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The thing about Blackbeard's is it's so boring. Predictable. The same shit, day in, day out. Or rather, night in, night out. Everything about it has been the same for years. The black, grimy, grungy, boring aesthetic hasn't changed. The customers don't change. And yeah, okay, when he'd first opened, Ed had enjoyed it. Fuck, he wouldn't have opened it if he didn't! He - well, okay, and Izzy - had a vision, and they'd made it happen, and now it's been twenty-two years and Ed…
Ed wants something new.
A breath of fresh air.
And that's what The Revenge is.
When the sign had first gone up over the road, Ed had assumed it was going to be the same old shit. Just another bar with some aesthetic the owners thought would be cool and unique, but was actually just the same as every other bar on this street.
But it isn't.
No, The Revenge is special.
For one, it's not open all night. Two, it doesn't even sell alcohol until five o’clock. Before that, it's exclusively a cafe – and bookshop! – and it's all cosy and shit, with like, pastel colours and gentle music.
But number three.
Number three.
Number three is the fact that Stede Bonnet runs it.
And Ed might be a little bit in love with him.
Has been since he'd first burst into Blackbeard's, pink-cheeked and flustered, and asked, of all things –
“Can you spare some toilet paper? I knew I'd forgotten something for opening night and I've placed an order but it won't be here for at least three days.”
Ed was a fucking goner instantly.
So what if his own business fell to the sidelines so that he could help Stede Bonnet out?
Ed feels alive again, when he's in the company of Stede.
And seven months on, The Revenge is thriving, and Stede's the best friend he's ever had, and Ed has a crush the size of fucking Jupiter, and honestly?
Honestly, it's the best he's ever felt.
xxx
“What are you going over there for?” Izzy snaps. “We're heaving. Stay here and do your fucking job.”
“I said I would help Stede change the barrels!” Ed says, already halfway into his jacket. The thud of the music from downstairs is making Ed’s head pound. He needs out, but also, he did tell Stede he’d help, like he does most nights.
“He still doesn't know how to do it? Doesn’t have enough money to pay somebody to do it instead?”
“No! Well, yeah! But no. Anyway, I offered,” Ed says, scowling at Izzy. “I’ll only be half an hour.”
Izzy matches his scowl. “Just stay here, will you, Jesus Christ, you have your own business to worry about –”
“It’s thirty minutes out of the whole night.”
“It’s never thirty minutes.”
“It will be tonight.”
“Edward.”
“Izzy.”
There’s something else in Izzy’s expression. Something a little pained, constipated, like there’s something more he wants to say but can’t. “You don’t want to go over there,” Izzy finally says.
“Uh, yeah, I do, that’s why we’re having this argument,” Ed says, narrowing his eyes. Fuck, he could’ve just walked out the door and skipped over all this.
“It’s not safe,” Izzy blurts, “is what I mean.”
“Not safe?” Ed echoes. He stares at Izzy, who’s fidgeting now, still scowling, clearly trying to keep himself together, but his jaw is clenched. “What have you done?” he asks.
“Nothing,” Izzy says, too quickly for Ed’s liking, averting his gaze.
Ed stalks forward and grabs Izzy by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “What have you done?”
“You’re too distracted,” Izzy says, words slightly mumbled thanks to his cheeks being smushed together. “Once Bonnet’s out of the way, you can refocus on what matters –”
Horrified, Ed lets him go and walks backwards towards the office door. “What the fuck, Iz, what the – what, have you set an assassin or something on him? What the fuck?” Fuck, Ed didn’t even know Izzy still had those sorts of contacts.
“Just – Ed, wait!”
But Ed’s gone, out of the door and rushing down the steps, pain in his knee be damned. Blackbeard’s is packed, but who knows what’s going on over the road. Jesus, Stede could already be dead, murdered by some monster Izzy hired –
“Hey, boss, what’s the rush?” Ivan, their ever-reliable security at the front door, calls after him as he brushes by.
