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Ed hated Stede Bonnet the moment they met.
No, that wasn’t quite true. When Stede had first set foot in Ed’s boutique cheese shop Come to Cheeses, Ed’s immediate thought had been how fucking unreasonably beautiful he was. The light from the setting sun shone through the window, outlining him in a soft glow that lit up his golden curls like a halo.
Then Stede had opened his mouth.
“Hi there, neighbour! I’m new in town, the name’s Stede Bonnet. I Just opened up another cheese shop down the block, we’re called ‘Sweet Dreams.’” He paused. “Well, actually, it’s ‘Sweet Dreams Are Made of Cheese’, but that would barely fit on the sign, and everyone just keeps calling it ‘Sweet Dreams’ anyway.” He looked pensive for a moment, then brightened. “Anyway, what a coincidence, us being so close!”
A coincidence. He was clearly trying to move in on Ed’s prime cheese-selling territory, and he’d had the gall to pretend it was a coincidence.
Then it got worse.
“It looks like you don’t carry any dessert cheese, though! That’s our specialty over at Sweet Dreams—that’s why we’re called that, just my little joke, you understand—I don’t suppose you’re familiar with our work?”
He looked so hopeful, but all Ed could hear was “dessert cheese” echoing his head like a death knell, tolling the end of any hope that he and this (admittedly still gorgeous) cheese pervert could ever be anything but enemies. Dessert cheese had already ruined Ed’s life once, thank you very much. He wasn’t about to let some sugary abomination through his front door again.
Stede chattered on, oblivious to the maelstrom of emotions whirling through Ed’s mind; the still-painful memories of his last fight with Jack over an plum-studded cheddar—Monterey’s Plums, Jack had wanted to call it—before the other man had stormed out of the store, leaving several display cases and Ed’s heart shattered in his wake.
Regardless, Ed’s silence hadn’t dissuaded Stede’s almost nuclear levels of peppy excitement, and he had departed with a promise to bring Ed some samples of something-or-other that Ed had apparently expressed an interest in.
True to his word, he’d come to visit Ed the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, dropping in with a sample of some new product he’d gotten in, something Ed “just needed” to try (only the savoury options though, Ed still had his pride). Chattering about the noble art of cheesemongering, as if he hadn’t just decided to get into the business the previous year. The man had no sense of the artistry or history of it, he’d just thought it would be something fun to try. It drove Ed fucking crazy.
…Didn’t make him any less beautiful, though.
Over time, he had started to wear Ed down. The constant cheer and golden retriever-like enthusiasm were getting to him, even if he still expected a trap around every corner. Besides, Stede really did seem to know his cheesecraft, even if he was wasting all that time and energy on chocolate and fruit. Ed had still refused to try the stuff, of course. But Stede got so excited when he talked about it, his face practically glowing, and Ed had been starting to consider inviting him over for a little dairy-free dessert, when…
When Izzy fucking Hands happened to both of them.
Ed had heard of Izzy Hands before, of course. They said he had his fingers in every corner of the cheese market in the country, possibly the whole continent. Ed had even seen him in the pages of Say Cheese magazine. The guy was honestly pretty hot, in a “spread me over a cracker, Daddy, I’ve been bad,” kind of way. Sure, he'd already put over a dozen specialty shops Ed knew out of business, but no one had ever accused Ed of having good taste in men.
Hell, he even would’ve considered shooting his shot at the annual fuckfest that was the International Cheese Symposium—where it was said they gave out more condoms than the Olympic Village—but Hands had always been illusive. No one had so much as seen him at the free samples table, never mind any of the hotel orgies (which were, by unspoken agreement, kept entirely free of dairy; no one wanted to mix business with pleasure).
But then, when Ed had all but put the man out of his mind, Izzy Hands had just swept into town, casual as you like, and made wildly lucrative offers to buy both his and Stede’s businesses. Then, when they had both refused to sell, he’d bought the buildings out from under them, and delivered an ultimatum: sell him their shops to be rebranded into Hands Cheese (whoever was on the marketing team behind that decision should be fucking fired) franchises, or be evicted into the wildly soaring real estate market.
Obviously, Ed had decided to take matters into his own hands. So to speak.
