Chapter Text
The set glowed with that peculiar late night television feel: bright white lights, glossy black floors, and a studio audience fizzing with New Year’s Eve energy. Though hours remained until midnight, the taping would wrap long before, to be broadcast later as the world counted down.
Ed paced in the wings, nerves fluttering beneath his skin. But this time, anticipation came with something sweeter. Somewhere out there, Stede sat in the crowd, and Ed could almost hear his voice:
Just be yourself. That’s always been more than enough.
Cole Stevens, sharp-witted and gentle-eyed, welcomed the audience with his signature flair.
“Tonight’s final guest hardly needs an introduction. He’s the former frontman of Queen Anne’s Revenge. A rock legend. Two years ago, he disappeared, and since then there’ve been no concerts, no interviews, just rare sightings and a swirl of rumours. Well, tonight we can finally put a few of those to rest. You’ve just heard him perform from his brand new solo album, currently sitting at the top of the charts. Please welcome Edward Teach!”
The applause was thunderous. Ed took a deep breath, stepped onto the stage, and immediately sought out Stede, easy to spot a few rows back from the front and beaming encouragement. The sight of him settled something within Ed.
He hugged Cole, gave a wave to the crowd, and sank into the guest chair.
“Happy New Year, Ed!” Cole announced, all charm.
Ed adjusted his suit jacket, meeting Cole’s eye. “Happy New Year, Cole. This is much more civilised than most of my past New Year’s gigs.”
Cole grinned. “You say that now, but we have confetti cannons on standby.”
Ed huffed a laugh. “I’ll try not to flinch. I’ve seen enough pyrotechnics for several lifetimes.”
Cole leaned in. “So, retirement. Tell me, you're what, forty-eight?”
“Forty-nine,” Ed corrected. “Which in rock years is at least ninety.”
The audience laughed.
“So that was it,” Cole said. “No more touring. No more screaming crowds. Just you, a cardigan, and early dinners.”
“I like an early dinner,” Ed admitted, a smile pulling at his lips.
Cole tapped his desk. “You vanished. Avoided every camera, every interview. Somehow you managed to stay completely anonymous in the age of twenty-four-hour news cycles. No social media. No surprise selfies.”
“I’m enjoying being difficult to reach,” Ed said, settling more deeply into his seat as the audience laughed. “It’s very peaceful.”
Cole leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Where did you go? And did you ever get bored?”
Ed shrugged, smiling. “Not bored, no. I live in a small town, which turns out suits me. I won’t name it, but people there are wonderfully protective. They treat me like anyone else and let me be myself, even if I turn up in the shop in pyjama bottoms, mumbling lyrics and buying milk.”
The audience laughed, and Ed glanced at Stede, catching the raised eyebrow that said, plain as day, Ed had absolutely done that more than once. It made Ed grin. A wide, mischievous grin, a private joke passed across the rows.
When Ed turned back, he caught Cole scanning the crowd. Then Cole leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial hush. “Right, the internet wants to know: can we ask about your personal life now?”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, along with a little scattered applause and a whistle.
Ed’s smile softened. He felt the usual instinct to shield, to keep the best parts of his life just out of reach. The truth was, he’d always been fiercely protective of his life with Stede, because Stede deserved peace and not to be dragged beneath the same relentless spotlight Ed had grown used to. No one had been allowed phones the night Ed kissed Stede after his last concert, which meant that, miraculously, most people still had no idea who Ed had been talking about on stage.
He raised his hands in mock surrender, playing to the audience. “This is off the record, yeah?”
“Always,” Cole replied, crossing and uncrossing his fingers with a little flourish, eyes sparkling.
Ed took his time, letting his gaze drift over the crowd until it landed on Stede. “Let’s just say I’m incredibly happy. Settled. Maybe even married.”
The crowd erupted, cheers and applause echoing off the studio walls. Ed found Stede’s eyes again and caught the fond, private smile, along with the glint of gold on his finger catching the lights, perfectly matched by the band on Ed’s own hand.
Ed’s smile grew softer, gentler. For a heartbeat, it was just the two of them. The rest of the world seemed to fade away.
Cole followed Ed’s gaze, caught on immediately, and let out a delighted laugh. “Congratulations are absolutely in order, then!”
Ed’s grin was brilliant and unguarded. “I feel like the luckiest man alive, so yes, I’ll accept that.”
*
As the applause faded, Cole turned to Ed, all playfulness. “You’ve been away. Now you’re back with a solo album. Different sound, fresh look. What changed?”
From his seat among the crowd, Stede watched Ed with a pride that threatened to lift him right off his chair. Ed looked utterly at ease under the studio lights, shoulders loose, that easy smile never far from his lips.
Stede had seen every version of Ed. Worn raw, armoured, fiercely private, soft in the warm light of their bedroom, but this Ed, relaxed and shining, was something altogether new. He almost glowed.
Stede thought of their quiet home, tucked behind hedges and half-wild roses. He thought of late afternoons with records spinning and soup simmering on the stove, Ed padding in socked feet to ask if he wanted tea, the band dropping by for long dinners. Even Izzy, who now only pretended to object to Stede’s presence before helping himself to biscuits and taking up all the best armchairs.
“Everything changed,” Ed said honestly. “I needed to remember what it was like to make music for myself again. All those years with the band, I loved them, but this time it’s quieter. More honest. I wrote most of it at home, with just dust bunnies for an audience.”
