Chapter Text
Stede’s first mistake was agreeing to the proposition in the first place. But then, it was so difficult to say no to his ex-wife. Mary knew that; it was a fact of their dynamic that she was more than willing to wield against him, as seemingly innocuous as her paintbrush - Until she set out to create something and you quickly realized you were in the presence of a master.
In this case, Mary seemed intent on creating Stede’s downfall.
Or the end of his seven year long dry spell. It wasn’t his fault that those two things seemed inextricable.
His second mistake had been telling Lucius about it - And this one he could really only blame himself for. Seeking comfort in the reassurance of his younger co-worker was foolish. No, expecting any comfort in the first place was foolish.
Still, Lucius’ crows of triumph in the break room seemed a bit of an overreaction.
“Oh, thank god someone in your life is able to talk sense into you. God knows I resigned from that role years ago.”
Stede stared in aghast. He hadn’t been aware of Lucius’ resignation.
“I didn’t say I agree to it, Lucius. I just told her I would think about it.”
Lucius cocked his head and pursed his lips in an altogether rather mocking fashion.
“I think we all know that Stede Bonnet is not going to refuse anything the darling Mary Ex-Bonnet asks of him. Bit silly of you to try.”
His third mistake had been assuming that Lucius wasn’t just as aware of his weaknesses as Mary, inexplicably close friends that they were.
There was no reason to refute his statement, it had been made plain. But then, could that be Stede's fault as well? He had been a terrible husband; it was a miracle they had been able to overcome the years of strain and tension and emerge on the other side of a lengthy divorce proceeding still holding hands - Just in a much more fitting, platonic manner. If he could make her happy now, exchange smiles that had been so unfamiliar in their relationship, well how could Stede pass up the opportunity - Even if this time, his smile was really one of gritted teeth.
“Really, Lucius, can you imagine me on a blind date? At my age?”
“Yes, very easily, Stede. It’s a beautiful mental image. Sad, but also cute. Like when you see an old person eating by themselves.”
Stede wondered - To his credit, it was a very brief wonder - if their office break room was too public a place for a murder.
“I think that rather proves my point.”
“Well then forget I said it. I think it’s a good idea, Stede. Your cock is going to have forgotten how to function. If you wait any longer, we’ll have to take it out back and put it out of its misery.”
Stede wished, nothing brief about it, that he could be put out of his own misery right at that moment. His face must have indicated something along those lines because Lucius’ expression softened, if by a tiny fraction.
“It’s a fun idea. And what harm can it do?”
“Plenty of harm,” He huffed petulantly, “I’ll feel compelled to take them to one of my favorite eateries and then it will be forever tainted with the reminder of an awkward date that probably ended in a handshake.”
“Who says you have to do that? Take them to Olive Garden.”
“I will not step foot into Olive Garden.” Stede declared, affronted. “They are a disgrace to Italian food.”
“I can’t believe I’m friends with someone who thinks they’re above unlimited breadsticks.” His co-worker pondered for a moment, gaze turning thoughtful. “It’s too bad I’m not the one setting you up on a blind date. Pete’s just met someone who’d be right up your alley. Upper-class. Recently divorced. Didn’t realize he was gay till after. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
The allure of, admittedly weak, company caffeine had quickly been outweighed by the aggrievement the conversation had sired; Stede poured the remnants of his coffee down the sink and began washing out the mug, more than ready to return to the relative safety of his office.
“That’s not really what I’d like to be remembered for, but yes, familiar enough. If this date is terrible-” Stede ignored the fact that he made it sound as if he had already agreed to the idea, “-I’m sure I’ll wish I’d have gone with your pick instead.”
His back was turned to Lucius as he stood at the counter, opening the cabinet to put away his clean cup, but he could still hear his smirk, as clear as day, when he responded.
“Why miss out?”
Stede felt a shiver run up his spine. He had left his dark suit jacket back in his office and he longed for the extra layer of warmth - and protection. With a released breath, he turned to face his perpetrator and saw the man’s grin was just as wicked as he had imagined.
“What do you mean?”
“Let me set up a blind date for you as well. The more options the better, don’t you think? And - You know what, Oluwande mentioned just last week he had someone he thought you’d hit it off with.”
“I’m going to hit you right off.”
“Kinky, Stede, but save it for your dates.”
Stede felt a whirling swirl of emotions rising through his chest. Mostly panic. The barest hint of excitement, possibly, maybe, probably not.