“Oh my gosh, is that the Blackbeard –”
There’s a huge queue outside of the bar, as always, but Ed ignores them, too.
Although the closed sign is up on The Revenge, with no lights on, the door’s unlocked, because, duh, Stede’s waiting for him. Ed bursts through the door. “Stede!” he calls, looking around wildly. Nothing seems amiss. Everything’s been cleared away ready for the morning, the bookshelves have returned to their daytime state, and there aren’t any dead Stedes on the floor.
“In the cellar!” he hears distantly, Stede sounding as chirpy as ever, not like he’s being held at gunpoint or knifepoint or anything. Huh.
Ed’s still on edge as he heads to the back of The Revenge and down the stairs.
“I thought you might not be coming, so I tried getting started on my own,” Stede admits, and sure enough, he’s doing exactly that. He seems to be succeeding for once. He beams over his shoulder at Ed.
“Just got held up, but listen, mate, I think it’s best if we leave this until the morning,” Ed says, reaching the bottom and starting to make his way over to Stede.
As Stede straightens up and dusts off his hands, he shoots Ed a confused look. “I’m pretty much finished,” he says, giving him another smile, blindingly beautiful.
Ed’s heart skips a beat in his chest. “Yeah, but –” he starts.
He doesn’t have a chance to finish.
There’s an almighty boom which shakes the entire cellar. It’s deafening, and debris starts raining down, and Ed has just enough time to see Stede’s terrified expression before everything goes black.
xxx
When he comes to, there's a new type of pounding in his head. Ed groans, scrunching up his face, and a sharp pain cuts across the back of his head, too.
“Please, please Ed, oh God, please –” someone's begging, but they break off with a series of agonised whimpers.
Cracking open his eyes, Ed tries to focus. His vision is a little blurry, but a few good blinks clear it. Dust hangs in the air, making it even more difficult to see what's going on. Overhead, one of the lights hangs from the ceiling, flickering, but still wired.
Ed wiggles his fingers first. That's fine. Doesn't hurt much. Then he starts moving his arms, and that's okay, too. He's achy, but that's probably normal, for what's just happened. But… what has just happened?
There's still a whimpering from somewhere nearby, like a wounded animal.
Legs working too, Ed starts the process of picking himself up off the debris-covered floor. Chunks of concrete and metal and who knows what else surround him, but he's lucky. Seems to have avoided the worst of it.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Ed sits up and squints into the dusty world he's woken to.
“Ed,” whimpers somebody again.
No, not somebody.
Stede.
“Stede? You okay? Here, let's – follow my voice.”
There's a muffled sob. “I can't,” Stede cries.
“Oh. Okay, that's okay, I'll – I'll come to you,” Ed says, stomach churning. What's wrong? Is he stuck? Paralysed? “Just – take a few deep breaths, I'll be with you in a sec, yeah?”
Ed starts an awkward sort of bum-shuffle across the ground, because he's hesitant to stand in case he misjudges and whacks his head on something. He follows the sound of Stede's whimpers, occasional cry, and groans. Then he finally claps eyes on him, lying on the ground, coated in dust. Blood is trickling down his face from a small cut on his temple, which isn't too bad. He's fine, he's just –
Crushed beneath a metal beam.
The air rushes out of Ed in one big whoosh. The blood drains from his face.
“Oh, God, it's bad, isn't it?” Stede hiccups. He whimpers again, tries to wiggle, and Ed dives forward, holding him in place.
“No, no, it's okay, it's not even that bad,” he blurts, trying to gauge the situation. Now the dust is settling more, it's a little easier to see what's going on.
And yeah, okay, not that bad is a tad overambitious. It's pretty bad. The beam is lying directly over Stede's thighs, pressing hard into them. Just looking at it makes Ed want to cringe, but he has to keep his expression carefully neutral because if he freaks out, then Stede's going to freak out even more, and that's not going to help anything.
“Okay,” Ed says, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. “Okay. So. There's a beam on top of you.”
