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1
“Ed! What an…unexpected surprise. And I see you brought…a friend,” Mary announces awkwardly, glancing at a heavily disguised Stede hovering beside Ed.
“Oh yes, this is my friend…Jeff. The accountant!” Ed adds on, patting Stede’s back and clearing his throat. Mary shoots him a dubious look but Ed soldiers on. “I’ve just missed my friend Stede so much and figured I would visit his grieving widow, y’know share in each other’s pain,” he explains, looking pointedly at the assembled group of women.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Mary sighs, standing. “Ed, you can cut the act- the women all know. And Stede you look utterly ridiculous. I can't take you seriously like this.”
“I told you it was too much,” Stede huffs, already fighting to remove the fake nose and beard Jim lent him.
“I dunno you were kinda pulling off the whole long hair look,” Ed sulks while Stede moves on to removing his hat and wig.
“We can revisit that idea later when I’m not drowning under several layers of padded clothing and fake hair,” Stede replies, voice muffled as he works to unravel himself from the layers Ed had rolled him into earlier.
“Please tell me you have a better disguise planned,” Mary says with an exasperated sigh, coming up to the pair with her hands on her hips and lips twitching with amusement.
“And a better cover story,” Evelyn calls from where she’s lounging in her settee, discreetly ogling the bare skin peeking out from beneath Stede’s layers as he stretches to wiggle out of one of his waistcoats.
“Jeff the accountant is a perfectly good disguise,” Ed grumbles, taking a pointed step in front of Stede and glaring at the woman until she looks away with an exaggerated eye roll.
“Of course. And I’m sure ‘Jeff’ over there has enough accountancy knowledge to hold a conversation about it.”
“Well-” He hesitates. Come to think of it, Ed was able to dodge all accountancy-related topics last time in lieu of one of his stories.
“Maybe keep it closer to the truth by saying, I don’t know, you sail together?” She suggests, lolling her head back towards Ed.
“Kinda takes the fun out of it that way,” Ed mumbles, crossing his arms and scuffing his boot.
“The ladies and I can help you with your disguise and cover story if you really need it,” Mary suggests as she continues to watch Stede struggle with bemusement.
“I’m quite surprised you let them into my little faked death,” Stede remarks, hopping on one foot to remove a pair of breeches and nearly toppling over.
“Stede, this is an assembled group of women who all celebrate the fact that their husbands are dead. No offense,” Mary tacks on with a hand wave.
“None taken!” Stede chirps from the ground after falling with a graceless thump. “It’s a cause of celebration for myself too.”
“Please don’t break something,” Ed mutters, helping Stede up and balancing him.
“Thank you dear,” Stede replies with a bright grin.
“The point is,” Mary continues, “If any woman is going to understand elaborately faking my husband’s death to get rid of him, it would be them.”
“Yes, props to you. A rather masterful performance,” comments a woman Ed vaguely recalls fainting after the piano fell on “Stede.”
“Why thank you,” Stede preens. “I learnt from the best.” Ed ducks his head, feeling his ears heat at the praise and fond glance Stede shoots him. He’s still not quite used to compliments, though Stede never hesitates to shower him with them.
“Now why don’t you settle in, Stede finish removing that ridiculous costume, and by then our meeting should be over,” Mary decides.
Accepting their instructions, the two of them stumble away, before promptly running into Alma and Louis in the dining room who seem to be attempting to build a tower out of dishware and various trinkets from around the house. “Technically you’re dead so you can’t tell us we shouldn’t be doing this,” Alma rushes out, eyes wide at being caught.
“I can so,” Stede huffs indignantly, whose stern tone is only slightly undermined by the fact that he is currently wearing one stocking and juggling a handful of clothing. “I’m still an adult and still your father even if I’m dead.”
“No, Stede, I think she has a point,” Ed muses, winking at Alma. “After all, these two children have lost their father. They can’t be expected to follow every rule set before them, especially not from a stranger they’ve just met. This is my friend Jeff by the way,” he adds, gesturing to Stede.
“Ed you’re a horrible influence,” Stede chastises delightedly, slapping Ed’s chest and promptly dropping his fake beard and at least two articles of clothing.
“Dunno why you expected differently, love,” Ed retorts. “I am a p-pretty rough sailor,” he stumbles out, hurrying to correct himself.
“Do you have any more stories? Of fighting Blackbeard?” Louis asks eagerly, looking up from the moat he’s building out of silverware.
“Oh do I!” Ed exclaims, hunkering down to the lad’s level. “But first, I think we can get this tower taller. We just need some better reinforcements.”
He’s currently caught up deeply strategizing which is the best angle to hang the flag off their now improved castle several minutes later when Ed catches the way Stede is looking at him from the corner of his eye. “What?” he asks suspiciously.