“Dates ? Lucius - I’m not - I will not be a guinea pig for you three! I’m not looking for something casual and blasé- Three?! That’s three eateries I’ll never be able to patron again and - Certainly, certainly not. I’m putting a foot down-”
“Cool, I already texted Mary. She thinks it’s a great idea.”
Stede’s fourth - four? Already!? - mistake was thinking he ever stood a chance.
The end result wasn’t anything as simple as a single blind date. It had been twisted into something monstrous and malevolent: A scheme. A scheme orchestrated by more people than Stede knew cared about his love life - Or the sorry lack of, as those concerned were quick to remind him.
Mary and Lucius weren’t the only ones who had anonymous bachelors for Stede to struggle to impress; true to his word, Oluwande had been roped into the debacle as well. Even more surprisingly, his partner, Jim, had wanted to throw their own metaphorical hat into the - what Stede was beginning to feel was a very real - ring.
Stede knew Jim well enough through the countless dinners had with Oluwande and their, remarkably tight, group that also included his ex-wife, his constant terrorizer, Lucius, and by association, the latter’s boyfriend, Pete.
He thought them a rather motley crew, and the part of him that was touched at these five people being concerned enough to go out of their way to set up a date for Stede Bonnet, well, that part of him was only moderately sized. Besides, it was too late to thank any of them for their intentions - He was far too busy weakly protesting against it and trying to choose five different weekend night outfits. And panicking. There was plenty of time to panic.
His biggest concern was probably Jim’s pick. They weren't the only one in the group not involved in the same workplace - Mary and Pete rounded out that category. But they were, even with the dinners, the member of their group that Stede knew the least. Jim actually had a job in the restaurant industry, and with their steely gaze, silent demeanor and one-too-many jokes about perfect aim with a throwing knife, he didn’t even want to imagine who they might choose to pair him up with. He wouldn’t find out until the end of it all either. So excited were they to unleash their picks onto Stede that lots had been drawn for the proper order of the next five weeks. Jim had pulled the short straw.
Still, he wasn’t allowed to complain, as Jim had been the one to solve his eatery dilemma, offering up their place of work as a neutral meeting ground for all of the dates, if Stede desired.
Seeing as how his other option had been Olive Garden, he hardly hesitated at all before agreeing, and it was at this restaurant that Stede waited for his first date.
It wouldn’t have been his first choice for a date. For starters, it was called The Kraken - Obviously some sort of seafood establishment, but the name hardly indicated the sort of savoir faire fare he tended to seek out. It was isolated too, comparatively, right outside of the metropolis he worked and lived in.
Apparently he had frequented the place once before - With the rest of the group, of course. They had evidently gotten so drunk and caused a big enough ruckus that Jim had permanently banned them from ever setting foot across the threshold. He couldn’t really recall the night, but for someone who had a master’s degree in holding grudges, it was a very big deal they were letting Stede come back. Oluwande had informed him he may never be so lucky again.
Besides, Stede had to admit there was something…Oh, he didn’t know, romantic maybe, about the setting. It was all dark, polished wood and low, warm lighting, sultry and moody. Sconces like lanterns, private booths and round, open tables, and, most importantly, a full bar, nearly a dozen high stools awaiting him like an armed guard. If Stede looked fiercely out of place in his black cashmere turtleneck and charcoal blazer set, well it wasn’t a problem a glass or two of the restaurant’s finest brandy couldn’t fix.
He hadn’t meant to appear so overdressed but then, he hadn’t known Jim’s restaurant would be so…rustic. (He hadn’t even needed reservations!) There was another reason too. The “winner” - if they could be termed that - of the draw had been Mary. Her choice would start the whole thing off, a fitting launch, as it had been her idea to begin with.
Mary was an artist now; her career had just started blossoming at the final withering of their marriage. Stede wasn’t what you would call involved in the art scene, but there had been a time when their Venn diagram of respective social communities had been a circle. There was a chance that Mary might choose someone he knew. It was a horrifying realization - One that spurred him closer to the brandy than even showing up nearly an hour early had. (It was early for the restaurant as well; few of the tables were occupied.)
If that were the case, and Stede prayed desperately that she knew him well enough to know how truly terrible a situation that would be, then the very least he could do was look the part of in-season socialite, no matter how far down their former neighbors knew he had fallen.
“-And it’s not that I regret leaving that incestous circle jerk of elitist snobs. Their comments after the divorce showed just what they thought of me - You don’t even want me to get into what they said after I came out. But I’ve known that of them since childhood. It stopped being surprising a while ago. I’m comfortable with where I am now - No, not just comfortable. I’m happy. But whenever I see them…They’re so skilled at making me feel like that isn’t enough. Do you know what I mean?”