He’d needed to dig through his entire goddamn closet for what he wants (his slut days are long behind him, unfortunately), but he’s feeling good about the end result. He arrives outside the office that Izzy has rented in his tightest leather pants—the ones with the laces up the side to show that yes, the tattoo does go all the way down—and an open leather jacket over an extremely short purple crop top. He’s got his hair tied back in a loose bun that’s just begging to be grabbed, with strands falling delicately to frame his face. A tiny bit of eyeliner emphasizes his already wide eyes, and a bit of gloss highlights what he has on good authority are “primo cocksucking lips.”
All in all, he’s dressed to kill (or at least seduce). His plan is flawless, he’s sure. Nothing can possibly get in his way. Nothing—
“Edward, fancy seeing you here!”
He turns around, and there’s Stede fucking Bonnet, standing in the doorway, holding a small cooler in one hand. His sky blue shirt unbuttoned most of the way to his navel, and he’s wearing the most scandalously short pair of khaki shorts Ed has ever seen. And his legs. My god, his legs. They should’ve sent a poet, Ed thinks deliriously, before he snaps out of it. He has a job to do here, and Stede is on the verge of fucking it all up.
“What the fuck are you doing here, dressed like…” he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. What if Stede is just dressed like that today on a whim? What if he woke up that morning and thought, hey, you know what would be fun? If I put on an outfit designed in a lab to make Edward Teach lose his entire goddamn mind? Ed wouldn’t put it past him.
“Dressed like what?” Stede looks at him all wide-eyed innocence, but Ed sees a sparkle in his eye.
“Dressed like you know exactly what, Stede Bonnet.” Ed prowls across the lobby until they’re face to face, inches apart, and it’s all Ed can do to keep from kissing his stupid fucking mouth.
Stede stares back at him impassively for a moment, then the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smirk.
“Alright, yes. I know what you mean. And I suspect—” he gives Ed a slow up and down, and Ed barely suppresses a shiver under the weight of his gaze “—that you’re here for approximately the same reason.”
Ed considers denying it for all of two seconds, but then realizes he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on here. “Okay, fine. So we’re both here to try to… seduce Izzy Hands into leaving our shops alone, is that it?”
Stede nods. “More or less.”
“And you were planning on telling him to just take mine instead, right?”
“Edward, I would never—” Stede seems genuinely surprised, and Ed feels a tinge of discomfort. What if he hadn’t been planning that? What if Ed’s the asshole? He cuts Stede off.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Obviously that won’t work now that we’re both here, so we’ll just have to… work together, I guess.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Ed thinks for a minute, mind racing. Could he? Yes, he could. Should he? Absolutely not. But maybe…
“...Wanna do something weird?”
“Hey there, Izzy.” Ed slinks into the office with all the slinkiness his body can muster (he’s not as young as he used to be, after all).
“Teach? What do you—” Izzy trails off as his eyes take in Ed’s outfit. Perfect. All according to plan.
“I was hoping we could have a word,” Ed purrs. He shrugs smoothly out of his leather jacket, sauntering over to the desk and dropping it on the polished wood. “Man to man.”
“And what word would that be?” Izzy’s lips twitch in a smirk before he can stop them, gaze roving hungrily up and down Ed’s body.
“A few words, really. ‘Retaining ownership,’ comes to mind, and maybe we can find some others if we… put our heads together. ” Ed makes his way around the desk, letting one hand trail gently up Izzy’s arm and across his shoulders. He rests his other hand on Izzy’s bicep, and bends down, lips close to his ear.
“I can make it worth your while.”
He feels Izzy shiver. It’s working. Of course it’s working, Ed is a brilliant tactician.
“Oh, sorry! Am I interrupting something?”
Stede stands in the doorway, pose uncertain, almost demure. Christ, if Ed didn’t know better, he’d think the man was actually as blushing and inexperienced as he looked. Ed hadn’t known better, in fact, until approximately fifteen minutes ago.
“Actually, you are, mate. So if you’ll kindly fuck off and come back later—”
“No, no. Come in, Bonnet.” Izzy beckons him in with a casual gesture, and Stede makes his way towards them. Ed watches him, transfixed by the ripple of firm muscle in his thighs as he walks. Christ, he looks like he could snap a man’s neck with those. Ed wouldn’t mind letting him try.
Stede stops just across the desk from where Izzy sits, and Ed forces himself to focus. He tightens his grip on Izzy slightly, coiling around his shoulders like a snake, and waits for his moment.
“Well?” Izzy asks, his voice as sharp as a well-aged asiago.
