You are such good guys. I appreciate you both."
Lucius arrived with Pete who smiled as he saw Stede.
Pete slapped Stede on the shoulder. "Hey Stede, I didn’t know you came already."
Stede shot upright in a drunken flourish, wiggling like a drunk eel. "Hey, hey, hey Motherfucker!"
Pete laughed, but Lucius blinked slowly, staring at Stede like he was an imposter.
"You know what you guys," Stede declared, gesturing broadly. "Tonight is the night!"
He leaned into Pete’s ear, locking eyes with Lucius. His voice was a high-pitched stage whisper. "You guys were totally right and I was wroooooong. So right."
He shifted to Lucius letting Pete go but not before rubbing Pete's bald head, then wrapping him in an overly affectionate hug he leaned in close saying loudly, "You cannot have a relationship until you have sex. That is the long—that is the long and short of it."
He kissed Lucius twice on the side of his head.
Lucius pulled back. "Holy fuck, Stedey. Thanks… but uh, what is going on?"
Stede threw his arms in the air. "And now—I have to hunt for some hos!"
He wandered off cackling, disappearing into the crowd.
The group stared after him in collective shock.
Frenchie turned to no one in particular. "Do you think he’s going to be all right?"
Roach shook his head. "No, man. I don’t think he is."
Lucius told Pete to stay there and watch their drinks. He pulled Frenchie and Roach with him to find Olu and Jim.
Stede had slipped away into the crowd like a man evaporating into bad decisions. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he was determined to find it.
The bass thudded under his feet, each pulse of the music matching the rhythm of his alcohol-soaked thoughts. He ducked around a tall couple making out near the speaker stack, spun out of a tight crowd knot, and stumbled almost directly into Jack.
Jack blinked and broke into a wide, sloshed grin. "Hey there hot stuff, didn’t expect to see you tonight baby."
Stede grinned, his cheeks pink, eyes hazy. "Hey yourself. Are you glad to see me?"
Jack reached out and tapped him on the nose. "Oh yeah, you’re making my whole night."
Stede stepped in closer, swaying slightly as he gave Jack’s outfit a once-over. Jack wore low-rider bootcut jeans and a sheer button-up shirt unfastened nearly to his waistband. The fabric clung damply to his chest. Under the pulsing strobe lights, the whole ensemble sparkled like an early-2000s disco fever dream.
Stede leaned in, eyes half-lidded. "How are you doing?"
Jack’s mustache brushed Stede’s cheek as he spoke close, grinning. "Much better now that I’m talking to you."
Stede leaned back with exaggerated eyebrows. "Hey lookie, I can see through your shirt... nicceee."
Jack snorted and almost spilled his drink. "So, you think we should take this party back to my apartment or what?"
Stede responded without hesitation, "I am RSVPing yes."
Jack threw his head back in laughter.
Stede slapped a nearby cocktail table for dramatic effect. "Hope your car has a big trunk, 'cause I am going to put my bike in it."
Jack was howling. "God, Stede—hey-o. Let’s go."
He bumped Stede with his hip, spinning them both in a tipsy half-circle, and started leading the way toward the exit.
Unbeknownst to Stede, just a few feet behind them, Olu and Jim stopped mid-step. They had been scanning the crowd and caught the moment Stede and Jack locked eyes.
Olu’s brow furrowed. "Is that... Jack?"
Jim nodded, expression grim. "And Stede just left with him."
Without another word, they followed.
Chapter 20: No Mustache Rides
Summary:
Ed realizes he’s in love with Stede—just in time for Stede to be in the worst possible place: half-naked in a bubble bath nightmare with Calico Jack. While Ed races to make amends, Stede finds himself trapped in a horror show of mustache kisses, detachable showerheads, and way too much moaning. Thankfully, Lucius and the gang arrive just in time to stage an emotional (and mildly chaotic) extraction.
Chapter Text
Ed sat at his dining table looking forlorn as he slowly cut the tape around the edges of a package he had prepped earlier. A beer sat beside him, open but untouched. He felt like shit, replaying the events from earlier with Stede. His horniness really got in the way this time. He sighed and set the scissors down. He just really lo—
He paused, eyebrows drawing together. Huh. He loved Stede. Not just liked. Not just wanted. Loved. That snuck up on him, but there it was. Love shouldn’t hinge on sex.