Stede looked up from his nearly empty glass of brandy - It was no Rémy Martin, but it was alcohol - expecting the kind face and listening ear he had sat down next to fifteen minutes prior. Well, the man hadn’t looked extremely kind or receptive to Stede, but he had been the only one on Stede’s side of the counter. In fact, with his slicked back salt and pepper hair seasoning his close-cropped mustache and beard, and a hard stare of, well, disgust if he were being accurate - Needless to say, Stede only realized that perhaps the man hadn’t been too keen on listening to his wallows after all once he lifted his head and saw a row of empty stools as his audience.
“Oh.”
“You talking to yourself, mate?”
The bar sat no one save Stede yet his audience was not quite as bereft as he had thought. A forced perpetual listener, the bartender, stood on the other side of the finished wood surface, washing the pint glass Stede’s former companion had left.
“Oh!” He repeated, “Um, well - It appears so, yes. I’m not drunk yet, I promise, just…”
“Oblivious?”
Stede stared at the bartender. Unlike his customer, he fit the restaurant well. Tall - Taller than him, at least -, dark eyes and brown skin, much of which was covered in a myriad of tattoos, too many to politely inquire about, no matter how badly the urge suddenly seized Stede. A fitted black t-shirt, fitted too well along toned biceps, appeared to hide even more of them. If Stede - Well, if he had to pick a word, handsome would be apt. He had long hair that varied in shades of black and gray, matching rough stubble below, and was thrown up almost haphazardly in such a way that made Stede run a self-conscious hand along his own overly styled and swooping blonde waves.
There was no disgust in the man’s gaze. Just apathy, it appeared.
Stede swallowed the rest of his brandy. “I don’t think I’ve earned the right to object to that.”
The bartender smiled at that, wide and amused, lines crinkling adorably at the edge of his brown eyes, and Stede had to look away, towards the door where his date was bound to appear. Eventually. In forty-five minutes, if they were normal and showed up on time.
A ridiculous short time passed before he looked back at the worker standing in front of him, but it had been enough to reveal the obvious.
“You waiting for somebody?”
Stede was determined not to repeat his mistake and assume curiosity present instead of bored politeness. It was more difficult this time around; the bartender really did look curious, setting the glass down and taking a step forward, crossing his - criminal, truly - arms and peering out at him.
Still, he restrained his response.
“Yes I am. A date. A - Um, a blind date.”
“Strange pick for a blind date.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I have a friend who works here - Perhaps you know of them, Jim Jiminez? They’re doing me a favor. I was rather despondent at the idea of taking a stranger to one of my favorite restaurants and then never being able to step foot inside again should it go terribly.”
That one was a little less restrained. He hoped the dim lighting hid his blush, one that he knew, from both teasing and mocking alike, would be bright pink. The man took another step closer, resting part of his weight against the bar and quickly dashing any hopes of concealment all in one go.
“I know Jim. Hired them actually. Been trying to get their partner to join ‘em here since forever.”
“Oh! You know Oluwande? Oh, oh no. Olu is a valued co-worker, I can’t allow you to snatch him away. Do you know Lucius? You can have him instead. I’ll even pay you to take him.”
The bartender smirked. “I don’t think I know him, but you might want to work on your negotiating skills, mate. Can’t be too obvious. No one will take you up if you sound desperate.”
Stede blanched. He knew he sometimes reeked of patheticism - At his age, it was inevitable. But having desperation added to that just seemed cruel.
“If that’s true then I’ll have five failed dates by the end of this week.”
It was the bartender’s turn to look alarmed. Stede didn’t know whether to consider it a loss or a victory that the man took a step back.
“Five dates?”
“Yes, well, please, you can blame Jim and Lucius and the rest of them. Five of the dearest people in my life got together and decided the state of my love life was so abysmal, the solution could only be found in setting me up with nearly half a dozen different strangers. Consecutively.”
He would have liked to blame the rambling on the brandy, but the initial warmth it had caused in his stomach had already faded. Unfortunately, this was all Stede Bonnet. And could probably be used as unshakable evidence in court as to why he was in this situation in the first place.
“That’s…”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“A nice thing for them to do.”
“Not my exact thoughts then.”
He smiled again and Stede felt the brandy reignite. Something felt vaguely familiar about the man’s smile, almost like a dream forgotten upon waking up.