“Nothing dear,” Stede says with that soft smile that always makes him melt. “It’s just wonderful to see how good you are with them.”
“Yeah, well,” Ed scoffs and looks away. “Just a horrible influence.”
“And sometimes a horrible influence is the best influence,” Stede replies simply, eyes twinkling. “After all, a bit of rebellion never hurt anyone.”
“I have several pieces of evidence to the contrary,” Ed retorts with a pointed brow, but Stede simply waves his hand through the air like he wasn’t nearly a victim of mutiny himself once upon a time.
“You know what I mean,” he replies indulgently.
“Yeah yeah,” Ed grumbles, fidgeting with a stray fork.
“Yes Doug you should’ve seen- oh for goodness sakes,” Mary cuts herself off with a sigh. Freezing, Ed slowly looks up at where Mary is now glaring down at him with her fists on her waist. “Really Ed?” He gulps, suddenly terrified that he’s crossed some kind of fancy person line. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to help the kids bring down the wine glasses to use as scaffolding.
“Mary Ed was simply-”
But Mary waves Stede off and pinches her nose. “I swear neither of you men know how to play with children like normal adults.”
“We can clean it up and put it all away now, didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Ed mumbles, shoulders hunched and feeling far too much like that servant boy from a lifetime ago.
“But you see mum Ed was just teaching us about angles and the proper measurements to build a steady foundation. So this is sort of like school you see,” Alma offers. Ed slowly looks up and stares, dumbfounded by her. That girl could make one brilliant pirate with that tactician's and quick thinking mind. And she doesn’t even hesitate to speak back at a disapproving parent. Takes balls.
“Oh, really?” Mary asks, arching an unimpressed brow.
“Mhm!” Louis chimes in. “See how our castle isn’t falling? Ed taught us how to do that!”
“Well if you’re learning I suppose it’s alright,” Mary allows, lips twitching.
“I..really?” Ed can’t help but confirm, glancing between Mary and the kids
Mary turns to him and softens, smiling wryly at him. “Nothing’s broken and no one’s crying. I have no complaints.”
“Oh.” Ed blinks. Huh.
Later when they finally make it to their room and undress into their nightclothes since they arrived past supper, Stede walks up from behind Ed and wraps his arms around him. “I don’t like the way you looked when Mary caught us. Like you were bracing for a slap,” he murmurs.
Ed stiffens. “Would’ve been her right, me coming in the way I did,” he admits, voice gruff.
Stede’s grip around him tightens. “No one has the right to hurt you Ed,” He declares fiercely. “I’ll cut down anyone who tries.” At that proclamation Ed turns to face Stede, shocked to see his honesty blazing in his eyes.
“Truly?” Ed asks quietly. The idea of someone defending him so fiercely, especially Stede who is usually so gentle and good natured is hard to grasp.
Stede brushes his thumb along Ed’s bearded cheek. “Didn’t me burning down a ship full of posh knobs prove that to you?” He asks with a crooked smile.
Ed’s eyes widen. “Right. That was. For me.” He didn’t fully comprehend that in the moment, more shocked at the fact that the ship they were currently in was burning down and in awe of the way Stede smirked at the destruction strewn before him.
Stede’s eyes flash and he grips Ed’s arms tightly. “No one gets to hurt you and get away with it.”
Swallowing dryly, Ed presses their heads together, knowing he’s about to repeat himself but unable to stop. “You mean that?”
Stede cards his fingers gently through Ed’s hair. “With all my heart.”
2
“Not fucking happening.”
“C’mon Ed,” Stede wheedles. “It’ll be fun!”
Ed eyes the beast currently pawing at the ground and shakes his head. “It’s not fucking happening Stede,” he repeats. “Not in your fucking life.”
“Oh is the great fearsome pirate nervous around a little innocent horse?” Stede teases with a sparkle in his eye.
“Yes! I’m a pirate! I sail on ships! Things that are actually made to transport you! I don’t ride on a live animal who is debating throwing me at a tree at its first chance!” he huffs out, waving his arms around for emphasis.
“Oh, Delphi? She’s a sweetheart,” Stede insists, patting the beast’s side. “C’mon, just one ride around the land. I think you’ll enjoy it!”
Ed throws his head back with a groan. Why. Why does love make him do this shit? “Fine,” he grits out. “But if I die you’re telling the crew.”
“Yes dear,” Stede replies indulgently, patting his shoulder.
Taking in a bracing breath Ed steps forward and stares down the horse. “Now listen here you little fucker,” he growls. “If I have one hint that you’re about to throw me I’m gonna make you into a meat pie.”
“Don’t listen to the grumpy man Delphi,” Stede croons, coming up beside him and rubbing the beast’s nose. “He’s just a little scared.”