Stede sniffles. “Got that, Ed,” he says.
“Right. Yeah. Course you did. It's on you. So. I'm going to… try and lift it,” Ed decides, giving Stede's shoulder a reassuring little pat. “You just stay put.”
That gets a wet laugh out of Stede. “There I was, trying to teleport,” he jokes weakly.
Ed’s lips twitch, but he can’t bring himself to laugh. He moves to the lower end of the beam, studying it. There’s nothing on top of it. In theory, it should just lift. The main issue is the sheer weight. Deep down, Ed knows he’s not strong enough to lift it. Hell, probably three of him wouldn’t be strong enough to lift it.
But for Stede’s sake, he gives it a valiant effort, grunting and grimacing as he uses every bit of strength to try and make it move. Even just a little bit would be something, maybe enough for Stede to slide himself free of it.
It doesn’t budge.
Stede lets out a sob and throws his head back, anguished. “I’m going to die here,” he says, voice warbling, and no, absolutely not, Ed’s not having that. He hurries back to Stede’s side, supporting his weight in the hopes of making it a little bit more comfortable for him.
“You’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re not. The fire service will be here soon, all right? They’ll get you out. It’ll be fine. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that, Ed, I’m being squished to death –”
“Nope. No. We’re not going to use the ‘D’ word. I’ve decided it’s not going to happen, so we aren’t even contemplating it.”
Stede stares at him, eyes wide, and then he lets out a hysterical laugh. “You nut,” he says. “You can’t just – defy – gah –” He cuts himself off, face screwing up in pain. “Fuck, this hurts. How does this even hurt? Why aren’t they going numb faster?”
The only thing Ed can think to do is start petting Stede’s hair. “Probably better they hurt. Long-term, I mean. Like, if they were numb, that could mean they were about to fall off,” he says, just so he’s saying something.
Another watery laugh escapes Stede, so that’s a win. “Thank you, Doctor Teach, that makes me feel a lot better,” he says.
“Damn right it should,” Ed says, grinning down at him. “Just hang in there, all right? It won’t be long.”
xxx
An hour later, Ed’s alternating between gently hushing Stede, telling him jokes, and reminiscing about everything they’ve done over the last few months.
The little whimpers and cries of pain that Stede keeps letting out are breaking his heart. But he’s taking comfort in the fact he’s awake, and making noise, and that means he’s alive. That has to be enough for now.
Stede shivers involuntarily. “I’m a rubbish dad,” he says suddenly.
Ed’s stomach drops. He frowns down at Stede’s dust-covered, tear-streaked face. “Dickfuck, no you’re not,” he says.
“I fled to the other side of the world to open a gay bar rather than admitting my marriage and home life were stifling, Ed.”
“Well, yeah, but –” And he sees Stede about to open his mouth to protest, so he hurries on, “But just because you’re not getting any ‘Best Dad’ mugs doesn’t mean you’re a rubbish dad. Subpar, maybe? But hey, even the fact you recognise that makes you better than fucktons of dads. It’s a low bar, but you’re, like, maybe just under it. My dad, he was in the fucking pits.”
Stede sniffles and laughs and groans, squeezing his eyes shut again. “Mine too,” he whispers. “I always wanted to do better than him.”
“Reckon you’ve done that then. Win.”
“Bit of an inappropriate metaphor though, given the circumstances, don’t you think?”
Ed regards the beam lying on top of him and gives a hum. “Nah,” he says. “Even more perfect, I think.”
As Stede laughs, Ed hears another noise, somewhere above them. Voices. Rubble grinding. “Hey, shh a minute, shh,” he says, placing a soothing hand on top of Stede’s hair again. “Think that’s our ticket out of here.”
“Oh, thank God,” Stede sighs.
“I’m just gonna…” Ed mimes vaguely. Then, he raises his voice, shouts, “HEY! We’re down here! HEY!”