“I suppose it might be considered nice, if they had my best intentions at heart. I think they’ve started to take bets, though. I haven’t decided whether or not to report them. Or sign them up for GA.”
The bartender made a scoffing sound. “Good intentions are overrated. Road to hell and all that.”
“And gambling?”
“Underrated, for sure.”
“Looks like I’ll have six people to sign up.”
He was on a roll tonight. It was too bad this bartender wasn’t his date, because Stede was killing it. And it felt so easy too. He should have started dating again years ago.
“I’d recommend you wait until they set you up on the next date, at least.” He motioned towards the door. “You’ve been here for a little while now. Is your date showing up?”
Stede debated whether or not to order another drink.
“I won’t know for another thirty minutes. I may have been a bit too…eager to arrive punctually. Gives me plenty of time to overthink the entire encounter.”
The bartender nodded sagely.
“Will you be needing another drink to pass the time then?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I don’t want to make a bad impression. Mary genuinely might murder me if I don’t give it my best go.”
“Have another drink. It’ll give me a reason to stay out here.”
He rather appreciated having the debate decided for him.
In the following thirty minutes, Stede found out all the regular first date information - He just found it out from the bartender. He wasn’t really a bartender. He actually owned the whole restaurant, but they kept a small crew and he didn’t mind manning the bar when it was slow. He had started out as a bartender, years ago, before he began working his way up the ranks and, eventually, buying the place outright. His design was in everything, from the rugged ambiance to every item on the menu itself. And the most important information Stede found out: His name was Ed. Edward Teach.
Ed was laughing again, at something he had said. He had also found out he quite enjoyed making Ed laugh. It was all loud and brash, like Stede never was.
But the restaurant didn’t stay empty; apparent regulars of the establishment had begun to stream in, taking the notice of the only available bartender. Stede realized it made no sense to blame them for such a crime, so with only a few minutes left till the agreed date-time, he turned his full attention towards the door.
His date walked in right on time. He assumed it was his date, at least, since the man looked just as out of place as he did. Well-fitted black jeans, monochrome striped shirt, leather vest layered on top, and black and gold tea shade glasses. Shiny and pointed roach stompers to round it out. Half a shaved head on one side combated with dark locs cascading on the other. It was all very styled; tasteful and in-season, but not ostentatious. Not one of their neighbors then. One from the art scene; Stede thought he may have even seen him at some of the shows he attended for Mary.
He was already intimidated.
“Ed.”
The bartender materialized from the other end of the bar quick enough to make Stede jump. “What’s that?”
“My date is here.”
Ed looked over to the door; it didn’t take him long to clock the new arrival. He let out a low whistle of approval.
“Not bad. Who chose this one?”
“My ex-wife.”
“No hard feelings then.”
“Right now? Some hard feelings.” Stede froze the moment the words left his mouth. He wondered if it was too late for one more brandy.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“You did, mate. But I don’t blame you.”
“Ed.” Stede turned around to his companion for the last better half of an hour. A virtual stranger. Regardless, the man was his only ally in the entire restaurant.
“It has been a very long time since I’ve been on a date.”
Ed quirked an eyebrow and looked down at him with a gaze that, frankly, did nothing to help Stede’s situation with hard feelings.
“I think you mentioned that once or twice.”
“Ed.”
“Stede.”
“Wish me luck.”
“Best of it.”
It was a fine date. No, it was a good date. Great date.
It was fine.
Ivan - The man’s name was Ivan - was younger than Stede, a decade’s difference, so at first Stede didn’t know if Mary was having a laugh at him. He had a palpable energy that wasn’t too difficult to fall into; or perhaps it was just the pure adrenaline Stede had felt the entire time, he still wasn’t quite sure.
That flowing ease that had come so naturally with Ed fled at the moment Stede needed it most - Conversation was initially a little more stilted, his words more awkward. Stede felt every single bit his age. They didn’t have too many things in common. Ivan was an artist, Stede was decidedly not. Stede went for a more colorful palette scheme - Gray blazer aside - and Ivan’s entire wardrobe was purposefully monochromatic, his own words. Ivan was sustainable and Stede’s generational house was an exercise in waste. (In his defense, he was trying to downsize).
Still, he was a lovely date to have. Everything he was looking for on paper. Inquisitive of Stede’s job and interests, coolly charming, polite to the waitstaff. It helped that Stede felt as if he looked more intriguing just by association.
