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All the joy on the boat, inspired by the surprise success of the truly awful fuckery (except for that thing with Lucius’s finger, and the Swede’s shockingly moving voice, and, okay, Jim’s thing was pretty cool for something put together so last-minute) dissipated immediately with Izzy’s challenge.
The crew silenced as Izzy advanced on Stede, their faces falling with every heavy step. Ed’s heart beat frantically in his chest. Half an hour ago, Ed had decided to let himself be vulnerable for the first time in decades, sobbing into Stede’s fancy gold dressing gown as he confessed to maybe the most selfish murder plot he’d ever concocted.
And Stede had just… forgiven him. Absolved him. Like it was nothing.
And Izzy was about to kill him.
“Fuck off, Izzy,” Ed ordered. He didn’t put himself between them just yet—didn’t want to give that much away. He wasn’t sure when losing Stede had become something he feared, but he wasn’t about to let Izzy Hands of all people hold it over his head. “You’ve made your point. No need to go and kill him.”
Stede, the frilly idiot, gasped, affronted by the slight. “Honestly, Ed, I don’t consider myself that helpless. I’m more than capable of holding my own. I dare say you’ve taught me well!”
“Not well enough!” Stede paid him no mind as he fumbled to free his sword from its ridiculously expensive sheath. His sword looked out of place in his hand, like it didn’t belong there. Like Stede didn’t belong there. Ed clenched his jaw. “Izzy knows his shit. You won’t be–”
“Very well, then, Mr. Hands. I graciously accept your challenge!”
Fuck.
“No he doesn’t!”
Stede faltered, glanced over at Ed like he had just done something unhinged like… offer afternoon tea or some shit. Ed gave him a look that hopefully communicated IF YOU FIGHT THIS MAN, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE.
Ed was not surprised that it went entirely over Stede’s head.
“Er, yes” the gentleman argued. “I do accept, actually.”
Izzy, who had been silently watching them, no doubt cursing their idiocy, drew his sword with a flourish and advanced, only freezing when Ed's eyes locked onto him. Even after serving under him all these years, Izzy wasn’t immune to the full fury of Blackbeard.
“He doesn’t!”
“Yes, he does! I does– do! I do ac–”
“Oh, stop blabbing, you fuckin’ idiot!” Izzy snapped. “Draw your fuckin’ sword and fight me like a man.”
Obviously arguing with Stede was going nowhere. It took Ed only a moment to change gears, reluctantly tearing his eyes from the tip of Izzy's sword pointed resolutely at Stede’s chest.
“Let’s talk about this, Izzy,” Ed tried. “Your fight is with me, not Bonnet.”
“No, it’s definitely with Bonnet,” Izzy replied easily. He turned his sword in his hand, adjusted his grip, inched closer to Stede. “This soft-bellied little worm and his pathetic crew are ruining our reputation!” At that, Stede and his crew let out a chorus of offended groaning and sputtering. “And if you won’t kill the stupid nancy, I will. And unlike you, I will enjoy it.”
All of a sudden, Ed’s blood turned cold. His thoughts swam behind his eyes, muddying his vision. When it cleared, his father stood in front of him, glowering down at him, one rough hand reaching out for his hair — dark, curly, and longer than any other boys’ in the village.
“Why the fuck have you let his hair get this long?” came his father’s voice. Ed felt rather than saw his mother standing, trembling, behind him. The hand in his hair kept his gaze fixed firmly on his father’s snarling lips. Flecks of spit flew off them and landed on Ed's rounded cheeks. “Got asked today at the docks if my boy was a goddamned nancy. Fucking humiliating.”
Ed blinked, hard, though he couldn’t entirely dispel the feeling of his father’s hands in his hair, or the knife that nicked his ear as it cut through his thick locks. He took a shuddering breath, quickly wiping tears from his eyes. Luckily the crew was too focused on Stede’s blabbing and Izzy’s threatening to notice him all that much.
“–ve accomplished a fair bit of trickery in my day,” Stede boasted. “If I recall correctly, it was my crew and I who outwitted you on that not-so-deserted isle and regained one of our hostages!”