“I’m not scared!” Ed sputters. “I’m fuckin’ Blackbeard! Blackbeard isn’t fucking scared of anything!”
“Actually,” Stede counters gently, brushing some hair from Ed’s face. “You’re Edward Teach. And Edward Teach is allowed to be scared.”
Ed swallows dryly and averts his gaze. “Right.” It’s taken time to work on shaking off the shackles of the Blackbeard mythos, and he still regresses every so often, shrugging on the armor in moments of insecurity and uncertainty. But Stede is always by his side, helping to gently remove the heavy mantle, reminding him that he doesn’t need it anymore. Not now that he’s surrounded by people who don’t demand him to be Blackbeard, just Ed. He’s never been allowed to be Ed before. And sure he still loves a good maim (who doesn’t love a good maim) but whenever they raid and pillage it’s not expected of him to take part in the killing some of the others seem to enjoy. Just expected of him to keep an eye out and protect his crew.
“So? Is Ed ready to face his fear?” Stede asks.
Ed is pulled from his thoughts and glowers at Stede. “Fine,” he grumbles before eyeing the horse again and pointing a stern finger at it. “Remember what I fucking said you fucking asshole.” He blinks as the beast simply blows hot breath in his face. Right then.
Taking a step back, he gazes up at the saddle thing, trying to estimate how the fuck he’s supposed to get up there. Maybe if he puts his arms there and his leg there and then just wiggles a lot? Oh fuck, he’s gonna look like an idiot. Ed is distracted from his strategizing by the thump of something being placed beside him. “There you are dear. Just step on that and wrap your arms around her saddle and I’ll boost you the rest of the way.”
“You’ll boost me?” Ed blinks at him.
“Of course,” Stede says with a cock of his head. “You can’t be expected to mount a horse the first time without any help.”
“Mount a horse,” Ed mutters to himself. “Right.” What proceeds is one of the most mortifying events of Ed’s entire life and he thanks the gods Mary isn’t there to laugh at him. Once he’s on, he grips the reins until his knuckles whiten, shoulders stiff. What kind of lunatic does this for leisure? Sure, Stede is still teaching him and the rest of the crew what leisure really means and can look like but this simply cannot be it.
“Right then,” Stede says, and Ed blinks at where he’s already mounted primly beside him. What the fuck? “Now loosen your grip a bit dear, you don’t want Delphi to sense your nerves. These are sensitive beasts you know,” Stede explains, patting the side of his horse, golden like rum. “Then gently tap your heels and we’ll start nice and slow.” Stede makes a sort of clicking sound and Ed jolts as the beast starts walking forward slowly. Oh fuck.
He’s sending out prayers to every god he’s ever fucking heard of, eyes squeezed shut when several minutes pass and Ed realizes he hasn’t fallen and cracked his head open yet. Peeling open one eye, he gazes down at where Delphi is walking at a relaxed pace before turning and finding his breath caught in his throat. Stede is smiling, head thrown back facing the sun and eyes closed as he rolls with his animal like they’re one beast. “Okay then,” Ed mutters, adjusting himself to sit a bit more comfortably. “Not too bad so far.”
Hearing him, Stede opens his eyes and grins. “Shall we go faster then?”
And never able to say no to a challenge even if he really should, Ed bares his teeth. “Fuck yeah.”
“Oh fuck no!” He yelps a second later as Delphi picks up speed and races after Stede and his horse. “Oh fuck no fuck no fuck no!”
“Lean into it dear, you’ll get the hang of it!” Stede calls, turning in his saddle and nearly giving Ed a heart attack.
“Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Ed mutters like a mantra, gripping his reins tight. But as his hair whips around him and he feels the wind in his face some of Ed’s terror starts to melt away. Wait- this is familiar. Imagining the scent of salt in the air and the crash of the waves, Ed closes his eyes and leans forward, the thump of hooves and rush of wind the only sound he hears. And soon…he finds himself smiling.
He doesn’t know how much time passes before Stede begins to slow and Delphi seems to know to do so as well. (Thank the gods since Ed only has a vague idea of how to stop this thing.) “So? Still hate it?” Stede calls as Ed comes up beside him.
Ed shakes his head slowly. “It…it kinda feels like sailing,” he breathes, Delphi falling in step with Stede’s horse.
Stede beams at him, cheeks flushed with exertion. “There’s a reason I wanted to do this with you. I thought you might enjoy it. And it isn’t simply because I thought you would look handsome in your riding breeches.”
”Stede,” Ed gasps with delight, clutching his chest and only slightly panicking when he rocks in his seat. “Did you bring me out here to have your wicked way with me?”
“And what if I did?” Stede sniffs, cheeks pink, and not just from their ride this time. “Don’t think I forgot the time you pushed me in the water so you could see what my white shirt would look like soaked.”
