Edward Teach hides his heartbreak behind his re-donned visage of villainy, and the rum that lines his bookshelves.
It is harder to come back to it, he thinks. Thought he'd sink right back into the familiar feel of what he used to know because pillaging and plundering are what's most familiar to him. Ed goes through the motions, but they feel foreign. He thinks instead of a mostly happy crew, treated with kindness, paid with a salary; he thinks of high cheekbones dusted a rosy pink, and soft blonde hair that curls with sweat—
Ed—wait, no, he's Blackbeard again. Blackbeard does not think of that. He does not, cannot not, refuses to— except that he can't no matter what he tries. He still thinks and dreams of hoity-toity words, insufferable silliness, and clings to the constant fear that Stede Bonnet will absolutely do something stupid enough to get himself killed.
He drowns it all in rum and the burn of the alcohol that rages through his veins is almost enough to forget. Almost.
Blackbeard spends his nights curled into the corner of bed, crying tears that he hopes no one hears because he has a fearsome reputation to uphold, and pirates are not the type to be done in and ruled by their feelings. And, it is stupid, perhaps. He should have burned the sheets; but he kept them instead, sinking into the lingering smell of Stede, and that lavender oil he used to favor.
It's nearly gone. All that'll be left in the room is the soiled smell of Blackbeard's piss and grime.
That, for some reason, burns worse than the rum.
#
The weeks are lost at the bottom of a bottle. Blackbeard goes back to pillaging and plundering, but it's done half-heartedly despite the fear that he instills. Izzy says nothing, but he certainly thinks something, judging by the just barely there sneer he wears whenever he regards him.
Captain is a flimsy title now. His anger and brokenness seep into his crew, and eventually, they all feel exhausted and battered, true reflections of his very own chipped heart. A man's crew is only as good as the care the Captain takes, Stede would say.
Blackbeard tosses the thought away immediately.
Life's easier the more that he drinks and steals, but even death at his fingertips doesn't bring the pleasure that it once did. He's a shell of a man he once was, and he's surprised to find that he doesn't want to be Blackbeard anymore, he wants to go back to Edward Teach—a quiet man who fell in love with another.
The bliss of a few weeks right and truly fucked him up.
And, late at night, when Blackbeard is tucked into the bed that only smells like him now, he still cries. Drags his hand across the well-worn corner of Stede's journal. He tossed most everything else, save this, and some clothing.
Blackbeard wears that blasted fuchsia floral dressing robe like armor, and he reads through this journal like it's a lifeboat. He knows every word by heart now, every curl and dip of Stede's elegant handwriting. There are smudged bits from the globs of salty tears that routinely drip down his face.
It is alright to cry, Stede would say.
Blackbeard thought it'd feel better if he did.
#
Stede stands there on the deck of what used to be his ship, face sunburned, and those damnable curls windswept and soft.
Blackbeard has imagined this time and time again, the inevitable meet-cute where he forces himself to be evil and foreboding. But he can't—he can't, not when he's faced with that crooked little smile. All of sudden, he is Ed again, his heart cracking with relief because Stede is there and alive. Rumpled and crumpled, and decidedly exhausted, but alive.
"You… What are you doing here?" Ed doesn't mean for it to sound so pained, so anguished. He's Blackbeard, for fuck's sake. Messy feelings are beneath him. And yet.
Stede's brow furrows. He hesitates—something that he so rarely does. And then he says, "I am often stupid. That night, though—at the docks I mean. Surely you remember."
Ed doesn't think he can ever forget the soft press of Stede's lips, and the simple utterance of, "You make Stede happy." Ed has never been told that before, never thought it possible, and this man before him said it with such insufferable delight that it nearly made him vomit.
This is what love is like, ugly and beautiful in one thousand different ways. Terrible, he thinks. Wonderful, he knows.
"Edward," continues Stede, his voice quiet and wary. "Ed, that was likely the worst choice of my life."
"We all make bad choices, you know. You make the bed that you lie in."
"I didn't know, though. At the time. I didn't know what I felt, or that it was—" Stede stops himself and sighs. "I went back to my wife."
Ed rolls his eyes with a dramatic flourish. "Of course you did. All that talk of a loveless marriage, and it took so little for you to run right back between her legs—"
"Where there was already another man, mind you." Stede says it a little frostily. Ed blinks at the unexpected turn. "But yes, I went back to fix things. Ed, you spoke of retiring together. Starting a new life on the other side of the world."
"And you said yes." The hurt in Ed's voice is like an open and raw wound. "You said that you would meet me there, at those docks, and we'd go together."
Stede swallows thickly. "I am good with words, but not the type that should be said. Or that has meaning. Ed—"
"Get t'the point before I toss you overboard."