The noises stop. Ed’s heart thuds in his chest, the only sound he can hear aside from Stede’s pained breaths.
“HERE!” he shouts again.
Then the activity starts back up again, and he thinks he hears a reply of, “We’ll get you out of there!”
Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Whatever. Somebody’s definitely there. Ed squeezes Stede’s shoulder. “There we go, see, they’re coming,” he tells him. “Not long now, mate.”
Stede’s breath hitches and he manages a nod. “Where were we?” he asks.
“Right, yeah, back to… what was it? Oh, yeah. You being a subpar dad.” Ed nods to himself. “You know what else? ‘Cause you recognise it, you can change it. Hey, why don’t we go to Aotearoa together after this? You can clear the air with Mary, apologise to the kids. Work something out. It’ll be nice for me to visit, too, haven’t been for a while. And I’ve gotta see these Mini Bonnets.”
“You think they’ll want to see me?”
“Fuck, of course they will. You’ve survived an explosion. That’s gonna make you awesome in their eyes.”
“Haven’t survived yet,” Stede says. He sniffles.
“Fuck off with that. You’re going to be fine,” Ed says, because he refuses to consider any other possibility.
Stede’s eyes shine in the flickering light. “You’d really come with me all the way to Aotearoa?”
“Stede, I’d go with you to the fucking stars.”
It’s the closest Ed’s ever allowed himself to come to admitting just how strongly he feels about Stede. There’s no way he’d ever be worthy of him. Who’d look twice at a washed-up, ex-criminal, nightclub-running, leather-clad guy like him?
Not literal-sunshine, legs-for-days, honest-bee-to-a-tee Stede Bonnet, that’s for sure.
“Tell me what we’ll do in Aotearoa,” Stede says, staring up at him, with so much wonder and adoration it makes Ed’s heart ache.
So he does.
xxx
By the time flashlights appear in the stairwell, another forty minutes have passed, and Ed’s doing his best with conversation topics, but it’s hard, and he’s spitting out fun facts and riddles and tongue-twisters when a firefighter finally, finally, reaches their side.
“Hey,” he says, crouching next to them and surveying the scene. “My name’s Steak Knife. Rest of my crew are working on clearing out the exit so we have an easier time getting you out of here. You’re Ed and Bonnet, I’m guessing?”
“Stede,” Stede says, tears spilling free again. “Stede Bonnet.”
Has to be Izzy’s doing, that. Of fucking course he wouldn’t have the decency to tell them Stede’s first name.
Ed nods, jaw clenched. Fucking Izzy. “Ed,” he confirms.
“All right, Ed, we’re gonna get you a helmet and then we’ll get you out of here and checked out. Stede, it’s gonna take us a little bit to figure out a plan, but we’ll get some paramedics down here to check you over and get to work on moving this beam. Sound good?”
Stede squeaks in alarm and his grip on Ed’s hand tightens. Then guilt flashes over his face and he smiles sheepishly up at him. “Yes, good,” he says, but his voice shakes.
And Ed had made his mind up long before that, anyway. “Nah,” he tells Steak Knife – which, uh, is that some sort of firefighter nickname…? “I leave when Stede leaves.”
“We can't guarantee your safety if you choose to stay,” Steak Knife warns him.
“Eh, I'll wear a helmet. It'll be fine.”
There’s some more protesting from the firefighter, and his colleagues who join them, but Ed remains firm. So long as Stede’s stuck in here, this is where he’s going to be.
They do make him wear a helmet though, and simultaneously claim they aren’t worried about the rest of the building collapsing, just little bits of debris falling. He cracks a grin at Stede when they’re both helmeted up. “Seems a bit late for this,” he says, gesturing up at his helmet.
Stede smiles weakly back at him. “Let’s not add a bump to the head to our list of problems,” he says.
Ed decides not to tell him about the gash in the back of his head, the blood matted there. He can worry about that later.
The little space is filling up with more people. The firefighters move further away to assess the beam, and two paramedics, both in helmets, approach Ed and Stede.