He’d teased Stede about being the one who couldn’t handle the no-sex rule, but clearly, it was him. He was the one who couldn’t handle it. Not with those hazel eyes, that beam-of-sunshine smile, those ridiculous curls. Those fucking legs. That soft but solid strongman build that left Ed practically panting. He’d taken himself in hand more than once thinking about it.
The front door opened. Izzy walked in, tossing his keys into the bowl with a rattle.
"What’s the matter? I thought you and Bonnet were having a night in."
Ed looked up, hollow-eyed. "We had a fight... He left. Stormed out. I think I fucked it up."
Izzy moved to the table and sat down opposite him. "What happened?"
Ed opened his mouth, hesitated, then blinked. "Wait... I thought you hated him?"
Izzy chuckled. "I don’t hate him, per se. I mean, yeah, he does magic and he's kind of a ponce. But... he's good for you. I like seeing you happy, Ed."
Ed's eyes welled up. "Fuck you."
"Nothing is that important you can’t talk it out," Izzy said softly.
Meanwhile, across town...
Stede sat cross-legged at the foot of Calico Jack’s bed, cradling a glass of aggressively bad whiskey while Jack performed a gyrating strip tease to a synth-heavy remix of something that might have once been a pop hit.
The lighting in the apartment was dim and oddly pink. A lava lamp bubbled on a shelf. A glowing aquarium tube pulsed neon purple. It looked like a strip club and a bachelor party had gotten drunk and redecorated.
"Let me dance for you," Jack said, winking as he dramatically rolled his shoulders, swaying his hips to the thudding beat of the remix that echoed off the tacky, padded walls.
Stede tilted his whiskey glass in salute. "Look at your chest and your arms and everything," he slurred admiringly. "You are so hot."
Jack wiggled his eyebrows and flexed both biceps like a drunk Chippendale. "You're pretty fuckin' hot yourself," he grinned, voice thick with vodka and bravado.
"We should have sex," Stede declared, far too loudly, his voice cutting through the music like a squeaky record scratch.
Jack barked a laugh, nearly tripping over a rug shaped like a naked woman. "Yeah, man, that's the idea."
He twirled, bent slightly, and shimmied his ass like he thought he was starring in a burlesque act. Glancing over his shoulder, he added with a sultry tone that barely masked his giggling, "We can do it in the... butt, if you want to."
Stede blinked, squinting like he was trying to solve a riddle. "But if I want to what?"
Jack doubled over, laughing. "Butt."
Stede waved his hand lazily as he laughed no idea what they were talking about. The room’s pink-tinted glow made everything feel like a surreal fever dream. "But what?"
Jack said, "Do it," with a dramatic pelvic thrust.
"Do it," Stede parroted, giggling he rose from the bed.
"What?" Jack blinked, confused but clearly enjoying himself, his cheeks flushed with alcohol and effort.
Their voices collided, both too drunk to follow the nonsense. And then they were laughing, loud and unrestrained, falling into each other and cackling like middle schoolers who’d just discovered the word 'butt' was still hilarious.
Cut back to Ed, throwing on his leather jacket and slamming the front door behind him. He was going to fix this.
Back at Jack's, Stede was unbuttoning his shirt, drunkenly singing, "Bow chicka bow bowww... Yeah, okay," and revealing the man-o-lantern wax job on his chest.
Stede looked down giggling, "Oh, yeah...that was a fun day."
Jack guffawed. "You are so kinky."
Stede giggled, his cheeks flushed and voice syrupy with alcohol. "Yeah, I did this because I am so kinky." He ran a hand over his chest, the faint sting from his unfortunate wax job still lingering like a weird badge of honor.
Jack reached out and rubbed his palm across Stede's chest with exaggerated awe. "You like to shave, don't you?" he said, eyes wide and suggestive.
Stede hiccuped slightly. "Let's shave each other," he offered, blinking slowly as the suggestion lodged itself somewhere between absurdity and sincerity.
Jack leaned in with a grin. "Oh, um... where?" His tone was playful, but the glint in his eye was all too serious.
"Everywhere," Stede slurred with a lopsided smile, throwing his hands out as if making an announcement.
Jack snorted and said, "I wanna shave your head," like it was the pinnacle of seduction.
He moved in close, voice dropping into what he clearly thought was a sexy purr. "Let's take a bath."
Stede nodded enthusiastically, his limbs a little loose and uncoordinated. "I wanna do whatever you want to do."