"I felt as though I didn't deserve a life like that, no matter how much I wish for it." Stede's voice wavers despite the steady way that he carries himself. "And so I left. A coward's way out, of course. I went back home like a kicked dog, tail between my legs. It wasn't until my wife spoke of Doug that I realized that I loved you."
Ed nearly stops breathing. He chokes on the idea of it, his heart skipping several beats. He looks for a lie on Stede's face, but all that Ed sees is soft affection in the crinkles around Stede's eyes.
Before he can stop himself, Ed crosses the distance and pulls Stede close. All of those angry, unresolved emotions melt into something else, and he doesn't care if the crew is watching, or if it makes Izzy plot a mutiny later—Ed takes Stede's face between his hands and kisses him.
And this isn't like the other kiss, chaste and sweet, perfect for the soft moment that they shared on the beach. This one is an all-consuming thing as he tips Stede's face back and kisses him properly, the way that a man should kiss someone that he loves. The mashing of lips, and the clacking of their teeth as they try to find rhyme and rhythm, sinking into the feel of it all.
"You fool," says Ed against his mouth, his skin scratched by Stede's prickly scruff. He pulls back, still cradling Stede's face between his grimy hands. "God, you insufferable lunatic of a man."
Stede reaches forward to take his face into his hands as well, smiling. They just stand there as they hold each other and stare. The rest of the world is nothing but a port on the distant horizon, and they are anchored to the spot by each other.
"You haven't gone and killed too many men in my absence, have you?"
"I'm a bloody pirate," says Ed, but it sounds more like a joke, which is likely why Stede laughs.
He missed that sound. Ed drags Stede forward and he tips forward, pressing their foreheads together. His fingers curl against the back of Stede's neck, combing through the soft hair there. The thumb of his other hand drags over Stede's cheek.
"I thought you were too pansy to keep a beard."
Stede chuckles. "I'm a bloody pirate, you lout. But, if you must know—it's impossible to shave in a dinghy." He pauses, regarding Ed with affection. "Is it bad?"
"Absolutely not."
"Captain." It's Izzy, hissing in that quiet, cat-like way of his. He says nothing else when Ed lifts a finger, giving him a rather rude gesture to fuck off.
Stede lets go of him and steps back, smoothing a hand over the supple leather of Ed's shirt. "I know that my words do not change my actions," he says quietly, "But I came back for a chance at a parlay, at least."
"A parlay? Now you're just throwing out pirate-y words that you think you know." Stede's face turns at that. "Stede, I—"
"Captain."
This time Ed looks at him, and in a flash, his dagger is thrown, sinking deep into the mast beside Izzy's face. "Remember when I took your toe for less? Bugger off."
"Edward," says Stede, a quiet admonishment. "Perhaps this is better had in your quarters."
Edward nearly corrects him. Our quarters, he wants to stay, because he spent nights on that chaise lounge, sleeping to the soft trills of Stede's breathing. Instead, he just nods and holds a hand out. "I believe that you remember the way."
Stede snorts at that.
#
"Forgiveness isn't guaranteed," says Ed, finally.
The moment they locked themselves in his quarters, the tension thickened. Stede stands at the side of the room quietly, wrists locked behind him, and Ed paces the floor, words escaping him. It would be so easy to blame him for his anger and despair—
But it isn't just Stede's fault. Ed grew soft, the yellow-bellied sort of thing that ends pirates. He wonders if he should be more worried about it.
"A parlay is merely a negotiation of terms, is it not?"
Ed scoffs. "Is that what we're doing here? You rowed all this way in a fuckin' dinghy just to chat?"
"Of course not. But it is a start." Stede says it so easily, so clearly, so patiently.
Ed shoots him an indecipherable look. "You mentioned a Doug."
"Ah, yes, my wife's boyfriend." A pause. "Though, I'd wager to say she is my ex-wife now. She helped fake my death." Fake his what now? Ed feels the way that his brow furrows, which makes Stede laugh. "Ah, you see, I went back to my miserable life only to find resolution in it, I suppose. Mary was happier without me there. And the kids—God, you should have seen them. The only other time I've seen someone so full of life is when you and I—"
He stops himself and clears his throat. "Sorry, I got lost in the moment."
Ed wants to be happy that Stede has come back. He is, truly, but there is still a lot of anger, and unresolved fight left within him. He can't help but want to push back, unable to immediately give right in. "I waited, you know," he says. "I waited at that dock until the break of dawn."
