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Stede is learning that time moves differently when you’re in love.
A moment gazing into Ed’s eyes feels like forever. Whole days in bed pass in a heartbeat, while a meeting on deck takes an eternity. Seconds, minutes, hours– they no longer make sense; set intervals turn to liquid, turn to kisses, turn to giggles, turn to moans. The only existing structure is the division between time with Ed and waiting to be with Ed. Some nights are all theirs, slippery, scattered time lost to tender caress. Some evenings they retire early, blanketed in only moonbeams as they take turns reading stories. Some mornings they rise with the sun, tangled limbs gilded in dawn light. Time skitters then crawls, the form of each day dependent on his proximity to Edward.
It’s not that Stede has stopped loving the crew, the ship, or life in general as a pirate captain. Little by little he and Edward have returned to a routine. It’s just a new routine, centred around the needs of the co-captains. That’s not a lot to ask for, is it? Besides, who doesn’t enjoy a little spontaneity! It can’t all be raid and trade and restock, can it? He’s certain the crew appreciate the excitement and novelty as much as he does. Plus, they’re surely delighted by the affection he and Edward share; Lucius has called him ‘revoltingly smitten’ and ‘actually disgusting’ just today, which is as close to a compliment as Stede expects to get from the scribe. ‘Puppy love,’ Black Pete had concurred with him, which Stede chose to take in his stride. After all, Edward is his first love! He’s quite chuffed the crew have noticed.
The thing with time now fluctuating as it does, is that Stede hasn’t quite gotten around to telling Ed that he loves him. When they’re together, time moves like molasses– slow, sweet, sticky. Moments linger, seconds drag like fingertips over damp expanses of skin. A kiss unfurls and blooms; bodies peak and fold. Stede feels as if he has forever to tell Ed, and that if he only waits just a little longer, the perfect chance will present itself. But then the minutes evaporate like smoke, lazy stretches suddenly sucked away like water down a drain. As quick as a blink, a gasp, a dream. Stede’s perfect moment evaporates and he swallows those precious little words back down.
Tonight is a syrupy night. It began with a bubble bath and progressed to Ed on top of him. Time like single threads of silk floss stretched and spun, woven into something soft and shimmering. Time like their languid kisses, slick and plush; time frozen in the moment they each reached climax.
The seconds are moored, weighted with dragging breaths and pinned by careful kisses.
Time begins thawing with a yawn. Ed rises from his place above Stede and falls limply beside him. He offers a melodramatic sigh as he sprawls, something giving a startlingly loud pop as Ed stretches and twists in the sheets. Stede chuckles fondly– all the sweet words he’d like to offer Edward are currently lost, having maybe escaped on each shaky exhale.
Another new routine is the clean-up. Stede retrieves a warm cloth from a waiting basin and drags it up Ed's thigh, washing him with soft passes of the fabric. Ed shivers and Stede leans forward to press a kiss to his shoulder. He rinses the cloth and gives himself a quick once over. Satisfied, Stede flings the fabric to the bedside table and the pair of them sink back down onto the bedding.
“Comfy? “ Stede asks wryly, the word laden with new meaning since their first coupling.
Edward rolls onto his side and nods, watching him with a quiet admiration, a sensation Stede had never previously felt directed at him. At first, it was a little like staring at the midday sun; dazzling, but too strong, too bright. He had to look away, blink his vision clear. It still startles Stede now, to have someone look at him this way, but he’s building up his tolerance, bit by bit. The pair lay like bookends, watching each other in easy silence. Stede’s gaze sweeps the length of Ed’s bare figure; the toe tapping absently, the woolly thigh hair that trails upwards, meeting at a point beneath his belly button. The patchwork of ink and scars and freckles; the stories of each addition still evading Stede. He's asked about the mermaid and the snake, the ship and the skull that Ed claimed ‘just looks cool’. And sure, he's right, but Stede's certain there must be more to some of these adornments. There must be celebratory pieces and memorials, perhaps some done on a bet, or a dare. He doesn't expect a grand tale for each and every tattoo but surely a few must hold secrets! He's made something of a game out of asking, just one each day, but Ed's still coy about them. Stede's focus drifts up Ed's chest– he knows now the ship is a homage to Ed's first sloop, Concord. But Edward had little to tell him other than he was a bit pissed when the crew talked him into it. Beyond its faded sails, Stede can make out the tail of a crow or raven, and the underbelly of a shark. A huge octopus occupies Ed's bicep, and Stede wonders why this arm is mostly home to creatures. Stede has chosen the target for his daily question.
"I haven't asked about this chap," Stede says, tracing the outline of the octopus on Ed's upper arm.
Ed twists his neck to look and Stede catches his lips in a lazy kiss, unhurried and gentle now they're subdued from earlier passions.
"Ask him yourself," Ed murmurs, rubbing his nose to Stede's. He rolls back over with a sleepy sigh, tugging Stede's arm around to use as a pillow.
"He only has seven," Stede observes, a fingertip looping over the curling tentacles.
Ed shrugs against him. "'s a tough life out here, mate. Don't be too hard on the guy."
"How rude of me," Stede muses, "It's just that, an octopus has the ability to grow back its lost limbs."