Ed smiles dreamily at the memory. “Certainly a look I think you should repeat.”
Stede huffs out a laugh as they continue their lazy pace before he shrugs, looking out towards the cloudless sky. “When I would grow too suffocated and trapped here I would take Apollo out and ride until we were both exhausted. It was the closest I got to sailing until I actually went through with my dream. So I wanted to share this with you.”
Ed swallows, staring at Stede with eyes wide. And here he thought Stede simply wanted to be entertained by Ed’s flailing. He should’ve known it ran deeper. “Thank you,” he says gruffly. “For sharing this with me.”
And oh fuck how that smile makes his heart clench. “I want to share everything with you.”
“Yeah well.” Ed clears his throat. “Same.” As if agreeing, Delphi releases a quiet huff. “Oh fuck off horse,” Ed grumbles. “Still don’t have to like you even if I won’t make you into a meat pie.”
“Oh don’t try to fool me Edward Teach! I saw you sneaking her some sugar cubes once we slowed down.”
“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Ed sniffs. “Doesn’t sound like me.”
“Of course it doesn’t.” And if doing things that utterly terrify him will get Stede to keep smiling at Ed like that? Fuck, he’ll fistfight a fucking three-headed shark.
3
“You know what I regret about the last time we were here? You wanted us to get sloshed and I didn’t even get tipsy,” Ed muses as he takes a sip of wine and feeling like a classy bastard as he does.
“It’s not my fault you have the alcohol tolerance of a pirate,” Mary snorts.
Ed chokes on his next sip. “Ha! That’s-“
Mary shoots him a look. “Ed. I know you’re a pirate.”
Ed blinks. “Oh. Um.” He glances furtively at where Stede is walking the kids to their rooms for bed before turning back to her. “And. You don’t mind?”
Mary shrugs. “You make Stede happy.” There’s silence as Ed scrambles for a response before taking a generous gulp of his wine instead. Mary watches with a quirk of her lips before leaning forward. “So tell me, and be honest: what is Stede like as a pirate? Because I simply cannot imagine it.”
Ed barks out a laugh and tips the rest of his glass down his throat before pouring himself another. “He was one of worst pirates I had ever seen in my fucking life. But somehow still alive so far better than the majority I’ve met too.“ Mary chuckles at that and accepts his offer for a refill with a nod. “But that’s what drew me to him,” he explains with a small smile into his glass as he leans back into his chair. “He was unapologetically himself, didn’t give a fuck if what he did made no bloody sense on an ocean let alone as a pirate. I had been so bored with the monotony of a pirate’s life, it was refreshing finding someone doing something new, even if he was also an utter lunatic.”
Mary smiles at him and Ed can’t help but squirm, unused to baring his affections so openly to anyone but Stede and some of the crew. When did he feel so comfortable being so vulnerable? Sharing any of those soft feelings to any of his former acquaintances would’ve gotten him laughed at or stabbed. “So that’s how you met?” Mary asks. “You were saving him from himself?”
“More or less,” Ed says gruffly, the vivid image of Stede hanging limply from that rope suddenly in the forefront of his mind. If his crew was a second too late cutting Stede down would he still be Blackbeard right now? Would he still be miserable? Would he be dead?
“Are you alright Ed?”
Ed shakes himself from his brooding and chugs the rest of his wine. “Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “Just. Remembered something. Slightly unpleasant.”
Mary looks at him with soft sympathy. “I can imagine.”
“So, this Doug. What drew you to him?” He returns, desperate to banish that memory.
“Are we gossiping, Edward Teach?” Mary asks with delight.
“So what if we are?” Ed mumbles, fiddling with his cup and still feeling far too out of his depth.
“Well if we are I think we’ll need more alcohol,” she declares. “All the best gossip comes with alcohol,” Mary adds as she refills their cups generously.
“Mary, have I ever said that you’re a brilliant woman?” Ed asks gravely.
“Perhaps, but I would love to hear it again,” she grins which he returns. They lean back in their respective chairs, savoring the next sip of their drinks before Mary speaks again. “He was the first one who saw my art and saw potential in it,” she admits, studying her glass. “I hadn’t realised how desperately I wanted someone to believe in me until that moment.” Her smile turns crooked. “At first we were simply painting instructor and trainee, but there are only so many times a man can lean against your back and hold your hand in his before one begins to get ideas.”
“Mary Allamby Bonnett, did you seduce your painting instructor?” Ed asks with delighted scandal.
He smirks at the way her cheeks flush as she takes a generous sip of her wine. “Perhaps,” Mary replies haughtily.
Ed toasts her with a laugh and drains his glass. “I drink to you madam!”
“Oh fuck off, you’re drinking for yourself,” she retorts with a laugh.