"Chauncey," says Stede. Ed's head cocks to the side, waiting for him to continue. "I was startled awake with a gun to my face, and at first I didn't want to endanger you. He took me out to the blasted woods, tripped on his blasted gun, and shot himself in the damned face. 'Just my luck', I thought. Misery and misfortune follow me like I'm a lass at sea, and all I could think of…"
Stede sighs, dragging a hand down his face, wearily. It's a look on him that is so foreign that Ed almost feels unmoored.
"It was the hardest, worst choice that I've ever made, you know. Leaving you there. But I thought it was for the better. What is the adage? Something about hindsight?"
"I don't care for you frou-frou turns of phrase," snaps Ed. "You cannot just waltz back here and expect me to just be okay with it."
"Well, no. But I can hope for it."
Ed hates the way that his chest curls at just the thought of it. He thought his chance of happiness had long since sailed away, but here is Stede before him, flesh and blood, and safe.
"You said it was love," says Ed quietly. He has thought this, of course. He knows it, but he's never allowed himself to label it so clearly. He's Blackbeard, a pirate scourge, everything that he touches crumbles black underneath his fingertips, even the things that he tries to protect.
"Mary said that being with Doug was like breathing." Stede takes a step closer, a hesitant thing. Ed doesn't move away. "It was like that with us, right? It was easy, sharing laughter and thoughts, and just general comfort."
"Stede," murmurs Ed.
Stede reaches close, pressing his hand against the smooth line of Ed's neck. Ed reaches up and presses a hand against Stede's wrist, thumbing over the warm skin there.
"She called that love, Ed. And she is right. I love you—I've fallen in love with you."
Ed loves him too, of course. It's why he kept that damned dressing robe, and his journal, and pulled a half-drowned copy of Robinson Crusoe from the ocean before he could think better of it. He surges forward, kissing Stede again, licking into his mouth with all the need of a drowning man.
It is easy. Ed doesn't kiss other men, any sort of physical contact is for just the sake of that alone—a way to get off, to relieve tension and pressure. But with Stede it's about more than that. Ed wants to sink into just the feel of him, and the thought of it alone has his cock half-hard in his trousers.
"I don't know how to love," says Ed, lips lingering as they share breaths. "I've never—Stede, I don't know how to do this."
"Me either," says Stede. He combs gentle fingers through Ed's hair, and Ed groans at the touch. "We can figure it out together. Co-captain the entire thing."
Ed laughs at that and takes his mouth again. Stede responds eagerly, pulling him close, their crotches flush and—Oh. Stede is hard against him, and the friction of their erections dragging across each other is enough to make Ed nearly lose it right there. Like a damn teenager. In his pants.
He grips Stede by the hips and stills him. Stede whines softly, trying to chase the touch. "Bonnet," says Ed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his neck. Then a bite, nipping at the flesh there like a boy who's just discovered necking. What is wrong with him?
"Ed," says Stede, dragging his hand down the length of his back.
"What do you want?" Ed feels that way that Stede swallows thickly as he presses a kiss to that pretty throat.
"You. I've—I came back for you, not to be a pirate. I mean, that's fun, but my happiness his here, with—"
"Bonnet," Ed nips at the juncture where Stede's jaw meets his neck. "Stede," he says quieter. Then, he drops to his knees, rucking up Stede's linen blouse from his pants. "I've never seen you so dressed down, not even for bed."
"Well, silk, I've learned, isn't the wisest choice for the sea."
He talks too much; too many words, not enough action. Ed smooths a hand against Stede's soft stomach before dipping down further to press against the waistband of his trousers. "Shut it," he says, nuzzling at the bulge of Stede's cock where it strains.
"Oh, that's—"
"Do you want this?" Ed isn't the type to ask. Pirates just fuck each other, and that's that—but Stede deserves this, at least. "Let it be known that Blackbeard isn't the type to let others go."
"Do you think that I'm not the type to take what I want?"
Ed's gaze flickers up and sees that Stede is watching him with wide eyes. "You're soft," says Ed, "But in a way that I like. In a way that I crave. I want this, but do you?"
"Yes," says Stede, fingers dropping to his head, curling into Ed's hair. That's all that he needs before he undoes the fastenings of Stede's trousers, blindingly fast. "You are suspiciously good at that." Stede's tone is amused though, not jealous.
"Pirates have needs," mutters Ed.
"Oh? Needs? Like this?"
No, not like this. Nothing like this, thinks Ed. This is something deeper, more visceral. Sucking Stede off won't just satisfy a need, it's a want that settles deep in Ed's gut. He's dreamt of this, tugged himself off to the idea of it on the worst of nights.
Stede's cock slips out of his smalls, generous enough in its length, filling his palm delightfully. He smells like sweat and seawater, and something headier, something that's just him. Ed licks from the base of his cock to the tip, and Stede falls back against the wall that he's pressed against, his head thunking against the wood.