“Hey, Stede, I’m Maggie. We’re gonna take some vitals and hook you up with the good stuff, all right? Ease some of that pain for you,” Maggie explains, setting down a bag and getting to work.
“Oh, yes please,” Stede breathes, looking beyond relieved.
Ed’s not squeamish – fuck off, he’s not, look at all his tattoos – but he can’t watch as Maggie inserts an IV into Stede’s arm and sticks some round stickers to his chest. It all looks very medical, which, yeah, might be necessary, but is also a bit of a kick of reality. So Ed holds Stede’s hand and breathes and waits until finally she finishes and then Ed can bring himself to look at Stede again.
And Stede’s staring back at him, bemused. “You don’t like needles?” he asks. “Ed, you’re covered in tattoos.”
Feeling his cheeks warm, Ed shrugs and ducks his head. “S’different,” he mumbles. “It’s you.”
Stede’s expression softens. Already, he seems more relaxed, and that’s good. If he’s not in as much pain. “I’m okay,” he says. “It’s just to help me.”
“I know,” Ed says, squeezing his hand.
“Stede, your oxygen is a little low, so we’re going to give you a mask to help with that, all right?”
Stede accepts it with grace, but within just a few breaths, he’s pulling it down again to talk. “If I do die, will you go to Aotearoa for me? Tell the kids I loved them?” he asks.
“Fucking – Stede,” Ed says, voice strangled. “Don’t say that, for fuck’s sake. You’re going to be fine.”
Behind Stede, fiddling with a monitor, Maggie makes a face.
Panic flares in Ed and he decides not to look at Maggie any more.
“Just – promise,” Stede begs.
And how can Ed say no, when Stede’s staring imploringly up at him and holding an oxygen mask in his free hand?
“Yeah, Jesus, of course, I will, but — you’re going to be okay,” Ed says. He reaches up and pushes Stede’s hair back. “We’re going to go together and we’ll take them to Bilbo’s house and go horse-riding on the beach and everything we talked about before.”
“Lucky kids, to have a step-dad like you,” Maggie comments. She gets up and moves away to speak with her colleague, leaving Ed open-mouthed, with no opportunity to correct her.
Mouth suddenly dry, Ed looks down at Stede again, who just smiles before taking another deep breath through the oxygen mask. Then, mumbled so quietly he almost misses it, he hears, “I wish you were.”
Ed blinks. “Huh?” he says articulately.
“Husband.”
All Ed can do is blink again. The ‘good stuff’ must be working quick.
Still smiling, even if it looks slightly like a grimace too, like there’s still some pain there, Stede lowers the mask again. “I’ve had a massive crush on you since I first walked into Blackbeard’s,” he admits.
Ed’s heart soars. “Seriously?” he asks.
“It’s been driving my crew insane, to be honest,” Stede laughs. He winces and tips his head back, swallows hard before continuing, “But how could someone like you even look twice at someone like me?”
“Are you – oh my God, Stede, I fancy the fuck out of you,” Ed blurts, unable to think of any other way to describe how he feels right now. “I’ve got a huge fucking crush on you. Bigger – bigger than that fucking beam, I reckon. I’m crushing on you so hard.”
Laughter bubbles up out of Stede again. “Really?” he asks. “You’re not just saying that because I’m dying?”
“No, will you quit it with that –” Ed scolds, giving his hand a shake, as hard as he’ll dare. “You’re fucking amazing, Stede Bonnet. You saved my life.” He’s not even exaggerating. He doesn’t think he would’ve made it to this point without him. “Fuck it. When we get out of here, I’m taking you on a date. Then we’ll go to Aotearoa.”
Stede’s eyes shine. It’s brighter in the cellar now – they’ve set up flood lights, so the firefighters can see what they’re doing. “Okay,” he says, and for the first time, Ed can hear the breathlessness in his voice. “Sounds good.”