Ed sat behind the wheel of his car, the engine humming softly beneath him as the glow from a passing streetlamp illuminated his face in fleeting bursts. One hand on the steering wheel, he fumbled with his Nokia mobile and pressed call. He got Stede's voicemail.
"Hey mate, it’s me," he began, his voice low, almost sheepish. "Listen, I’m on my way to your house. I want to do whatever you want to do. Fifty dates, a hundred... I mean, I really hope not, but whatever." He paused, glancing down at his phone like the message might offer comfort in return. "I’m going to see you soon, okay? Bye."
Back at Jack's, the bathroom steamed. Jack stripped Stede’s pants down to his boxer briefs, snapping his belt on his own thigh. "Wow," Stede whispered nervously.
Stede clutched himself over his boxer briefs that almost came off with his pants, he squeaked, "You almost saw my peter!" Stede recoiled, hearing what he said, "Nope, not calling it that."
He did not want to think about Pete or Lucius right now.
Jack ignored him. He stepped forward and gave Stede a kiss that was all teeth and wet mustache, the kind of kiss that felt like someone trying to sandpaper his soul. Stede winced, lips awkwardly parted as Jack bit down lightly on his bottom lip with a grin. Jack pulled back with a flourish, eyebrows wiggling. "Come to daddy."
Stede stood there, stunned, brain trying to catch up as the lingering tickle of Jack’s mustache danced across his upper lip. That mustache really was weird.
Stede was increasingly sober and now just confused. Jack popped a bubble bath tab in, settled into the tub, and pulled out a detachable showerhead.
"Let me introduce you to my special little friend," Jack purred, brandishing the detachable showerhead like it was a trophy. He flicked the nozzle on with a dramatic flourish, sending a pointed stream of water arcing into the already steaming tub.
Stede blinked at it, tilting his head. "Your friend is shiny."
Jack let out a blissful moan, his other hand nonchalantly dropping a disturbingly large silicone plug onto the porcelain edge with a soft thunk. He eased himself back into the frothy bubbles, legs spread wide, fully committed to his performance.
"Where is your friend going?" Stede asked cautiously, watching the scene unfold like a wildlife documentary gone terribly wrong.
"Gonna get all nice and warmed up for you," Jack said, wriggling deeper into the tub.
"Warming up is good. Don’t want to pull anything," Stede offered weakly, still trying to be supportive despite wanting to crawl out of his own skin.
Jack began to moan dramatically, curling his toes as the water sloshed around him. His face twisted in euphoria while beneath the surface, the showerhead embarked on a journey Stede wanted no part of.
Stede’s eyes grew wider by the second. "This is graphic," he muttered, more to himself than to Jack.
Jack didn’t acknowledge him, either too involved in his own moment or willfully ignoring his guest’s horror.
Stede turned and stumbled back into the bedroom, blinking rapidly. "What am I doing," he mumbled, disoriented and vaguely damp.
He rounded the corner and promptly screamed. "What are you doing here?!"
Lucius, Jim, Oluwande, Roach, and Frenchie were standing there in Jack's bedroom.
"We’re concerned about you and Ed," Roach said. Then leaned to peek at the bathroom. "But now... I could give a fuck."
"How did you know where he lived?!" Stede scream whispered. He was definitely sobering because this whole situation is fucked up. He did not sign up for this, well...yeah, he did but he was not prepared for how far this spiraled. He just wanted to have sex so he could be good for Ed.
Lucius shrugged. "I hooked up with him like eight months ago. Never gave him back the key. That man is a freak. I just wanted you to practice flirting. But this is much. You don't know the level of freaky he is capable of. "
From the bathroom: "OH, STEVE. IT'S HAPPENING."
"Oh, you think?" Stede snapped bitchily, turning around.
"“We’ve been talking,” Frenchie said, glancing at the others, his voice quieter now.
Oluwande gave a slow, reassuring nod. “You love Ed. That much is clear.”
Jim crossed their arms, eyes sharp. “This isn’t for you. That,” they said, tilting their head toward the bathroom where Jack’s moans were still echoing faintly, “no es tu persona.”
Stede let out a long, tired sigh, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know who I am anymore. But that man in there terrifies me.” He rubbed a hand over his face, the weight of the night finally catching up with him. “I just want to go home.”
Everyone nodded, silently agreeing. They started toward the door, the tension leaving with them.
Roach paused, turning back. “You should totally run,” he said seriously, then knocked on the bathroom door with a polite little rap. “Hey, I’m Roach.”