Stede’s eyes dart to Ed’s, and Ed nods minutely. With a tiny blink of agreement, Stede plants his hands on the desk and leans forward, scandalously low shirt falling even further open. Ed hears Izzy’s breathing catch, and as he drinks in the sight of Stede’s surprisingly broad and smoothly sloping chest, Ed can’t say he blames him.
“I’m here to make you a proposition, Mr. Hands,” Stede says, after a dramatic pause. Ed barely fails to hold back a snort. “A business proposition,” Stede clarifies, shooting Ed a dirty look.
“And what would that be?” Izzy leans forward slightly as well, pulling away from Ed, and Ed knows now is the moment.
He strides around the desk, getting up in Stede’s space. “Oh, I just bet you have a fucking ‘business proposition,’ don’t you?”
“My good man, I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean!” Stede huffs back.
“Sure you don’t. I’m sure you didn’t come here to try to throw me and my store under the bus or anything, did you?”
“And so what if I did, Edward? You’re my business competitor! My nemesis! My arch-rival!” Stede’s laying it on a little thick, sure, but the man was clearly a born actor. Then, right on cue, he plants his hands on Ed’s chest and shoves. It’s not too hard, but it is enough to make Ed stumble back a few steps. Alright, his turn…
The slap connects a little harder than he meant it to, and the sound rings through the room. Stede lets out a sharp gasp, and looks at him in shock. And oh, that’s interesting. His pupils are blown wide, and he’s staring at Ed with an unexpected heat.
Then, he reaches out, tangles his fingers in Ed’s messy bun, and yanks. Ed wishes he could say that the moan he lets out was all part of the performance, but he’d be lying.
Ed grabs Stede’s shirt, and pulls, ripping the remaining buttons open and revealing a glorious expanse of soft-looking stomach that he barely restrains himself from burying his face in. He tugs Stede towards him, staggering back further and bumping forcefully into the desk.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Izzy stand up, leaning forward. Now Stede’s going to grab him by the shirt (just like that and wow Stede is stronger than he looks), and throw Ed right into Izzy’s—
“Gentlemen, please.” Ed and Stede both freeze as Izzy speaks, Ed’s shirt caught halfway over his head, and his fists still gripping the tattered remains of Stede’s button-up. “There’s no need for any more of this… charade. You can’t possibly think you’re the first cheesemongers I’ve met who have tried to slut their way out of a forcible business merger, do you?”
Stede gapes at him. “ Slut our way—”
Izzy scoffs. “Come on. It’s embarrassingly obvious that I’m not the one either of you want. You were just begging for an excuse to rip each other’s clothes off; the only people you’re fooling are each other. If you’re actually here to try to make a deal, then talk. Otherwise, get the fuck out of my office.”
Stede looks like he’s about to protest again, so Ed gives him a nudge, raising his eyebrows in what he hopes is a silent “follow my lead.” Fortunately, Stede seems to get the message.
“And what would it take to make a deal, Mr. Hands?” Izzy’s eyes widen minutely, and Ed allows himself a moment of smugness. He’s got guys like this all figured out.
“I’ll be honest, Edward—can I call you ‘Edward?’” He continues before Ed can answer. “I don’t really fucking need either of your shops. Less competition is always better, obviously, but I’m particularly trying to corner the dairy-free cheese market at the moment, and since neither of you sell—” Ed tries and fails to repress a cringe of distaste. “Something the matter with dairy-free, Edward?”
Ed is seconds away from just saying “fuck it” to this whole operation, because some things are sacred, goddammit, when he’s rescued by Stede hopping up on the desk, swiveling to let his (long, toned, extremely biteable) legs hang off the side next to Izzy. Ed can’t help but notice Izzy’s eyes on them as well, so at least they’ve got that going for them.
“Why, nothing is the matter with dairy-free cheese!” Stede actually bats his damn eyelashes at Izzy. Ed mentally takes back everything he thought about Stede’s acting ability, but Izzy seems to be eating it up like a six-year-old smoked cheddar. “Honestly, I’m extremely impressed. The rumours say that you’re—” he looks Izzy up and down pointedly, “—a very big man in the dairy-free cheese market.”
Izzy’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. He takes a deep, shaky breath, then opens his eyes again. “Alright. I said we could make a deal, so here it is.”