Gently, Ed reaches out and returns the oxygen mask to his face. He looks over at Maggie, who’s still talking to a firefighter, and calls, “Hey, how soon can we get him out of here?”
Maggie’s face does another uncomfortable grimace that she tries to hide a moment too late. “The crew are just going to set up a special inflatable that’ll lift the weight of the beam,” she explains.
“All right,” Ed says. He hesitates a moment, then presses a kiss to Stede’s forehead. “I’m just going to go talk to them for a minute. Hang in there.” After a nod from Stede, he gets to his feet with a grunt, knee cracking loudly, and makes his way over. Voice low, he asks, “What aren’t you saying?”
Shifting on the spot, Maggie glances over at Stede, then sighs and gestures for Ed to take another step away, further out of earshot. “Due to how long the beam has been lying on Stede, he’s at risk of developing a condition called ‘crush syndrome’. Have you heard of it?”
Ed shakes his head.
“Okay, well… Think of it like… The beam means everything below that pressure point is stuck. Um, the blood isn’t circulating? And when blood isn’t circulating, it can go… toxic. So when we lift the beam…”
“The bad blood will go back into the rest of his body,” Ed concludes, frowning. “Which would mean…?”
“We’re going to give Stede lots of fluids to compensate so his body can start cleaning the toxic blood, but…”
“Just spit it out.”
Maggie takes a deep breath. “There’s a very real risk of acute renal failure, followed by a cardiac arrest,” she says.
Chest suddenly tight, Ed looks back at Stede, who’s still sucking down oxygen and dealing with the whole thing like a champ.
“The firefighters are going to lift the beam as slowly as they can and we’ll keep pushing fluids, and we’re going to put AED pads on him to make sure we can act quickly, if the worst should happen. But, Ed.” Maggie places a hand on his arm. “You should prepare yourself. Say anything you need to say.”
Jerking his arm away, Ed walks back to Stede on shaky legs. Slowly, he crouches down next to him, trying to keep his expression composed.
The smile that had immediately settled on Stede’s face at the sight of him begins to slip. “What’s wrong?” he asks, lowering the oxygen mask again.
Mission failed. Ed’s throat feels blocked as he struggles to get his words out. And then Maggie kneels by Stede’s other side and places two large rectangular pads, one on the upper right of Stede’s chest, the other further down and on the left.
“Ed?” Stede asks, sounding terrified.
Gulping, Ed reaches and grasps his hand again. “They’re going to lift the beam soon,” he says. “But you have to – you have to promise me you’re going to fight, okay?”
“Fight? What –”
“Your heart might stop. Because of the blood in your legs being bad. It might fuck up your body. So. You have to fight. I’m going to be right here and we’re going to go on a date and then we’re going to Aotearoa so you’re not allowed to die. Got that?” Ed says, voice growing in strength with each word.
Eyes wide, Stede stares at him.
Then, he warbles the last thing Ed imagined in response to that.
“Marry me.”
Choking on air and a shocked laugh, Ed stares down at him in disbelief. “Mate, we aren’t even officially dating,” he says.
“Don’t care. Marry me. You’re – you’re everything. Everything I could wish for. When we’re out of here, marry me.”
Letting out another wet laugh, Ed leans in and presses his forehead to Stede’s. “Yeah, okay, you absolute lunatic. I’ll marry you.”
“Stede, we’re going to start lifting the beam now,” says Steak Knife.
“And it’s going to hurt,” Maggie warns him. “A lot. Everywhere.”
Stede nods stiffly. Ed squeezes his hand.
They start up the machine and a large, flat square that’s been pushed beneath the beam starts inflating.
Then the screaming starts.
It’s horrific. Ed wants to beg them to stop, but this is necessary. Stede can’t just stay under the beam. All he can do is let him squeeze the fuck out of his hand and listen to his screams and murmur assurances that go unheard, “It’s okay, I’m here, you’re doing so well.”