Lucius, halfway out the door, muttered loud enough for the rest to hear, “He wasn’t even that good. Too much teeth. The mustache is weird.”
Chapter 21: You know you want it… ERUPTION.
Summary:
So, Stede tries to apologize to Ed, but it goes sideways immediately. There’s a lot of weird tension, some accidental accusations, a mentos, and then things just fully unravel.
One thing leads to another, and suddenly there’s traffic, yelling, and a very poorly timed billboard.
But hey—sometimes it takes a little chaos to get the truth out.
Notes:
The next chapter is where Ed & Stede get steamy...I know you have been waiting for it.
Chapter Text
Stede heads home. He is feeling sober, more sober than he ever has in his life. What was he thinking trying to hook up with Jack? He needed to burn the whole night out of his memory. He did not want to know about Lucius' past exploits with the man either.
He walks through his front door to find Ed standing in the entryway, his back to the door, hands on his hips. Stede feels a pit in his stomach.
He sets his keys down on the entry table. "Hey there... Hi Ed."
Ed turns around, frustration clear on his face as he places a book on the hanging shelf above the table he had been staring at.
Stede breathes out audibly. "I am so sorry about earlier tonight."
Ed frowns, then picks up a handful of porn DVDs. "What is this?"
"Those are Lucius'... I think he has a problem," he sighs, glancing down at the stack like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Ed. The covers were glossy and outrageous, a chaos of neon titles and half-naked people frozen mid-moan.
Ed nods but clearly doesn't believe him. "They are Lucius'?" He says it more as a statement than an actual question.
He moves to put them back in the box sitting on the table. Then Ed picks up one tape. "Lucius' Boner Jamz ‘03?" The disdain in his voice makes it obvious he isn’t buying it.
"Yeah, it's so sad. He compiled all the best boner scenes, I guess," Stede says, imploring and a little sad for Lucius.
Ed turns back to the box, then Stede raises his voice slightly in defense. "This isn't what it looks like... okay?"
Ed turns around holding a medical model of a penis, balls, and prostate—the kind you see on display in a doctor’s office, all rubbery parts and neutral colors that somehow made it more awkward than if it were anatomically graphic. "Oh yeah? What does this look like?"
Stede closes his eyes and sighs, "A pennniiisss," the word dragged out in exasperation.
"What do you do with this penis, Stede?" Ed asks, judgmental.
"To learn! It's for medicinal purposes," Stede insists. His face burns with embarrassment, but his voice clings to indignation. "It’s the kind they use in medical school or the doctor’s office. You know, for demonstration... not recreation."
Ed tosses it with a groan, then reaches for something else. "What's this?" He holds up a large white candy. "Is this your date drug? Your roofie?"
Stede responds flatly, annoyed. "It's a Mentos. They're the freshmaker."
"Yeah, right mate." He tosses the Mentos on the desk, then turns back heated. "What are you, some kind of sex pervert? Are you a deviant or something?"
Stede crosses his arms. "I thought you'd be the last person to yuck someone's yum...as Lucius would say. No Ed, I'm not a sex pervert or deviant."
"I'm not, but what is all this?" Ed’s voice rose with a mixture of disbelief and frustration as he gestured broadly at the collection of objects that made no sense to him.
"I haven't even tried to have sex with you, so..." Stede's voice was laced with both exasperation and weary disbelief.
"I'm aware," Ed snapped. "What are you trying to do? What are you buttering me up for, mate?" Ed asked, his voice sharp, eyes narrowing as if expecting Stede to pull out yet another surprise.
Stede’s shoulders dropped. He was over it. "Ugh, come on."
Ed threw his arms up in a faux defensive posture as Stede moved toward him. "You're not going to try to kill me, are you?"
"Look, Ed..."
Ed’s gaze suddenly dropped to the floor. "You didn’t get new carpet," he observed flatly, his suspicion deepening.
"I’m not trying to kill you," Stede said, voice softer now as he stepped closer. "I love you."
Ed took a half step back, his hands now guarding his chest, face folding into something pained and bewildered as Stede continued, barely a whisper now. "I love you, Ed."
Ed froze for a second before blurting, "Oh god," then bolted for the door and out of the apartment.
Stede watched him go, stunned into stillness for only a beat before calling after him, scrambling for his bike. He fumbled with the straps of his helmet, urgency in his movements. He couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this. He had to make this right.
Ed is panicked. His heart is thudding in his chest, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. He’s trying to shove the words out of his mind... "I love you, Ed" but they cling, stubborn and loud.