They talked about their jobs, the art collective Ivan had founded with Mary, the influence of punk culture on prevailing fashion trends - Stede mostly just listened at that part - and Ivan even introduced him to a fruity cocktail that looked much prettier than brandy. Tasted better too. It didn’t summon that blaze of warmth in the pools of his stomach that dark liquor usually did, but it made him more, well, giggly. Helped him forget his own geriatric age and inspired markedly less restraint when it came to the urge to feel his arms. Ivan did not seem to mind.
It was more than fine. It was nice. Which was why it came as such a shock that Stede rejected Ivan’s perfectly courteous invitation to end the night at his house - Just down the road!
He wasn’t scared, at least not so obviously - The cocktails had made sure of that. It was something else. Stede wasn’t looking for a one-off, some casual, steamy dalliance that would let him feel the true muscle behind those arms.
Well.
No, no. He knew himself. Stede was looking for something…sustainable. Ironically, he didn’t know if that was Ivan.
He still felt hopeful at the end of the night. Ivan hadn’t taken offense. In fact, the only thing he took was any coherent response on Stede’s part when he leaned in, closer than the stools were designed for, and whispered his sincere hope to see Stede again. Before he could protest, Stede’s first date out of five paid for their check and bid him goodnight.
Stede sat at the bar for a while after that, rather dazed, vaguely unsure as to whether or not he regretted his decision. The buzz of conversation from the restaurant’s many patrons - Business only seemed to increase as the sky darkened - provided white background noise. Little more than an hour had passed since the start of the date. He couldn’t help but wonder if all the dates would be such a whirlwind.
Soon after that, Ed had re-appeared. The urge to stroke toned muscle had unfortunately stayed, and Stede nearly had to avert his gaze when the man walked right up to him. It was a blessing the counter provided a barrier.
“Date go well?”
Stede had been repeatedly asking himself the same question, so he was fairly prepared to answer.
“I…think so? He invited me back to his place. That’s usually a good sign, yes?”
Ed’s smirk was delicious to witness.
Christ, Stede had had too many cocktails. He was surprised at how strongly they had gripped him. They tasted like juice!
“I wouldn’t call myself an expert but yeah, I’d take that as a good sign. What are you - Uh-” Ed faltered for a moment, as if reconsidering his words.
“What am I doing here? Instead of chasing a hot piece of ass?”
Stede needed to calm down. He needed to stop hanging out with Lucius. He needed to never again drink a cocktail with pineapple as a garnish.
Ed smiled, wider, and Stede considered ordering another round.
“Crude, but, yeah. Exactly.”
“How romantic is it if I say I’m looking for more than just a hot piece of ass?”
“Not too loudly now. We’ll have to fight people off.”
Stede cracked his own grin. His cheeks felt hot.
“Yes, well, day in the life. No but, honestly, it was flattering to have someone show interest. That doesn’t happen…ever. Often. I meant often.”
“Good, ‘cause I wouldn’t believe ever.”
And damn it all to hell if Stede didn’t giggle in that moment, like some pre-pubescent kid. Ridiculously, he felt inclined to blame Ivan.
Ed was staring at him, deep brown eyes a little wide, and Stede at least had the self-awareness to look away.
“I’m sorry, I have had one too many - Well, I don’t know what they were. I’ve never had them before but they spell ruin.”
When Stede allowed himself to look back, he was relieved to find Ed still standing there, looking - Almost concerned actually. Lighter than that, but there was a mark of care that had Stede wondering if he had ingested some brandy without knowing it.
“Have you eaten dinner?”
“Of course I -” Stede took a moment to think about it. The date with Ivan had been a little streamlined. They got to know each other and then he had wanted to get to know each other, and there hadn’t really been time for a meal in between that.
“Oh. I suppose not. On my way home I’ll probably -”
“Let me make you something.”
“What?”
Ed seemed to have his own issue with maintaining eye contact, but it was temporary. When he met Stede’s questioning gaze again, he held it.
“You don’t own a restaurant without knowing how to cook, Stede.”
“I actually don’t own a restaurant at all, Ed.”
Edward rolled his eyes at that and it was so affectionate that Stede’s breath seemed to catch in his chest.
He fought to distract himself from it.
“Besides, isn’t the kitchen closed? I heard a mean-looking man yell that out thirty minutes ago.”
That man had actually been his first bar companion - Apparently another restaurant employee - but it wasn’t a biased description on Stede’s part. At least not completely. He did look mean.
“Thta’s Izzy, he’s just like that. Kitchen’s not closed for the owner. Do you want something or not?”
Stede’s disastrously loud stomach answered the question for him.