“That too,” he admits, finishing off the bottle in his glass before opening up another to fill Mary’s cup up once more. “You wanted us to get properly sloshed.”
Their conversation winds and bends from there and Ed is vaguely surprised to find himself getting slightly tipsy. Who knew Blackbeard could get drunk on wine?
He’s currently telling the story of when he and Stede swapped clothes when Mary leans forward, eyes bright. “Now that’s a fine idea,” she declares.
Ed grins, catching on immediately. “Wanna do something weird?”
“How the fuck are you s’posed to fucking walk in these?” Ed yelps, wobbling as he attempts to take a step forward in the dress and heels he squeezed into. “C’mon man you used do yardies every morning you can fuckin’ do this,” he mutters to himself.
“Oh I look good,” Mary remarks, admiring herself in the mirror. “I look really good.”
Ed turns to her and whistles. “You’re not wrong. If I were into women I might be into you.”
“Why thank you Ed,” Mary bows.
“My pleasure Mary,” Ed returns with a curtsy before stumbling. “Motherfucking dickfuck,” he growls.
“If you think that’s hard you should try dancing,” Mary laughs, striding up to him, the tight leather extenuating her curves.
“Society is fucking evil,” he mutters, glaring down at his feet.
Mary snorts. “You’re telling me.”
Never one to avoid a challenge however, Ed attempts to stand tall. “Alright then. Show me this dancing thing.” Stede’s attempted to teach him to dance something more fancy than what he knows but Ed has always refused, terrified of making a fool of himself. Apparently all he needed was some liquid courage.
Now she laughs. “Dancing is far too advanced if you can barely stand,” Mary protests.
“I’m fucking-” he stops himself. Mary might be okay with him being a pirate but not fucking Blackbeard. “I’m a fucking pirate,” he corrects himself. “If I can sail a ship I can dance in heels.”
“Your funeral,” Mary shrugs, gently grasping his hands.
“Um. Doug? You haven’t seen our significant others have you?”
“What?” Doug asks, raising his head from the painting he’s been immersed in all evening. Stede releases a strained laugh. “I'm sure it’s fine but I simply went out to check on the ship a bit ago and since returning I passed several empty bottles of wine in the parlor and, um. No Ed or Mary.”
At his admission Doug visibly pales. “We need to find them. Mary hides it well but there’s a chaotic side to her and something tells me Ed knows just how to trigger it.”
“STEDE!” Ed exclaims, brandishing a bottle of wine and blinking owlishly at where a few droplets fall on the floor before turning back to him. “STEDE! D’you know how hard it is to walk in these fucking fucketing buggers?!” he exclaims, lifting up a foot and waving his bottle at- yes those are heels, aren’t they? Stede simply blinks dumbly, taking in the scene. After searching the house they were able to follow shouts and laughter coming from Doug and Mary’s room, but nothing could’ve prepared Stede for the sight he’s facing now.
“Doug Doug Doug Doug,” Mary chants, stumbling up to him and tugging on his sleeve while Stede’s eyes can only widen at what she’s wearing. “Doug d’you think I could get a leather jacket and skirt? D’you think I would look good in that? ‘Cause I never wore leather before but I like it.”
Poor Doug can only stare at Mary wide-eyed and mouth gaping. “Whatever you want, love,” he croaks.
Meanwhile Stede’s attention is pulled back to Ed. Ed who has somehow managed to actually put on Mary’s clothes and pull them off far too well. Oh dear. “So…I take it you two have had some fun?” Stede asks weakly.
“STEDE! I know how to dance now!” And scrunching up his face in what shouldn’t be such an adorable expression on a grown man, Ed grasps Stede’s hand and shoulder while still holding onto the empty bottle. “Now it’s one two three and I take a step forward,” he mutters to himself, attempting the move before tripping and falling forward into Stede’s arms.
“I would absolutely love to dance with you dear, but perhaps we do so when you’re sober and wearing more suitable footwear,” Stede coaxes.
“‘M gonna be the greatest fuckin’ dancer in the world gonna be so good everyone’s gonna be jealous,” Ed mumbles into Stede’s chest.
Stede can only pat Ed’s back and smile fondly at the ridiculous man. “I have no doubt.” And deciding this would be a good time to make themselves scarce considering Mary seems to currently have her tongue down Doug’s throat, Stede ushers Ed out and towards their room. Well, he certainly doesn’t envy either of them tomorrow morning.
4
“Morning Father! Morning Ed!”
Ed whimpers and rolls over on a soft squishy pillow he vaguely identifies as Stede as he attempts to escape the sound of ice shards grating on his skull.
“Hello children,” Stede whispers, running fingers through Ed’s hair so gently he’s mortified to find himself releasing a tiny whimper. “Ed had a long night. Best keep your voices down.”