Being in Stede’s apartment, seeing all that weird medical and sexual stuff, had unsettled him. He didn’t know what to believe. The mess, the confession, the lies, or maybe not lies but omissions, all churned in his stomach like bad curry.
He jumps in his car, barely registering the slam of the door, and peels away from the curb. Gravel sprays behind his tires. Stede is close behind, pedaling his bike like a man possessed, wobbling a little from the speed but determined.
"Please Ed, let's talk!" Stede calls out from behind, voice cracking with desperation.
"Fuck off!" Ed shouts through the open window, his foot hitting the accelerator harder than he means to.
Stede veers off suddenly, spotting a side street. He knows this area. If Ed is heading back toward his house, this shortcut should intercept the main road. He shifts gears, breath puffing hard from effort as he flies down the alleyway, dodging trash bins and skimming past a delivery van.
Ed keeps checking his rearview mirror. Stede’s gone. A flicker of relief slides through him as he exhales, shoulders finally beginning to uncoil.
But then, at the next intersection, traffic lights blink red and the cars in front of him brake hard. Ed hits his brakes just in time, heart now hammering from adrenaline.
From the intersecting street, Stede barrels into view. His front tire bounces over the curb, and before he can correct himself, he collides with the rear quarter of Ed’s car. The impact sends him hurtling forward—straight into a large truck hauling a moving billboard.
The sign reads, in obnoxious neon letters, “You know you want it… ERUPTION.”
Stede sails through one vinyl panel, then out the other side, tearing a perfect cartoon-style hole through both sides of the ad before skidding along the pavement with a thud on his back.
Ed slams his car into park and jumps out, yelling, "Call 911!"
He races to Stede. "Oh my god, mate. Are you okay?"
Stede groans. "There are two sides to that billboard. They both hurt equally."
Ed drops to his knees beside him, grabbing his shoulders and brushing back hair from Stede’s forehead with shaky fingers. "Stede, oh god, are you okay?"
Tears start to well up in Stede's eyes. His chest rises and falls in uneven bursts. "I'm okay." He tries to lift his head, then lays it back down, face contorting. "No. No, I'm not okay."
His voice cracks as he finally lets the words spill out, "I'm a virgin."
Ed freezes, crouched next to him in the street, blinking in stunned confusion. "A what?"
"I'm a virgin. I've always been, Ed." Stede doesn't look at him, eyes locked on the blur of streetlights above.
Ed's mouth opens, then closes again. He sits back slightly on his heels. "Stede... is that what this was about? That you’re a virgin?"
Stede nods, barely. "I'm sorry." His voice is paper thin, embarrassment and fear creasing the edges.
"Hey, you don't need to be sorry." Ed's tone softens instantly. He shifts closer again, voice low and warm. "That's okay. It's a good thing. There's nothing wrong with that. I wish you had just told me."
"I feel so stupid." Stede’s eyes fill again, and his face twists like he’s trying not to cry.
"S'not stupid." Ed gently reaches forward, helping him unbuckle the chin strap of his helmet, his fingers brushing against Stede's jaw. "I thought you were trying to kill me."
"No, of course not." Stede lets out a laugh through the tears. Ed helps him sit up slowly, arms strong but gentle beneath him.
"Not trying to kill you." Then, as he struggles to stand with Ed's help, he says, "That's why I wasn’t trying to have sex with you. I was scared. I don't know what I'm doing. I didn't think it would be good. You deserve to be taken care of. Taken apart in a way I..."
Ed blushes, smiling as he wraps his arms around Stede's shoulders. The grit of the street clings to the backs of Stede’s hands as he clutches Ed’s shirt. "Of course it'll be good. We love each other."
"Really?" Stede's voice cracked, his eyes scanning Ed's face for any sign of hesitation.
"I love you," Ed says, voice raw with certainty. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Stede's mouth, soft and full of the emotion they’d both been carrying far too long.
A sharp honk shattered the moment. A driver in a dented pickup leaned out his window, barking, "Get out of the road, virgin!"
Ed turned so fast it was like a snap, his whole body coiled with rage. "Dickfuck, don't make me come over there and rip you out of your fucking truck! Fuck off!" His voice thundered across the street, drawing a few startled glances.
They scrambled to the sidewalk, the soles of their shoes scuffing pavement as the flow of traffic picked back up. Ed threw a middle finger over his shoulder, unapologetic, before turning back to Stede.