A ripple of laughter ran through the studio. Stede let it roll over him. He wanted to bottle the moment, tuck it away for later, Ed looking so alive, so completely himself, without a hint of the shadows that once clung to him.
Cole leaned in, grinning. “Have you taken up gardening, or is there some other wild hobby in the mix?”
Ed laughed. “You know, my husband tried to teach me to bake. I am, regrettably, hopeless. But I am, however, undefeated at cards.”
From his seat, Stede rolled his eyes. He knew exactly how Ed maintained that winning streak. Stede caught Ed’s gaze and arched an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile, as if to say, you’ll not fool me, love. Ed’s answering grin was nothing short of wicked.
Cole steered them towards the close. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Any resolutions for us? I suppose we won’t need to ask who you’ll be kissing.”
Stede found himself smiling, already thinking of the little celebration he’d arranged for them back at the shop. He pictured Ed’s face when he saw it, the way he’d crinkle his nose in delighted disbelief.
Ed didn’t hesitate. “Just to stay present and true to yourself. Spend more time with the one person who can calm both your inner and outer storms.”
Another round of applause swept through the studio, but Stede barely heard it. His whole focus was on Ed, his Ed, who had fought so hard to come back to himself and now seemed to light up the room without even trying.
Cole smiled warmly. “Well, I think we all wish you the best, Ed. Congratulations, and thank you for the music.”
Ed nodded, the gratitude plain on his face. “Thank you. It’s good to be here.”
They shared a final joke about the perils of New Year’s confetti, and then the show was over. The cameras swept away, the audience stood, applause swirling around the set as people began to file out.
Stede’s heart thudded as he left his seat and made his way towards the stage. He caught Ed’s eye and, with an encouraging nod from Ed, climbed the steps to join him. The studio was still busy with the crew but this was a safe space, with privacy fiercely protected by the production team.
When Stede reached him, Ed didn’t hesitate. Right there beneath the stage lights, he pulled Stede into a kiss. Stede’s heart leapt, a small fizz of giddy delight in his chest.
When Ed finally let go, he turned to Cole, who hovered nearby, grinning like he’d just witnessed the best bit of the whole show.
“Would you like to meet my husband, Stede?” Ed asked, the words tumbling out with all the irrepressible joy Stede had ever hoped for.
Cole stepped forward, shaking Stede’s hand with genuine warmth. “Absolutely. I’ve got to say, it was a challenge keeping Ed’s attention up here. I’m not sure I managed half the time.”
Stede smiled, his eyes dancing. “Well, he does have a tendency to get distracted.”
Cole laughed. “Clearly, for all the right reasons.”
Ed ducked his head, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “All right, all right,” he muttered, though his grin was wide and unrepentant.
Cole chuckled, glancing between them. “Well, you both look like you’ve found something special. It’s a pleasure to see.”
Stede looked at Ed, heart full. “Thank you. We think so too.”
Cole released Stede’s hand with an approving nod. “Congratulations. I hope you both have a wonderful New Year.”
Stede smiled, slipping his arm around Ed’s waist. “Thank you. And to you.”
When they slipped out the side door together, Ed reached for Stede’s hand, lacing their fingers tight, and held on as if he never planned to let go.
*
It was late by the time they reached the shop. The street outside was quiet, air crisp enough to nip at their cheeks, stars scattered bright over the rooftops. Ed shivered, still in his suit, hand clasped in Stede’s as they hurried to the door.
Stede unlocked it with a flourish and tugged Ed inside, the door clicking shut behind them.
Ed paused on the threshold, eyes widening as he took in the scene: soft candlelight flickered along the shelves, golden glow spilling across the floor, every surface brushed with warmth.
Someone, Stede obviously, had gone to a great deal of trouble. The coffee table had been nudged aside, a blanket nest spread across the rug, cushions borrowed from upstairs, a bottle of champagne chilling nearby.
Ed looked around, still and awestruck. “But how-?”
Stede grinned, almost bashful. “I called in a favour from Izzy.”
For once, Ed was left speechless.
Stede rubbed his hands together, suddenly looking shy. “I just thought...after everything tonight, I wanted something simple. Just us, here. Where it all began.”
Ed closed the space between them, wrapping Stede up and pressing their foreheads together. For a moment, he just breathed Stede in. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he whispered, voice rough with feeling.
They kicked off their shoes and settled onto the rug, drawing the blankets around their shoulders. Stede fiddled with the record player until it crackled to life, something old and soft he had discovered in one of the record bins one morning.
They poured champagne, clinking mismatched mugs together, laughter bubbling between them as the candlelight danced. Conversation meandered to memories of days and evenings in this very shop, memories that belonged to both of them.
As midnight crept closer, they counted down together, voices hushed. When the clock finally struck, Ed leaned in and kissed Stede, slow and lingering. He felt Stede’s smile curve against his mouth, hands threading gently into his hair.
Ed drew back, just enough to look at him, voice low and sincere. “I love you, Stede. More than anything. More than records. Maybe even more than winning at cards, though don’t quote me on that.”
Stede gave a theatrical gasp, grinning, then brushed his nose against Ed’s, eyes shining. “Well, lucky for you, I love you too. Even if you do stack the deck.”
“Only occasionally,” Ed murmured, trying to look innocent and failing utterly.
Outside, fireworks blossomed, painting the windows with bursts of colour and light. Inside, laughter and music curled through the shop. Their shop, their home, the place they were always meant to find each other.