“A lucky break,” Izzy snapped. “Raise your– ack!”
Ed’s hand was around Izzy’s throat before he even realized it. The other man’s sword clattered to the ground, and his gloved hands scrambled to loosen Ed’s grip.
“Ed-Edward–”
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” Ed growled. He felt raw and wild, like someone had scooped out his insides and replaced them with gunpowder, and Izzy was the bastard holding a match between his teeth. “If I ever hear you say that fucking word again, if someone tells me you said it, if I even think you look like you might have said it, I’ll cut out your FUCKING TONGUE, do you understand me?”
“You wouldn’t. You need me,” Izzy rasped. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when Ed’s dagger appeared, just millimeters from his face.
“You think I value your words that much? You think I couldn’t replace you in a goddamn second?” Ed demanded. Izzy didn’t reply. Probably couldn’t, if Ed thought about it. Good. He didn’t need to hear anymore. “Stede.”
The other man approached cautiously, the look on his face a mixture of fear and awe. Ed tried not to hate himself for inspiring that look.
“Er, yes?” Stede asked. “Edward, is everything all right?”
“Yeah, totally fine,” Ed replied. “Just time for a pirating lesson. This one’s on handling first mates who’re out of line .”
“Oh, I doubt I’ll need that. Mr. Buttons is a fine–”
“Stede. Come hold his mouth open."
“No.”
Ed froze, unconsciously loosened his grip on Izzy’s throat. He turned to Stede, searching his face, wracking his brain for something he could have done wrong. Izzy insulted him. He insulted both of them. Did Stede not… care?
“...No?”
“No! Edward, aren’t you taking this a bit too far?” Stede asked. He reached out to touch Ed’s shoulder, but he must have thought better of it. “There’s been no harm done.”
“Yes there has,” Ed seethed. Izzy grimaced as the tip of Ed’s dagger cut the skin of his cheek. Ed didn’t care. Ed wanted him to hurt. He wanted it to hurt just like that fucking word. “He’s not allowed to call you that.”
“Excellent communication of boundaries, Ed. That’s very good.” Ed tried not to blush at the praise. Fucking embarrassing, it was. “Now, this is certainly not the way we settle a squabble on this ship! What do we do, gang?” Stede looked to the crew for support, a bright smile on his face. “Lucius? Frenchie?”
“Talk it through, boss.” It was Olu who spoke up first, followed by murmurs of agreement from the rest of the crew.
“Exactly!” Stede exclaimed. “Thank you, Oluwande. Why don’t we try talking it out then, hm? You two are good friends, I’m sure it doesn’t have to come down to… permanently disfiguring anyone. Right, Ed? Ed?”
Ed let out a slow breath through his teeth. He couldn’t believe he was about to back down, just because Stede asked him to. And to spare Izzy of all people—the same Izzy whose new favorite hobby was shitting on anything Ed happened to enjoy (especially when it had anything to do with Stede), the same Izzy who had literally just challenged Stede to a duel in front of his crew (totally not cool, since they were technically still guests on Stede’s ship, and since Ed was sure someone would stab Izzy if he actually killed Stede, and two bodies really was a lot of trouble for something that could have been settled with a missing tongue).
Izzy let out a harsh cough as he hit the deck. Ed didn’t look to see if he had landed on his feet, just waited for the idiot to stop hacking.
“Fine. I’ll talk it through,” Ed said. He turned to Izzy with what he knew was his coldest look, the one he used when he wanted to scare the shit out of someone so bad they gave him whatever he wanted without a fight. “I killed the last man who said that word in front of me.” Ed thanked whatever was out there that the words didn’t sound like a confession. “It was slow. I made it last. Remember that. And don’t you ever fucking question me again.”
Several moments of silence followed, during which Ed’s gaze traveled from Izzy over to the rest of the crew, who stared at him with varying levels of fear (from Jim, who didn’t seem to be affected at all, to Lucius, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the show, to Frenchie, who was white as a sheet). Funnily enough, Ed didn’t think he ever would have had to correct any of Stede’s crew for saying such a thing.