Without missing a beat, he cupped Stede’s face and kissed him again, longer this time, like anchoring them both to something real.
Stede exhaled shakily, their foreheads touching. "For so long, I thought something was wrong with me. Turns out, Ed... I realize now it’s because I was just waiting for you."
Ed’s cheeks flushed, "You make Ed happy," his grin breaking through like sunlight after a storm. He laughed softly, then kissed Stede again, arms curling around him as if he couldn’t bear to let go.
Chapter 22: Marble Floors
Summary:
This is where we earn our rating -- Stede and Ed are getting married and the honeymoon is going to change Stede's world.
Notes:
If I had the time to animate the final Age of Aquarius scene like from the movie with the crew I would. It would be amazing.
Thank you for coming on this sex-fueled journey, or need for sex? Note, writing steamy scenes is not something I have done much of. It's something I am working on. First fic with a sexy scene. I feel like Stede in this thinking about dirty talk as he masturbates. I want that sexy sex, y'all.
I hope you enjoyed. Comments and Kudos mean so much. Check out my other not so steamy fics. xoxo
Chapter Text
Nearly six months later, the sky is a perfect blue and the breeze off the sea carries a light, salty tang. Brightly colored banners flutter high above the beach cliffside venue, casting playful shadows across the rows of linen-covered chairs. Beneath a lush pergola twined with ivy and heavy with fragrant blooms...roses, jasmine, and small starbursts of edelweiss. Ed stands radiant.
His wedding dress clings in all the right places, a structured sweetheart neckline giving way to soft drapes of silk and tulle. Edelweiss blossoms are carefully tucked into his glossy black hair, the silver streaks shining in the sun like starlight. His half-updo is elegant but soft, like the glimmer in his eyes as he gazes at Stede.
Stede stands barefoot in the warm sand, glowing with joy. His crisp white linen shirt and trousers are a perfect match to Ed’s elegance, unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of freckled skin, strawberry blonde chest hair, and collarbone. He clasps Ed’s hands reverently, like holding something sacred. Their guests encircle them, friends and chosen family dressed in coordinating white linens, some with floral crowns, others barefoot as well. The air smells of salt, lemon blossom, and celebration.
Jackie, seated comfortably beside the Swede near the front, sips champagne with her arm snug around his. She leans in, the clink of her jewelry subtle under the soft music.
"This is some wedding... how’d they pay for all this?" she murmurs.
The Swede answers with his sing-song lilt, still smiling as he watches the ceremony. "He sold part of his vintage designer collection. Made over half a million dollars."
Jackie blinks, stunned. "Seriously? That’s crazy."
"Yes, it is," the Swede agrees gently.
Jackie squints thoughtfully toward the couple, drumming her false hand on her thigh. "We gonna get some old designer shit," she mutters, eyes narrowing like she’s planning a heist.
Frenchie is their officiant, wearing simple white linen set picked out for him by Stede, with a vine of flowers around his shoulders, finishes the vows with warmth. "We are so happy for you. I am delighted to say these words. Stede, you may kiss the Groom."
Stede’s grin widens until it practically shines. He sweeps Ed into a dramatic dip and kisses him deeply, both of them clinging tight. Their loved ones erupt in applause and cheers, someone even tossing a handful of petals into the air.
"And for God’s sake, consummate this thing," the Frenchie quips.
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
Still holding hands, still giddy, Stede and Ed sneak down a winding garden path toward the cliffside resort, weaving between potted palms and bougainvillea. They laugh like schoolboys as they race up the polished marble stairs, brushing fingers, sneaking kisses. At the suite door, Stede fumbles with the key card while Ed presses kisses to his neck.
When the door finally clicks open, Stede doesn’t hesitate. He scoops Ed into his arms, bridal style, and kisses him breathless. Just as he strides toward the bedroom, poised for the next chapter of their story, they come to a halt.
Inside, a hotel worker in a maroon vest is calmly buffing the marble floors with a loud, industrial polisher. He doesn’t look up until they’re fully inside.
"Oh, hello. Ugh... I am not done buffing the marble floors for another hour and a half," he says with a shrug. "But you can come sit down if you want. Or wait in the lobby, that’s okay. Up to you."
The newlyweds stare in disbelief.
The worker stares back serenely, then resumes buffing with a little hum.
Stede’s jaw drops. "Please just get the fuck out of here!"