Got him, Ed thinks to himself triumphantly. He wonders what the deal will be, how he’ll be asked to debase himself to keep his store (and only to keep his store, obviously). Suck Izzy’s dick? Suck Stede’s dick while Izzy watches? Suck both their—
“You can both keep a significant share of your stores, maybe… seventy percent. All you have to do is stock the Hands Cheese house brands instead of all the pretentious, overpriced garbage you’re currently selling, and you can keep your livelihoods. Maybe even have a little display of it for people with more money than fucking sense. The dairy-free line,” he looks pointedly at Ed, “will of course be front and centre.”
“Well, that’s…” Stede begins, then trails off, his expression radiating much the same confusion that Ed feels.
“You’re still not going to fuck us?” Ed definitely isn’t whining about it, it’s just that his ego is bruised. Definitely no other reason, certainly not related to Stede’s glorious legs or Izzy’s strong-looking hands.
“My god Edward, did you really think I would fuck two men who felt that they didn't have any other choice? I know I'm the CEO of a multi-million dollar cheese empire that routinely puts small, independent, specialty shops out of business, but I'm not evil."
“I—” When Izzy puts it that way, Ed supposes he can see what that might not be a good foundation for even the briefest and most transactional of fucks. Even just a one time thing. A sweaty, panting one time thing between three men, none of whom even particularly like each other, but nonetheless have undeniable chemistry.
“So, gentlemen. Do we have a deal, or not? I’m a busy man, I don’t have time for this charade anymore. Let’s conclude our business, and you can go off to fuck each other in privacy like you so clearly want to.”
Ed is just opening his mouth—whether to tell Izzy to shove his deal up his ass, or to suggest that possibly he and Stede don’t have to go off to fuck in privacy if Izzy would maybe prefer they stay—when Stede chimes in.
“Mr. Hands, before you make your final decision… I’d like to put forward one thing that might change your mind.”
He hops off the desk where he’s still sitting, bending down towards the floor. Ed couldn’t stop looking at the man’s ass if he tried, and even Izzy is speechless for a second.
“Bonnet, I told you, I’m not going to f—”
Stede straightens triumphantly, holding the small cooler that Ed had all-but-forgotten about. He plops it down on the desk and opens the lid, chattering as he does so.
“I understand that you’re a businessman, but I implore you to at least try some of the merchandise that you’re going to be so cruelly consigning to the whey bucket of history, first.”
Ed feels a pit open in his stomach. Of course Stede had just been out for himself. Had he been playing Ed all along? Had—
“And of course, here’s a few samples from Come to Cheeses, too, wouldn’t want you to miss those. I’m particularly fond of the truffle pecorino, but the oak ash chevre is simply to die for, very soft and spreadable.” He actually winks at Ed when he says it, but Ed’s struggle to resist asking what else Stede likes soft and spreadable is cut short when Izzy speaks.
“While I’m not above a bit of bribery from time to time, I’m going to have to decline, Bonnet.”
Stede pouts. It’s absolutely a pout, there’s no other word for it. Ed wants to bite his lower lip.
“Are the flavours not to your liking? I can go get something else if you’d prefer.”
Izzy coughs, glancing away, and mutters something almost inaudible.
“I beg your pardon—” Stede begins, but then Ed’s brain catches up with his ears.
“Did you just say that you don’t fucking eat cheese?”
Izzy nods once, curtly, still not looking at either of them.
“You run a multinational cheese franchise to rival Cracker Barrel, and you don’t eat cheese?”
“If you must fucking know,” Izzy mutters between gritted teeth, “I have a delicate stomach. Eating cheese makes me sick.”
“You’re lactose intolerant?” Stede asks, eyebrows knit together in surprise and confusion.
“Listen, Bonnet. I’ve been accused of being intolerant of many things, but I hardly think that—”
“It means that you’re allergic to lactose,” Ed cuts him off, impatient.
“Well, not allergic—” Stede begins, but Ed waves him away.
“Okay, yeah. The lactase enzymes, small intestine, blah blah blah. The point is, why don’t you just take lactaid pills?”
Izzy rolls his eyes. “Oh, sure. I’ll just take a magic pill and then somehow not puke my guts out every time the barista gets my order wrong at Starbucks. Why don’t I just go sail off the edge of the flat fucking earth while I’m at it?”
“You…” Stede pauses. “You don’t think lactaid pills are real? That they work?”
For the first time, Izzy looks unsure. “It—it just always sounded so ridiculous, like those multi-level marketing supplements bored housewives sell to each other. And I… I get very sick when I have dairy, so it never seemed worth the risk.”
Ed sees an opening—apparently the only opening anyone is going to see today—and pounces.