“Why did he have a long night?” Louis asks in what Ed guesses is supposed to be a whisper but sounds instead like a foghorn.
“Oh, he and your mother just had a fun time while you two were sleeping.”
“Is that why Mother wouldn’t let us in her room and told us to find you instead?”
“Gonna kill her,” Ed mumbles into Stede’s chest. Stede simply releases an indulgent hum and continues to stroke his hair which does quite well at curbing Ed’s murderous impulses. At least for now. Later he’ll kill Mary when he thinks he can stand to have his eyes open again.
But when he stumbles into the dining room, dragged hand in hand by the children despite Stede’s laughing protests and finds Mary with her head on the table and hair disheveled, he figures she’s suffering enough. Maybe revenge can happen later.
It’s soon decided that given the current state of Ed and Mary through no fault of their own, it made sense to have a calmer day than what they originally planned. Ed has no complaints when Stede announces this and ushers Ed to a loveseat, guiding him to rest against his shoulder.
He's dozing a moment later, warm and comfortable, when he hears Alma’s voice right by his ear. “Father, can you braid my hair?”
“Of course love,” Stede murmurs.
Ed watches with one eye peeled open as Stede helps Alma up and begins to delicately weave strands of Alma’s hair together to create some kind of crown. He can’t help being envious of her; Stede’s fingers in his hair is one of his favorite things.
“Father, you should do Ed’s hair next! He has so much of it!” Louis suggests from where he’s lying on the floor, reading a book Stede gifted him from a ship they recently pillaged. (Despite all of his progress, Ed still hasn’t been able to shake Stede of his particularly…unique style of looting.)
Stede’s hands stutter at Louis’ suggestion and Ed straightens, eyeing him carefully. Though Stede’s given Ed baths before when he’s feeling overwhelmed or distraught, for some reason this is one step they’ve never taken. “I- well-“ Stede lowers his voice and leans closer towards Ed. “I’ve wanted to ask but-“
“Yes,” Ed blurts out far too loudly before clearing his throat awkwardly. “I mean…sure, why not? I guess?” He says in an attempt at sounding casual that most likely misses the mark entirely.
Stede beams, kissing Alma’s head as she hops off his lap with a chirped “Thank you!” and hurries to her stack of new books.
Cheeks turning red, Stede looks at Ed and fiddles with one of his rings. “If you sit straight and turn I may have better access-“ before he can finish his suggestion Ed does as he says, stomach fluttering for some godforsaken reason. “Right. Perfect,” Stede utters softly. And with achingly gentle fingers, he begins to part Ed’s hair, humming quietly as he does. Ed’s eyes flutter shut and he slumps, immediately relaxing at the familiar touch of Stede’s hands. He soon finds himself floating, soothed by Stede’s warm presence and the murmurs of Doug and Mary on the other side of the room.
Ed doesn’t realise that he’s dozed off until he flails awake at a shout. Jolting upright and reaching for the knife he’s not currently carrying, Ed whips his head around only to find Louis and Alma glaring at each other, teary-eyed. “Father didn’t get you that book he got it for me! Besides you’re too young and stupid to read it!” Alma cries.
Not even noticing the way Stede and Mary are already moving towards the children, Ed finds himself sinking to the floor. “Hey, hey, let’s not call anyone stupid here, yeah? No need for that,” he coaxes, echoing the words Stede’s repeated countless times to Ed as he’s struggled to learn how to read over the past few months.
“Well he is,” Alma sniffs, clutching her book to her chest. “This is my book not his.”
“Well-” Scrambling to think of how to resolve this before recalling how Stede mediated a fight between the Swede and Wee John over a book they both wanted to read last week he says, “Maybe you can read it out loud to Louis, that way you both get to hear the story and maybe Louis can follow along and learn some new words too?”
“Please Alma?” Louis asks, voice small and eyes downcast.
“Fine,” she mumbles after a beat. “But I get to hold it.” And with an eager nod Louis inches close to Alma as she opens the book and starts to read it out loud.
Satisfied and entirely shocked that that worked, Ed nods and crawls back onto the couch with a yawn. “S’rry I fell asleep. Did I mess up your braiding?” he asks, eyes already drooping again. When there’s no response Ed opens his eyes and only now notices that Mary and Stede are standing beside each other, gaping at Ed. “What?” he asks defensively.
“How did you do that?” Mary asks, sitting on the couch so she can whisper. “I thought you told me you’ve never really spent time with children?”
“I haven’t,” Ed shrugs. “Learned from Stede.” He glances furtively at Stede who’s clutching his heart with a watery smile. “Aw, shit don’t cry,” he grimaces.
But Stede hurries to Ed’s other side and sinks onto the couch before drawing him into a hug. “I’m not. It’s just so lovely seeing you work with them.”