Startled, the worker shuts off the machine, hurriedly gathers his equipment, and makes a swift exit.
Finally alone, Stede gently sets Ed down on the edge of the bed, his eyes dark and tender with anticipation. He leans in and kisses him, slow and reverent, as he kneels to untie Ed’s sandals.
"Oh, my darling. I have waited so long for you. You’re so beautiful," reverence with each word, he can feel his growing erection tight in his pants. He is aching to finally be with Ed. He has spent many a nights with dreams that left him rather aching and wet in the morning
Ed smiles, fingers brushing Stede’s jaw. "You're beautiful. I can't believe you're my husband."
Stede beams as he climbs onto the bed, gently skimming his hands up the bodice of Ed’s dress. He plants kisses along Ed's collarbone and jawline, murmuring sweet nothings.
"I think we are both suddenly very overdressed," Ed giggles.
They undress each other, Ed's wedding gown placed gently over a chair, Stede’s linen set draped beside it. The room is filled with soft laughter and stolen kisses.
Stede trails kisses over Ed’s tattoos, his hands reverent. He whispers praises, savoring the moment. Ed lets out a soft moan, breath catching as Stede touches him. He slowly kisses down Ed’s stomach, his hands soft running over his body as his kisses trail to his thighs. Stede presses a kiss into the Ed’s inner thigh, Ed is moaning with each touch.
His cock is hard and leaking. Stede smiles as he takes Ed into his hand. He runs it over the length squeezing tightly. Stede grins up at him before taking the head of his cock head into his mouth suckling it slowly. The taste of precum on his tongue.
Ed is moaning, his body fighting to not thurst into the heat of Stede’s mouth, “Stede.” He says breathlessly.
Stede releases his cock, a wicked smile on his lips. His eyes glint, "Do you like that, my love?"
"Get up here, need you," Ed says, each word an almost whisper.
Stede moves to lay beside Ed, only to be flipped with surprising strength to his back.
"It's my turn to take care of you," Ed grins wickedly. "I want to make you feel good, then I want you to take this plug out and fuck me, babe."
Stede shivers at the command.
Ed grabs the lube from the bedside table and works his hand over Stede, who moans helplessly. It’s not long before Stede comes with a gasp.
Ed smirks, licking his hand clean. "You’re officially not a virgin now."
Stede exhales. "I want to try again. I think I can manage. How do you want me to take you, my darling?"
Ed lies back eagerly, “Like this,” guiding Stede to prop a pillow underneath is hips, "I want you to see me."
Stede grins teasing with the plug, he pushes it in and pulls it slightly out. He leans forward kisses Ed’s belly as he starts to fuck him with the plug, his hazel eyes sparkling as he watches Ed. His body responding, his back arching, “Fuuuuuccckkk.”
He slowly pulls the plug from Ed’s now very eager hole, placing it on the beside table. He grabs the lube squeezing into his hand, he begins to slowly pump his hardened cock slicking it for his lover. Then takes two fingers, slipping them into Ed’s waiting heat. Ed bucks as he fucks himself on Stede’s fingers, “Shit babe, please. Need you.”
Stede smiles, his eyes are blown and dark, “So eager. I will give you what you want shortly. I want to see you fall apart on my fingers. So beautiful like this, so greedy.”
Ed hisses, “You can’t say shit like that, Stede.”
He pumps his fingers into Ed’s hole, curling them just right, making Ed arch and whimper. He finds the spot that Ed has told him about. Ed nearly yells with pleasure when he finds it. He slowly removes his fingers wiping them on the corner of the sheet. Ed mewls sadly at being so empty. Stede presses his lips to his husbands, “Good boy.”
Ed’s mind goes to mush at Stede’s praise.
"Please, Stede. Need you now." Ed whines.
Stede lines the head of his cock then slowly pushes in. He waits to let Ed adjust to his size, “Fuck, Stede.”
He shivers with how tight Ed is. He takes a deep breath.
"I am adequate," he mutters quietly with a nervous smile.
He sinks in slowly, both of them gasping as he bottoms out.
"You were made for me," Stede murmurs as he kisses Ed tenderly, “Now I am officially not a virgin.”
"Move, love,” Ed lets out a dreamy breath as he giggles, “Need to feel that fucking python of yours. Need you now.”
He does. Rhythmic, deep, chasing every sound Ed makes, determined to make him unravel.
Two hours later, tangled in sheets, limbs warm and heavy, Stede is sure he’s never been happier.
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