“Well!” Stede clapped his hands together and grinned. “That was marvelous, Ed. Much easier than ripping somebody’s tongue out, wasn’t it?”
Ed shrugged. He didn’t want to look at Izzy anymore. Didn’t want to see that look on Izzy’s stupid fucking face, the one he always got when he caught Blackbeard slipping.
“Whatever. Coulda used the practice.”
“Again, fantastic demonstration of restraint. Now, Izzy? Have you anything to get off your chest?”
Izzy looked between them wildly, his confusion palpable.
“What the fuck was that?” he asked, more to himself than anyone else. (At least Ed wasn’t about to answer.) “What the fuck’s wrong with you? Can’t you see what he’s doing to you?”
Ed’s fingers twitched, and he pictured his knife at Izzy’s throat once again. But then he pictured the disappointed look on Stede’s face, both in Ed’s actions and in the blood on his perfectly crafted deck. (Ed had heard about how painstakingly Stede had selected the material for The Revenge; once he got going, it was difficult to get him to stop.)
With a start, Ed realized that Izzy was right. He had changed. He was different around Stede. A little softer. A little less harsh. A little less Blackbeard.
And whatever Izzy thought, Ed liked himself more when he was with Stede. Better than he had ever liked himself when he was fucking around doing pirate shit with Izzy.
Maybe it was this realization that distracted him from Izzy’s original challenge.
There came a yelp followed by the clanging of swords as they met in the air, and Stede, woefully caught off guard, struggled to block Izzy’s advances. Ed watched Stede closely, critiqued his form and his stance, cringed at his footwork. He watched until he couldn’t anymore, until he almost stalked off the deck to keep from dueling Izzy himself.
Of course it was at that moment that Stede got run through.
The crew let out a collective gasp, and several of them rushed forward to tend to their fallen captain. Ed stood rooted to his spot on the deck, eyes fixed on the wound in Stede’s abdomen. A few members of the crew darted this way and that, shouting things about gauze and stitches and pressure, and Ed just stared, even as Stede’s gaze came to rest on him.
“Did I– Did I do it right?” he asked. “It’s my left, he got my left. Did I do it right?”
“You’re gonna be all right, Captain,” Olu said. Blood covered his hands, oozed between his fingers as it soaked through the hat he was pressing to the wound. “Frenchie and Roach will be back soon with some stuff. We’ll stitch you up and get you good as new just like last time.”
Ignoring the flurry of activity behind him, Izzy moved towards Ed, his sword still dripping blood.
Ed raised his pistol. Izzy frowned. Faltered.
“Edward–”
“If you’re not off this ship in the next minute, I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
Izzy scoffed. “You can’t be serious!”
Ed cocked the gun. Slowly, as though he still didn’t believe it, Izzy made his way to the edge of the ship, pleading the whole way. Ed didn’t listen.
He watched the little black dot of Izzy’s rowboat fade into the dark night, stayed there until he was sure Izzy wasn’t thinking of coming back. By that time, the crew had stitched up Stede’s side and removed him from the deck. Oluwande gave Ed a knowing look as he ducked into the captain’s quarters. Ed chose to ignore it.
Lucius sat by Stede’s side, hastily writing in that journal Stede seemed to love so much. Stede, for the most part whole, was happily describing the experience of being stabbed. He didn’t seem to care all that much about Lucius’s missing finger.
“Terrible pain,” he said, even as Lucius grimaced. “Localized, but at the same time, spreading all throughout the body. Burning, but also frigid cold down to the tips of one’s toes. Piercing, but surprisingly– Ed!”
Lucius’s quill froze, and he frowned. “What’s– Oh! Captain Blackbeard, sir. I should’ve known you’d be in here soon enough.”
Ed chose to ignore that too.
“Izzy’s gone,” he told Stede. He tried not to grimace at the roughness of his own voice. “Are you all right?”
“As right as I can be,” Stede replied. “What do you mean by gone?”
Ed shrugged. “Gone. I sent him away.”
“I’m sorry, did you say gone?” Lucius asked. “Like, for good?”
