in the waves of change [part II]
Can stand alone, and also be found on AO3. [part I]
Stede's second visit to Spanish Jackie's establishment turns out to be much more enjoyable than his first. And not only because Stede remembers to ask for a drink with spirits that haven't been used to ferment people's noses.
They’ve only recently achieved a raid with zero—zero!—fatalities on either side, which had nevertheless been bloody and lucrative enough to satisfy the crew. And allow them a few days of respite in the Republic of Pirates.
A tremendous success all around!
The crew is scattered around the tavern, drinking and laughing, while Stede is flitting between tables, too giddy himself to stay put for too long. Even Ed seems to be having fun, absorbed as he is in a game Stede doesn’t recognise with some of the other patrons, which appears to involve dice, knives and what Stede suspects might be part of a snake skeleton.
He’s undoubtedly relieving everyone around him of their hard earned—or, much more likely, their hard fought for—gold, although Stede is too happy and tipsy to be bothered by the possible consequences of scorned pirates right at the moment.
The general mood takes another turn for the merrier when Frenchie hops up on the bar with his lute at the ready.
Cheers ring out from the gathered crowd, and Lucius shouts, "Yes!" as he drags a definitely very drunk Black Pete to the centre of the room.
The tune Frenchie strikes up is something quick and jaunty, that soon has a good dozen people join in on the rambunctious dancing. Stede watches, chest swelling with warm fondness, as Jim fails to hide their pleased smile when Oluwande offers them a hand, and can’t help but laugh at the sight of Lucius twirling Black Pete around wildly until he stumbles over his own feet.
“No grace, no sense of tact!” Lucius mock-scolds through his breathless chuckles as he pushes Black Pete back towards a chair. He presses a smacking kiss to the top of Black Pete’s head before he whirls around, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and crooks a finger at Stede. “Oh Captain, my Captain!”
Stede shakes his head no, still grinning like a loon, but is soundly ignored. Lucius is a surprisingly skilled dancer, as it turns out, and Oluwande certainly makes up with enthusiasm for what he lacks in finesse. Stede indulges his crew for a while, not that it is any sort of hardship with the ale flowing freely, and surrounded by the people he’s come to consider family.
He can’t help but seek out Ed at that thought, who’s still at the gamblers’ table, though he’s looking right back at Stede. He’s wearing that expression Stede’s seen on him a few times before, when he can’t quite seem to puzzle Stede out and is intrigued by the challenge.
When Stede wiggles his fingers at him, Ed ducks his head, but not before Stede catches the beginnings of a smile.
At one point, when partners are changed again, Stede finds himself opposite a young woman, who appears to be equally as startled as him to suddenly be faced with a stranger. After a moment, she casually shrugs a shoulder, and holds her hand out to Stede, one brow arched in silent question.
They dance for two songs, during which Stede learns that her name is Hilda, and she lives on the island with her husband, a blacksmith and serial foot-trampler. When Frenchie announces that he’ll be taking a short rest to catch his breath, Hilda steps back from Stede with a wink and a giggled, “Thank you for giving my poor feet a rest tonight!”
“Cap,” Lucius says as he approaches, Black Pete hanging sleepily off his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says, sincerely, then rolls his eyes when Black Pete begins to snore. “I think I better get this one back to the ship.”
“I think that would be best,” Stede agrees, gaze automatically seeking out Ed again, who is—not where Stede’s last seen him, actually. He scans the rest of the tavern, but, alas, no Ed in sight.
Lucius is watching Stede knowingly. “He left a bit ago.”
“Oh.” Stede frowns. “Well, that’s all right.” He gestures at Black Pete’s slack form. “Shall we?”
They get Black Pete back to the Revenge with his arms slung over their shoulders, and deposit him in his and Lucius' makeshift bed up on deck. They whisper their goodbyes, mindful of the sleeping people around them, before Stede silently slips away to go check in on Ed.
He finds him on the balcony off the Captain’s quarters, in only his breeches and one of Stede’s robes, looking out over the open sea. Stede joins him quietly, standing close enough for their shoulders to brush, hands only a little ways apart on the railing.
Before Stede can think of how to break the silence, Ed surprises him by doing it for him,
“Did you fuck that girl?”
Stede’s heart clenches painfully.
Still, there is absolutely no hesitation to his answer. “No.”
Ed is studying him intently, his usually expressive—at least to Stede—face entirely unreadable. “Did you want to?”
Stede shakes his head. “No, Ed.”
Ed nods, mostly to himself, but some of the previous, almost invisible tension leaves his back. “Don’t you miss it? Them? Women, I mean?”
“Not particularly, no,” Stede says, truthfully. Then, because he’s curious now, and also mildly worried that this conversation might be taking a turn he won’t like very much, he asks, “Do you?”
All Ed does is shake his own head, however. “Nah. Can’t really miss what you’ve never known, can you?”
“You—oh!” Stede isn’t entirely surprised, though he is somewhat taken aback by the—confession? Voluntary insight into Ed’s private past? “That’s—I mean, that’s all right, of course!”
His stammering elicits a brief bark of a laugh from Ed. “Thanks, mate.”
“Oh, sod off,” Stede chuckles, bumping their shoulders together more firmly. Then, figuring he should probably offer up something of himself as well, in return, he says quietly, “Don’t misunderstand me, I very much like sharing someone’s bed. Though I find it much more pleasable if the person I’m sharing it with is someone I care for.”
To ensure his point has been made, he nudges his hand along the railing until he can press his pinky finger against Ed’s. Ed is the one to link them together.
“You know,” Stede muses, a brilliant idea forming rapidly, “it really is a shame you left early.”
Ed raises his eyebrows at him. “Oh?”
Stede hums. “Hmm. Didn’t even get the chance to dance with you, did I?”
“I don’t dance,” Ed immediately insists, but he comes readily when Stede tugs him in by their clasped hands, until they’re chest to chest. Protesting weakly, he says,“There’s no music.”
“The ocean doesn’t sound like music to you?” Stede teases softly, hooking his chin over Ed’s shoulder, hands coming to rest lightly on the small of his back. “Because it does to me.”
After a moment, Ed curls his arms around Stede, holding him tightly. He turns his face into Stede’s neck to murmur, “Suppose it does, yeah.”
The sweetest of music, Stede thinks to himself, as they gently sway together.