“Well, if you had some lactaid pills, y’know, if someone went and got you some or whatever, would you at least try the cheese?”
“I—” Izzy hesitates, then sighs. “I suppose.”
Ed’s out the door as fast as his tightly leather clad legs will carry him. The drug store is only a block away, and Ed barely pauses as he dashes down the aisle, grabs a bottle off the shelf, and skids to the cash.
It’s only when the elderly lady behind the counter gives him his total that he realizes he doesn’t have his wallet. These pants aren’t designed for utility; not a pocket in sight. Fortunately, he catches the elevator eyes that the cashier gives him, and manages to get out the door with a lavish wink and a promise of a return visit “to settle his tab.”
He’s not sure what that’ll entail, but that’s a problem for later Edward to deal with.
“—primo cocksucking lips—” Stede and Izzy’s gazes snap up to greet him as he bursts back into the room, and Stede stammers to a halt, Izzy freezing mid-nod.
“Here you go,” Ed wheezes, tossing the bottle across the desk and collapsing into a chair.
Somewhere in between Ed leaving and Stede and Izzy getting into a conversation about his lips (he assumes they’re talking about him, at least, because have you seen his lips), Stede has managed to lay out an appealing-looking little cheese plate on a rustic wooden slab he had stashed away somewhere. Ed assumes the cooler. He can’t bring himself to assume anything else right at the moment.
Izzy opens the bottle, shaking a couple pills into his palm. He pauses, the tablets halfway to his mouth.
“Promise this isn’t some fucking game to make me sh—to make me sick?” he asks, and there’s a hint of uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice that… kind of makes Ed want to wrap him in a blanket? That or let Izzy strap up and rail Ed into oblivion, he could go either way.
“I promise. We’re just trying to help.” Fortunately Stede is paying attention, at least.
With a grimace, Izzy tosses the pills into his mouth, washing them down with a glass of water. Then he turns to Stede’s cheese board with visible trepidation. His hand hovers over it for a moment, and Ed feels a small twinge of pride that he settles on Ed’s chevre first.
He pops a small piece of it into his mouth, and Ed barely has time to lament the lack of crackers or those tiny little caper things to go with it when Izzy makes a noise.
And… Ed’s never exactly been short on sexual partners, right? And he’s good in bed, he knows it. That’s not him being cocky (so to speak), he’s gotten consistent positive feedback. Tens across the board, not just the lips. Point is, he’s fucked a lot of people.
But he’s never heard someone make a sound like Izzy does. Guttural, decadent and thoroughly indecent… Ed can’t help but blush at it.
Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, Izzy sways on the spot for a moment. Ed’s all ready to heroically jump in to catch him, but then his eyes snap open, and he reaches immediately for the pecorino.
His reaction to this one is somehow even more dramatic, and what the fuck, Ed can feel himself getting half hard at the frankly pornographic sounds Izzy is making. He’s never been inclined to bring his work home with him—one thing those sex maniacs at the International Cheese Symposium have right, at least—but he’s also never been more tempted by the idea than he is right now. Frankly, it’s all he can do to keep from diving over the desk to tackle the other man to the ground.
Fortunately for the cheese plate, Ed’s cock, and the half-full glass of water, Izzy chews and swallows the cheese, opening dark eyes to meet Ed’s gaze.
“That was… jesus fucking christ,” he groans and Ed nods, enraptured.
“Try—try mine next?” Stede’s voice sounds oddly hoarse. When Ed looks over at him his cheeks are flushed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches Izzy intently.
Izzy reaches for a cube of what Stede has excitedly explained is a “rather exquisite mango and ginger stilton” and Ed holds his breath. Will this be what screws them over? Stede’s weird, freaky fruit che—
This time, Izzy lets out a full-on whine, gripping the desk with one hand as he sags against it. Ed can barely tear his eyes away from the sight, but he looks over when he hears a strangled moan from Stede and—yup, Stede is enjoying this as much as Ed is (at least if the front of his criminally short shorts is any indicator).
“You…” Izzy falters, then takes a shaky breath and tries again. “Fuck, Edward, you really need to taste this.”
Ed hesitates for a moment, but then he swallows the last of his uncertainty (to make room for the cheese), and picks up a small piece of stilton, biting into it cautiously. It tastes—
Fuck.
Fuck.
A desperate whimper escapes him, but he can barely hear it over the symphony in his mouth. Against all odds, the sweetness of the mango perfectly balances the salty tang of the cheese. It’s strange, it’s unexpected, it shouldn’t make sense… but it does, and it’s exquisite.