Stede looked back at his scribe like he just remembered the boy was there.
“Lucius, be a good lad and let me and Ed have a moment alone, yeah?”
The boy’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline.
“Oh yeah, yes! Obviously. I can definitely… let you have your moment,” Lucius said. He grabbed the journal and rushed past Ed, giving him a wide berth. “I’ll let the others know not to disturb you, shall I? Don’t pull anything! Night night!”
Ed almost winced when the door slammed behind Lucius. Stede definitely noticed.
“Strange kid,” Ed muttered.
“Yes, quite. Incredible penmanship, though. Come sit.”
Reluctantly, Ed took Lucius’s seat. He let his gaze wander over Stede’s form, focusing on his wound and the ministrations of the crew. Guilt settled in the pit of his stomach. If it weren’t for Ed and his stupid emotions, Izzy never would’ve gotten out of hand. He wouldn’t have taken out his frustrations on Stede. And Stede’s blood wouldn’t be soaking through his bandages.
“I see they patched you up all nice.”
Stede fingered the bandages carefully. “Oh, yes! It turns out that Frenchie is quite the seamster. Lots of unrecognized talent on this ship, it seems.”
“Bunches.”
It was quiet for a few moments, comfortable. The only sounds were that of water lapping against the side of the ship and the pounding of Ed’s heart as Stede rested a hand upon his knee. His face was on fire, he knew it. Ever since that night with the damn silk handkerchief and Stede’s damn compliment, Ed had the hardest time being fucking normal around the guy.
“Listen, Ed… about what happened out there.”
“Ugh. Can’t we just forget about all that mess?”
Stede gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid not, my friend. I’ve been stabbed—again, if I might add—and you’ve presumably just banished your first mate from my ship. Is that not worthy of an evening chat?”
Ed frowned. He was already so exhausted (and, yeah, a little embarrassed, looking back on it with a clear mind) from crying his eyes out in Stede’s bathtub that the prospect of yet another soul-searching “chat” with Stede loomed over him like a dark storm.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m, uh. I’m just– tired, is all. Been a long night.”
Stede nodded sagely, as if every word that came from Ed’s mouth was important. And not just important because he was Blackbeard and he could (theoretically) stab anyone who didn’t listen; Stede made him feel like his words were important just because he was Ed, like they were something to be savored, like his morning tea or those fancy soaps.
“Indeed it has. I’ll start us off then, and you feel free to jump in whenever you see fit. All right?”
“Feels like I don’t have a choice.”
“You’re free to leave if you like.”
Ed had a sneaking suspicion that Stede knew as well as he did that he wasn’t going to leave of his own volition. Not unless someone broke down the door and announced that the Dutch were on their tail again. Maybe not even then.
“There’s always tomorrow,” Stede assured him, although it sounded more like a threat than anything else. “Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”
“Fine,” Ed grumbled. Better to just get it over with, he thought. “I’ll listen.”
The pleased look on Stede’s face was more than worth whatever discomfort Ed may have felt about their topic of conversation.
“Wonderful! Let’s set one thing settled straight away, then,” Stede said. “It’s not your fault Izzy stabbed me.”
“I know it’s not my fault,” Ed lied. Fuck, he cursed himself. Shoulda taken the out when you had the chance. He leapt to his feet, unwilling to face Stede’s earnest gaze head on. The brandy on the serving cart across the room provided a more than reasonable excuse to escape Stede’s line of sight. “But I coulda… I dunno. I coulda done something! Coulda made sure he wasn’t gonna fuckin’ stab you!”
“I stabbed you just last week, and you weren’t mad at me for that, were you?”
“‘S different. I asked for that.”
“Well, I suppose in a way, Izzy would think I asked for this, wouldn’t he?” Stede’s eyes brightened as Ed handed him a glass of brandy. “Oh! Thank you. You’re not having any?”