"Oh," he hisses, when Ed wraps his lips around him properly. Sucks him right down, and finishes off the length he can't reach with his hand. Ed loves it, the heft of Stede's cock against his tongue and throat, and those soft, aborted little thrusts as Stede tries not to buck into his mouth.
He's never done this before—surely not with the way that he acts. Ed knows nothing about Stede's loveless marriage, but there's little chance that Mary ever sullied her mouth like this. Delicious, he thinks. Wonderful.
This is an experience that they get to call their own.
Ed swallows the entire length of him down until the tip is at the back of his throat, and spit bubbles around the corners of his mouth. "Fuck," cries Stede, his voice raspy. He looses a punched moan and looks down at him. "Oh, Edward," he says, brushing back his bangs, touching him with a gentleness that Ed didn't know he craved.
Oh, what a look. Stede watches him through a half-lidded gaze, petting through his hair. Ed moans around him, working his tongue across the bottom of the shaft. He sucks him dry, as though he's trying to pull Stede's soul right through his dick.
And maybe he is. Ed is a man who likes to own the things he loves; Perhaps Stede will give right into the idea of it, staying by his side as previously promised. Ed wants to tattoo these feelings that surge in his heart right across his sleeve. He wants everyone to see it, to know that they only belong to each other.
Stede came back, not for piracy, but for him.
Ed pulls off and kisses the tip of his cock. "I don't get on my knees for anyone, y'know. Blackbeard isn't the type to bend to another."
Stede scratches across his scalp with a soothing touch. "But you'll bend for me?"
"Always," he says. And then— "Even if I'm angry. Even at my angriest, I'll still love you." Ed takes Stede's cock back into his mouth again, suckling at the length as he jerks the rest with his hand.
Stede's thighs tense and his hips buck, just barely. "You're darling, aren't you?" he says, and the praise sinks right into Ed's gut, settling there, stoking the fires of his pleasure.
Ed moans, which only spurs Stede on. He fucks into his mouth with a gentle roll of his hips, slipping Ed praise after praise as he brushes his bangs back. Ed could cry. Ed's cock is hard and aching, and it twitches with every kind word that Stede has for him.
He is unused to this; love, affection, and how sex can combine these things. Stede's cock stuffs his mouth full, and all that he can think about is the way that he'll look when he's underneath Ed properly. If he wants that. Ed will do anything for this man.
"Ed, I'm—Oh, that's… that's good. It can be this good? I had no idea—Nhng."
He's close. Ed can tell by the way his hips have lost their steady rhythm, to the way he pulls and yanks at his hair. He bobs across Stede's length, messily, drooling as spit collects in his mouth to make the glide easier. It's feral, in a way; but it is also tender and sweet.
Stede is right, Ed didn't know that it could feel this way.
He comes down Ed's throat with a cry, cocking twitching as he spends in his mouth. Stede looks sublime, blissed out as he moans dryly. Ed groans, pressing a hand against his own cock, getting whatever friction he can manage, as he watches and tastes his come, swallowing it like his good little darling.
Fuck, if that doesn't make matters worse.
Ed pulls off, kissing the tip of Stede's softening cock. Then the crease of his groin, and his balls underneath. Anything for a grounding touch to pull them both back to earth.
"Would—Oh, I think that I need to sit. Here, let me help you up." Ed grunts as Stede tugs at him, and his knees creak a little as he clambers to his feet. Stede cups his cheek and pulls him forward, kissing him sweetly. "Would you say that this parlay has worked?"
Ed laughs against his mouth. He wipes his hand and takes Stede's face between them. His forehead is cool against his own. "Yes, though my tactics of negotiation were a little different for this round."
"I would hope so," says Stede, teasing. He pulls him close, sliding a hand down his side. "Oh, you're—"
"Mhm, yeah. Tends to happen when I'm all hot and bothered."
Stede's brow raises. "Over me?"
"Is there anyone else here?"
They are not terribly romantic, but they do fall into the bed as a regular couple would. There are wandering hands, and the divesting of clothing. Ed has never been one to take it slow, but this…
"What's with that look?" asks Stede as he leans over him, fully naked, a hand pressed to Ed's sternum.
"You came back." He says it quietly. It was a dream, one that Ed isn't quite ready to believe.
Stede's gaze softens at that and he leans forward to kiss his temple. "One of my smarter decisions." He pauses, and they just watch each other, eager in the moment. "Should these negotiations continue? For the sake of a good alliance?"
"Stede, just touch me already. I'm tired of buggerin' my own hand."
Stede laughs and then drags himself lower, and Ed gets lost in this dream of his, no longer drowning in his sorrows.