“Yeah, well.” Ed clears his throat awkwardly. “So did I mess up your work?” He asks, desperate to take attention off of himself.
“Oh, not at all,” Stede sniffs, reaching for a hand mirror and brandishing it. When he sees himself Ed can only stare for a long moment before reaching up to softly touch his hair. Multiple braids start at the top of his head before winding down and splitting into two braids interspersed with green bows. “Is it alright?” Stede finally asks anxiously.
Ed nods, fingering one of the green bows that matches the robe he borrowed from Stede’s wardrobe today. He looks…gentle. Soft. “Yeah,” he eventually rasps, unable to take his eyes from his reflection. “It’s perfect.”
5
“Fuck off this is all yours?” Ed gapes at the room filled to the brim with all sorts of paintings while Mary shrugs sheepishly. “I get a lot of inspiration.”
He wanders around, gazing at the range of paintings and styles, reaching up to touch before catching himself. “Fucking crazy how you can just- fuckin’- make a picture.” Ed’s never been able to create something; only destroy. Though learning how to write has begun to change that. (Stede will never be allowed to see the poetry Ed’s secretly been writing though.)
“Do you want to learn? You won’t become a painter overnight but it’s a fun way to express yourself,” Mary offers.
Tamping down on the hope and excitement fluttering in his stomach Ed shakes his head. “Nah, this isn’t my world. I’m just admiring.”
“Rubbish that,” Mary retorts, and when he turns it’s to find her setting up a thing- an easel? He thinks that’s what it’s called. “Come here Ed,” she orders, and though Ed has only known Mary for a short period of time, he knows better than to disobey her.
Swallowing, Ed steps forward and accepts the painting brush she offers, holding it as awkwardly as a quill before he learned how to write. “You want to hold it like this,” Mary guides, gently adjusting his grip. Handing him a thing with splotches of different color paint she gestures towards the blank canvas. “Now paint. Express yourself!”
“But what do I paint?” He asks, feeling like a lost fool.
Mary shrugs. “Whatever you want. Could be something or someone you’ve seen in life or just imagined or could just be a feeling.”
“A feeling,” Ed mumbles, furrowing his brow. Glancing between the black and red paints Ed hesitates before gently dipping the brush in the red, Stede’s smile shining in the front of his mind.
Silence falls between them while Mary sets an easel next to Ed and begins her own painting. Out of the corner of his eye Ed watches the way she mixes paints to create different colors before trying the same. “Used to call myself the kraken,” Ed mumbles mostly to himself once his canvas begins to fill. “I was the monster in everyone’s nightmares, you know?”
There’s silence before Mary quietly replies, “Not really. That doesn’t sound like the Ed I know.”
Ed smiles bitterly, not taking his eyes off his painting. “Hadn’t been Ed until I met Stede. Not for a long time. I was-” He pinches his eyes shut. Mary’s been so kind and welcoming when she had every right to kick his ass to the door for helping her husband run from his life. She deserves the truth, even if it'll ruin their relationship. “I was Blackbeard.”
“Oh.” Mary’s voice sounds small and Ed fucking hates it. He’s about ready to run out here and straight to the ship when she adds, “Was?”
“What?” Despite himself, he opens his eyes and turns to Mary, confused.
“You said ‘was’ Blackbeard,” she says, head cocked and eyes unreadable.
“Oh. Yeah.” Huh. He turns back to his painting, a swirl of violent blacks and dark blues on one side and a ray of vibrant yellows and reds and purples on the other. “Didn’t wanna be him anymore. Hadn’t wanted to be him for a while.”
“Well, that’s good. I like Ed.”
Ed blinks, shaking his head and staring at her. It can’t be that easy. “Even though I’m Blackbeard?”
At this Mary’s soft smile returns. “Well it’s like you said. ‘Was.’”
Choking back the emotion threatening to overwhelm him, Ed takes a halting step forward. “Can we- I don’t fuckin’ know. Hug or some shit?”
Releasing a laugh Mary draws him into a hug. “Yeah, we can hug or some shit.” Ed squeezes his eyes shut, gratitude at this endlessly accepting woman crashing over him. “You’re a fucking brilliant women beyond this world Mary Allamby Bonnet,” Ed mumbles into her coat.
“Now if you keep on complimenting me it’ll go to my head,” Mary chuckles, drawing back.
“I think you deserve a bit of a big head,” Ed replies gruffly. “Thank you,” he adds, averting his eyes. And as he does his gaze catches on what Mary was painting. Eyes widening, Ed takes a step closer, the urge to touch rearing up again. “It’s-”
“I told you I get a lot of inspiration. Often it comes from real life.” The painting's not finished, more of a rough outline, but Mary was clearly on her way to painting the scene from yesterday when Stede was braiding Ed’s hair. Across the canvas Stede is smiling softly down at Ed whose eyes are closed, looking completely at peace. It’s about as far from the image of Blackbeard as one could get. “You two make good subjects. Your love is almost palpable.”