Ed ignored the question, back to pacing like an animal in its gilded cage. He felt again as though he needed to crawl out of his own skin; not from the boredom he’d been suffering in the years before meeting Stede, but because there was so much shit going on in his head that he didn’t know what to make of it. There was Stede, sipping the accepted brandy, worrying at his bandages, telling Ed that it wasn’t his fault even though it so obviously was. And there was Ed, losing his mind over a few kind words.
“But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t. I’m lucky I’ve got you aboard teaching me how to protect all my important bits, aren’t I?”
Ed scoffed. “No, mate. I don’t think you’re lucky to have me around at all. All it’s got you is hurt.”
“Nonsense!” Stede argued. “Why, you’re teaching me all about this pirating business, and, dare I say, I happen to enjoy your company. Not to mention, if you hadn’t been there to pluck me off that Spanish ship right when you did, I’d still be strung up and waving in the breeze!”
Ed froze mid-step. He glanced at Stede over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.
“You enjoy my company?”
“Yes. I told you, I’m your friend. Now, do sit down. You’re making me nervous with all that back and forth.”
Ed did as he was told, and Stede’s hand found his knee again, like it was natural. Like it was supposed to be there, branding his skin through layers of leather, suggesting an intimacy that made Ed flush with both desire and embarrassment.
“I want to talk about the unfortunate incident that occurred, er… before the whole stabbing thing.”
Ed itched to get up and pace again, but Stede’s grip on his knee kept him still.
“You should know that it’s far from the first time someone has called me that, or implied… certain shortcomings. And, unpleasant as it may be, it won’t be the last.”
“What d’you mean?”
“I mean that people have called me things like that all my life. I’m quite used to it.” A haunted look passed over Stede’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it settled there. “Anyhow, if you really think about it, they’re right.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Well.” Stede huffed. “They are, aren’t they? I do enjoy the finer things in life. I pick flowers and read romances, and I’d never harmed a living thing until– until beginning my life at sea. I couldn’t even butcher a Christmas goose. My father…”
Stede’s eyes went glassy, but Ed wasn’t sure which pain caused it.
“All right, mate?”
“Hm? Oh.” Stede shot Ed a weak smile. “Yes. My point is—I’m soft, Edward. I’m not like you. Or Izzy.”
Ed frowned at the mental image of Stede without all his finery, all wrapped up in leather and scars and numbness, hardened into the killing instrument the high seas demanded. No marmalade, no silk, no perfumes. Ruthless. Sharp.
“Yeah, well. No one’s like Izzy, he’s kind of a freak.”
Stede choked on a laugh.
“He is quite the character,” he chuckled. “Listen, Ed. I may be a nancy, but I like myself just fine. Of course I want to be a better captain and a better pirate, but that doesn’t mean I have to give up all the things that make me happy. My books, my clothes, my people-positive management style. Other people may not like it, and in fact they often don’t, but there’s things about myself that I simply cannot change, no matter how hard I try. So I don’t. Not anymore.”
“Not anymore?”
“No. What could I do? What could I change? The very core of my being?” Stede asked. “Why, thats like– like asking Jim to be less mysterious, or asking Wee John to stop setting things on fire so often.”
“Yeah, definitely wouldn’t want that,” Ed replied. “For what it’s worth, being all tough and fearsome isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“No, I suppose not, if all you get for it is stabbed.”
Ed laughed. “And you’ve been stabbed a lot, for a guy who became a pirate, like, two months ago.”
“Ugh, I know. Does that ever stop?”
“It might if you stop pissing people off.”
“Come, now.” Stede smiled, a mischievous little look that lit up his whole face. “What kind of pirate would I be then?”
“An alive one, you lunatic!” Ed laughed. Stede laughed along but grimaced when the movement pulled his stitches. “One with significantly less abdominal wounds.”
“I suppose you’ve got a point there.”
“I suppose I do,” Ed replied. He clapped his hands on his thighs and stood, backing towards the door slowly. If he didn't make any sudden movements, Stede might let him go without asking another damn question. “And if that’s all you wanted to talk about, mate, I’m gonna hit the sack. Call out if you need anything. I’ll– I’ll make sure someone’s posted outside your door, all right?”