Kind of like Stede, now that Ed thinks of it. He meets Stede’s gaze as the other man watches him intently, a small smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. Ed desperately wants to kiss him, but that would mean not trying the chocolate goat cheese, and that just isn’t fucking happening.
The next minutes are a blur, a haze of unexpected but unparalleled pleasure. At Izzy’s breathless invitation, Stede joins them, sagging against the desk as he bites into a cube of Ed’s pecorino, and then they’re all lost to the decadent ecstasy of it all.
Finally, the plate is empty. Stede has sunk to the floor, Izzy has collapsed into his chair, and Ed is lying across the desk. He’s still in a haze, utterly full and utterly sated. His cock is still inexplicably hard, and straining uncomfortably against the leather, but he’s never felt this satisfied in his life.
He wonders if they can do this again. He hopes they can do this again. He—
He starts, as he hears the sound of a computer booting up. Looking over, he sees that somehow, impossibly, Izzy has pulled himself together and is… getting back to work?
After a few moments, he looks at Ed, then over at Stede as he makes his way up off the floor.
“Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. But I’m going to have to ask you to leave now, I’m a busy man.”
“I—” Ed blinks, his sluggish brain having trouble catching up with what’s happening.
“But what about our stores?” Stede sounds only marginally more together than Ed. “Are you—”
“My people will be in touch,” Izzy says shortly, not looking up from the screen.
“Does that—”
“Bonnet. Teach. Get the fuck out of my office.”
Bemused, Ed heads for the exit, and Stede follows behind him.
“What do you think?” Stede asks him as the door clicks shut.
Ed shrugs helplessly. “I dunno. He certainly seemed to like it, but it might not be enough.”
“He certainly did, didn’t he.” Stede gives a self-satisfied little smile, and Ed can see heat spark up in his eyes as he looks Ed up and down.
Ed remembers the sounds Stede made with his mouth full of Ed’s chevre, and it sends a bolt of electricity down his spine.
“Do you want—” he begins, at the same time Stede says:
“Shall we—”
“Absolutely.” Ed nods decisively. “As fast as possible.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Stede takes Ed’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers as he pulls out his phone to call a rideshare with the other. Ed feels excitement humming in his veins. Whatever happens, whether they’ve been successful here or not… it seems like he’s getting to have his dessert cheese and eat it too.
To both his and Stede’s enormous relief, it’s only a few days before they both receive envelopes in the mail, envelopes bearing the trademark logo of Hands Cheese. The offer made in the documents inside is generous. If anything, Izzy’s offer to carry both his and Stede’s cheeses in Hands Cheese stores following a rebranding decision will increase both his and Stede’s profits, even with Izzy’s ten percent cut.
He almost discards the envelope, but then he sees a card at the bottom.
“Teach,” it reads. “I am grateful to both you and Bonnet for the information you shared with me last week. It has been… enlightening. I hope you’ll both join me for dinner to work out the details of the contracts this Friday.”
The address is that of a very high-end restaurant downtown. Ed has never been, but he’s heard good things. Besides, they carry both his and Stede’s cheeses, so they must be good.
Dinner, when it rolls around, is delightful. Ed is wearing a deep purple suit that Stede insists brings out the warm tones in his eyes, and Stede is resplendent in an all-white number that should wash him the fuck out, but somehow, he’s making it work. Izzy is wearing… black, as usual, but he’s making it work too. Ed can feel himself going wall-eyed because he doesn’t want to stop looking at either of them.
The conversation is also surprisingly pleasant, if unfortunately business-focused. Izzy, it turns out, wants them to help him source some higher-end dairy-free cheeses as well. Ed manages to suppress his knee-jerk refusal, and agrees to give it a try. They both seem so excited about the idea, and Ed will do anything for lo—
Well, he’ll try anything once, he supposes.
They finish eating, and Ed tries not to be disappointed when Izzy calls for the cheque, in spite of the optional cheese board listed at the end of the five course menu. He’d been hoping for—fantasizing about, really—a repeat of that fateful afternoon in Izzy’s office.
“Should we… perhaps get one to go?” Stede asks when Ed tentatively mentions it, and Izzy shakes his head with a sharp grin.
“No, I was thinking perhaps we’d forgo the cheese board tonight,” he murmurs, voice even lower and hoarser than usual. “I’ve always been a firm believer in not mixing business with pleasure.”