The machine stops and Stede pants for breath, while Maggie keeps a close eye on the monitor he’s hooked up to. It looks like the beam’s been lifted maybe a quarter of the way off, not enough to free Stede yet, who’s squirming and trembling, sweat running down his face.
“That pain, it’s the blood re-entering your system, Stede,” Maggie says. “You’re doing great. We’re going to push more fluids and then carry on.”
Nodding, Stede looks at Ed again, his jaw clenched. Through gritted teeth, he says, “Can we get married on a Monday?”
Ed lets out another startled laugh. “Sure, babe, whenever you want,” he says, blinking back his tears. “Any particular reason?”
“It’s – my favourite – day,” Stede says, screwing up his face.
And fuck, Ed wants to know more about that. Not many people say their favourite day is Monday, but of course, Stede’s nothing like anybody else he knows.
“Okay, we’re going again, vitals look good –”
The whirring of the machine kicks in again.
So does the screaming.
It seems to drag on, the stopping and starting. Ed keeps up his stream of consolation, but he can feel tears spilling free.
“All right, all right, there we go, that’s enough!” Maggie announces finally. “Let’s get the spinal board!”
Sure enough, when Ed risks a glance downwards, there’s enough space for Stede to be freed. He looks back at Stede’s face and he’s smiling tremulously, still shaking, face whiter than white beneath the dust. “I did it,” he breathes.
There’s activity all around them. Maggie’s watching the monitor while the others prepare what must be the spinal board, and he sees something change in her expression, feels his own smile freeze in place. “Damn right,” he says, squeezing Stede’s hand. “We’re going to get you out of here and everything’s going to be just fine. You owe me a ring.”
“Fiancés,” Stede breathes, and then his eyes roll back and his hand goes limp in Ed’s.
“No, no – Stede. Stede,” Ed says, separating their hands so he can shake him. “Stede! Wake up –”
He’s distantly aware of the fact the monitor has started bleeping noisily. Then someone else has hands on him, and they’re pulling him away, and the paramedics are moving into place, and they’re saying things like cardiac arrest and clear and Stede’s body is jolting –
And the paramedics are exchanging grim looks and injecting him with something –
And his body jolts again –
And the whole time, Ed’s begging and begging and Stede’s just lying there –
“Once more?” Maggie says.
At some point, Ed’s fallen to his knees. Somebody’s rubbing his back. He thinks it might be Steak Knife. He’s trembling and he wants to throw up and Stede’s body jolts again, and there’s nothing, there’s nothing, and Ed makes a noise he didn’t even know he was capable of. He crawls closer, lifts Stede’s head into his lap.
“Again,” he begs. “Do it again, please –”
But Maggie shakes her head.
“Please,” Ed says, cradling Stede’s head, and he isn’t sure who he’s asking. “Please, please, Stede, you have to fight. I love you. I love you. I should’ve told you ages ago. Seven months with you isn’t enough. Please come back, please come back, I need you –” He presses a desperate kiss to his lips, and whispers, mere inches from them, “Please.”
There’s nothing. He lets out a sob, which turns into more of a wail, and he wants to curl up in a ball and die right there with Stede.
Then –
A gasp.
A, “What the fuck?” from Maggie.
And Ed sees a slither of Stede’s beautiful eyes and a faint smile and thinks, maybe, miracles do happen.
xxx
Lazarus phenomenon, they call it.
Ed doesn’t care. All that matters is he gets Stede back.
And recovery is slow and painful, but there is a recovery. He gets Stede back. He gets Stede back.
They go on dates and Stede buys him a ring, and they visit Aotearoa, and the kids give their stamp of approval, and they open a new bar together, The Revenge’s Revenge.
Thirteen months after that night, they get married.
It’s a Monday.
“I like to think my crush syndrome saved you from your crush syndrome,” Ed says in his vows.
And Stede laughs, and some of the guests let out startled noises, because everyone’s all too aware of what happened that night, but…
All Ed cares about is Stede, beaming at him, alive, and happy, and safe.