“Why don’t you– I mean. I’ve heard that the settee makes a perfectly comfortable bed. Perhaps you—or someone else, of course, I know you’re busy. But perhaps you wouldn’t mind–”
“Yes, of course. I’ll– yeah,” Ed sputtered, blushing at his own eagerness. The only thing saving him from total embarrassment was that Stede seemed just as flustered as he was. “Better make sure that wound doesn’t get any worse, right?”
Stede smiled, and Ed couldn’t help but smile softly back.
“My thoughts exactly!”
Ed pulled his leather jacket off and draped it over the back of the settee, opting to sleep in just his leather trousers and loose shirt. His knee would be sore in the morning; it would be twinging all day. But at least the cushions were comfortable and wouldn’t be so hard on his back. It was just a win some/lose some kind of day.
Too bad Ed kept losing.
Just as he was about to flop onto the settee and tuck in for bed, Stede cleared his throat and caught his attention.
“Edward?”
“Yeah, mate?”
“Can I ask you a question?” he said, pale eyebrows knitting together. Ed’s hesitation must have shown on his face, because Stede continued, “Just one. And you don’t even have to answer it.”
Ah, what the hell.
“Yeah. But no promises.”
“That’s more than fair,” Stede replied. “Your reaction to… to that word. It was a bit…”
Ed cringed, covered his face with his hands. “Stupid? Ugh, I knew it was stupid.”
“No! Heavens, no. It was…” Stede trailed off, eyes going blank as he searched for the right word. “Intense. Unexpected.”
“So? What about it?”
“Well, I appreciated the enthusiasm. It means a lot to me that you would… stick up for me like that. No one’s ever done that for me before.”
Ed frowned. Weren’t friends supposed to do that sort of thing for each other? Hadn’t Stede just done that five nights ago (not that Ed was thinking about it that often) when he made those fancy people set their ship on fire?
“No shit. Really?”
Stede just nodded. Ed got the feeling that, had he been able to move, Stede would already be at his side, coaxing more and more emotions out of him, emotions he was just remembering he had.
“It was quite kind of you,” he said, “but… I just can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t just about me. It seemed like more than that.” Ed’s whole body went taut, like a line about to snap. Stede, ever so oblivious, continued, “I understand it’s a terribly upsetting word, even if it’s not exactly applicable to oneself or one’s own experiences, and to hear it can be incredibly jarring at times, so I dare not assume one’s personal relationship to a word like that, especially used in such a careless and demeaning way, but I–”
“Stede. The question.”
“Right! Was it– Was it about you too?”
Ed's vision swam. His breath came in gulps, lungs rattling around in his ribcage like a spooked animal. He looked everywhere but at Stede, focusing in turns on books and trinkets lining the walls, the plant on the harpsichord Stede had so excitedly pointed out to him, the fireplace that went unused most of the time.
He was with Stede. He was safe. But still the phantom fist in his hair tightened. Still he gasped for air and wanted to cry please don't-
“You don’t have to answer that. You were right earlier, it’s been a long night for both of us. You should get some sleep. Ignore me.”
Ed wanted to tell him. Ed wanted to tell him more than anything in the world. More than he wanted the riches, the fame, the adventure. He wanted to let Stede into his head and heart, wanted to hand him the spare keys and say please. Please keep this safe. He wanted.
He was getting used to allowing himself to do that.
But wanting was dangerous territory, and giving those particular keys away was too close for comfort, too close in fucking general. Not even Izzy knew about his dad, about all the horrible cutting things he used to say, all the expectations neither he nor his mother could ever hope to reach.
“Edward? Are you all right? Have I– If I’ve overstepped, I’m truly sorry. I only wanted to understand.”
What a novel feeling, Ed thought, to have someone who wanted to understand you.
“Not tonight, mate.” Ed hazarded a glance in Stede’s direction, hoping the other man wouldn’t be too disappointed. “But maybe– Maybe some other time, yeah?”
Stede gave him a warm smile, as pleasant and genuine as ever, and Ed’s heart started doing backflips in his chest. Oh, he was fucked fucked.
“I’d like that. Some other time, then.”