“Palpable,” Ed mumbles, trying to remember what that means.
“Like, it’s almost visible, it's so strong,” Mary explains.
“Oh. Thank you,” he whispers. Ed feels his cheeks heat, still not taking his eyes off the image. “Can we have this? When we go?”
Mary squeezes Ed’s shoulder. “Absolutely.”
+1
This time when they disappear Stede finds them in the fields and nearly has a heart attack since Mary has a blindfold around her eyes and looks ready to throw a knife at Ed who is standing with an apple on his head. “What in heavens are you doing?!” Stede squawks, hurrying over to them.
“Don’t worry about it mate, Mary’s got this,” Ed says with a bright grin and a thumbs up.
“Mary certainly does not have this! Mary is about to throw a knife straight at your face!”
“No need to fuss Stede, Ed’s been teaching me all morning,” Mary reassures him.
“A morning is not enough time to keep yourself from stabbing the love of my life!” Stede shrieks, arms flailing. Why is he the sensible one? He hates being the sensible one!
“Aww he calls you the love of his life!” Mary croons. “That’s so sweet.”
“Isn’t it just,” Ed says with a wink at Stede. Stede simply stands there speechless, uncomprehending why neither of them are taking this seriously. Unfortunately, during that hesitation Mary decides to throw the knife which is promptly embedded in Ed’s left torso.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Stede sighs, pinching his nose. “Ed, stay right there, I’ll get us some medical supplies.” At his comment Mary peeks under the blindfold and gasps, so Stede pats her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I did the same to him, he’s used to it.”
When Stede returns with some sewing materials and bandages a moment later, Ed is lounging on the ground, casually munching on his apple while Mary leans forward and whispers, “You’ve been stabbed how many times? And you’re still alive?!
“Don’t encourage him Mary,” Stede says sternly. Settling down beside Ed he hands him the rum he dug up from their supplies. “Drink.” Once Ed’s taken a generous gulp Stede looks him in the eyes. “On the count of 3. One-” He tugs out the knife and splashes the alcohol on it before promptly getting to work while Ed releases a low hiss.
“I hate when you do that trick.”
“You’re the one who taught me that trick,” Stede retorts with a soft smile. “Now can you explain why you both thought this was a good idea?”
“Well it all started in the painting studio. Mary was showing me how to use that knife thing-”
“A palette knife,” Mary supplies faintly, pinching her eyes shut as Stede begins the stitches.
“Right and I thought the way she handled it was impressive so thought I’d teach her some more advanced techniques with actual knives.”
“And you couldn’t show her this with a tree or sign post?” Stede asks with slight exasperation, though he’s secretly delighted that they’ve continued their painting lessons. When he found them yesterday Stede had to catch himself in the doorway, so in awe of the way Ed seemed to light up the room with his smile.
“Well where’s the fun in that?” Ed asks with genuine sincerity, the maddening man.
“The fun is staying alive long enough for me to develop gray hairs to match yours. Though at this rate I reckon we don’t have long till that happens,” Stede grumbles, snipping off the end of string and wrapping some bandages gently around him.
“I think you’d look good with some gray hairs. Very distinguished,” Ed claims.
Stede gazes up at him, smile soft. “Not the point, darling.”
“Is this common for you two? Casually chatting and bickering while patching up your wounds?”
They both look at Mary and shrug in tandem. “You get used to it.”
“If you say so,” she sighs covering her eyes with a slightly trembling hand. “For me, I don’t know if I’ll be touching a knife again any time soon.”
“Oh but you have to! Every woman should know how to throw a knife and now you know you can hit a general target!” Ed protests. “Teach it to your widow group. Maybe you can start a whole new club.”
“Now there’s an idea,” Mary admits with a faint smile before her brows knit back together. “And you’re sure you’re alright?”
“Oh he’s fine,” Stede reassures her, helping steady Ed as they stand. “He’s walked off far worse. Not that that should encourage you,” Stede adds sternly when Ed opens his mouth.
As the three of them slowly walk back to the house, Stede can’t help but think how much he’s changed from the man Mary once knew. In his old life the very thought of a stab wound made him feel faint, let alone the idea of sewing one up. With apprehension he glances over at Mary who’s studying them but not with repulsion or fear, rather something close to fondness. “What?” Stede asks.
Mary reaches up and squeezes where Stede’s hand is gripping Ed’s arm. “I’m glad you found each other.”
Stede’s heart warms and he looks at Ed who is smiling at him with those soft eyes that never cease to humble him. “Me too.”