"Psh, maybe it just happened."
"Oh dear," Stede says with mock earnestness. "Perhaps an incident with his shark friend down here?" He trails his fingers to Ed’s forearm and traces the pointed tips of the tattoo.
"Some friend he is," Ed scoffs.
Stede chuckles lightly. "May put a slight damper on things."
"Nah, you'd let me have a little nibble, wouldn't you?" Ed pulls Stede's wrist to his lips and places several quick sucking kisses.
"No!" Stede giggles, pretending to wrestle his arm back. "I need that one! Take the other!"
"Just a finger or two?" Ed pleads, nipping lightly at his fingertips.
"Fine, fine!" Stede cackles, going lax against him. "It's your loss anyway."
Ed snaps his teeth at Stede's knuckles, as if he's chomped off the top third of each digit.
“You'll make do,” Ed says, giving the back of his hand a conciliatory pat.
“It's not me I'm worried about,” Stede teases back, raising a brow suggestively. “Besides, you're distracting me. I'm still waiting on an octopus answer.”
“A squid solution?” Ed offers back, eyes creasing with amusement.
Stede giggles, “Mmhm, a cephalopod story.”
“A fucking what?” Ed blinks at him but is still grinning widely. “Sounds rude.”
“Maybe it is,” Stede says, “That could be how he lost the tentacle.”
Ed sways forward, burying his face against Stede's shoulder as he snorts with laughter.
“Poor little sexy-la-pod.” Ed's voice is muffled.
Stede chuckles along with him, wrapping an arm around Edward who's making no effort to shift back. Tresses of wavy hair spill out behind him, gleaming like polished pewter in the moonlight. Stede feels Ed sigh against him.
“Got it done on my birthday,” Ed utters, “must have been a good 20 years ago.”
Stede gives a hum of encouragement.
“They're smart little bastards, can escape from just about anything. Had a cook lose one from a pot, can you imagine?” He scoffs. “Y’know, they can change their colour and shape to fit in anywhere too.” Ed wiggles his hands in against his chest, either in a shiver or a mime of undulating tentacles.
Naturally, Stede knows this and many other fascinating tidbits about the creatures, and has to bite his tongue from jumping in with facts about their three hearts or paralytic ink or blue blood or sharp beaks… He can read between the lines here, the symbol of escape, of camouflage and hiding.
“My mum’s people,” Ed continues, though his voice is softer. “In tāmoko, it means warrior, or unrelenting.” Ed nuzzles in closer, as if hoping the words won't reach Stede. “The kraken.”
Stede strokes the damp curls at Ed’s temple, slow, soothing sweeps of his fingertips. He waits a moment, but Ed remains silent.
“It seems like he’s had a lot going on,” Stede says sympathetically, shifting his palm back to the octopus tattoo. “A lot of big expectations for just one guy.”
“Mnn,” Ed offers, not shifting from his hiding place.
“It's nice he gets to retire with all his friends here?” Stede prompts, tracing a tentacle downward and tapping over to the crow and the shark.
“Some friends,” Ed mutters. “They ate his fuckin’ arm. He’s all wonky now, skew-whiff.”
“Maybe it’s just behind his back?” Stede suggests, “It’s obvious now, but I missed it earlier.”
“Maybe it’s not.” Ed counters, “Maybe he’s just a shitty, broken octopus.”
“Then he’s not going to feel that way forever, his tentacle will grow back. In fact, it only takes them a few months!” Stede feels Ed’s body stiffen against him.
His voice is tiny, wary. “...And if it doesn’t grow back?”
“That’s okay. His friends will still love him.” Stede eases their bodies apart, needing to look Edward in the eye before he continues. Time stills, and Stede feels the pressure of the breath caught in Ed’s chest. “I’ll still love you.”
Ed frowns. He blinks rapidly. Stede watches his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.
“Yeah?”
“I promised you, didn’t I? That I'd take care of you?”
Ed gives him a curt nod, then tucks his chin to his chest. “‘s just a tattoo,” he mumbles into his beard, but Stede can make out the flicker of a smile.
“I know.”
Stede doesn’t argue about the semantics. He could easily babble on, reminding Ed that he’s not broken beyond mending, that he’s brilliant and beautiful and so loveable.
“Love you too,” Ed murmurs. Time restarts dizzyingly fast, jolting Stede into its slipstream.
He stares at Ed, the words swirling dizzyingly around his mind before they can register.
“Oh?”
The room around Stede spins, them at the centre of a waterspout. Then it hits him all at once and he beams.
“Oh!” Stede squeaks, and Ed’s face scrunches up in a grin.
All he says is, “Yeah,” and then they’re kissing again, a clumsy caress that continues even as their smiles widen.
The thread of time knots and loops around them, melting with their movements– a curling, decadent moment binding them. Stede doesn’t know how long they lay like that, tangled, fused, captivated. Time weaving intricately, sumptuously; like braided gold, or spun cashmere. Like fingers twisting in hair and limbs clasped tight. Like lips skimming and noses brushing.
Time existing only in the breaths they share, in the places their smiles meet.
Countless seconds, fleeting minutes; Stede knows they’ve time to spare.