Fine Things Suit You Well
Ed gets into Stede’s clothes again. The one thing he couldn't bring himself to throw out, the terribly, horribly, deliciously, Stede scented linens. Shirts made of egyptian cotton, jackets made of the finest leather he had ever felt, sweaters of pure sheep's wool, silk dressing gowns- he couldn't throw it away, not if he tried. Because as much as he hated that idiotic, beautiful man, he couldnt get it out of his head. You wear fine things well. Stede had looked at a man who had been nothing but cruel, nothing but wild and unkempt his entire life, and he had tucked a silk cravat into his breast pocket and told him he wears fine things well.
It's love. He was more certain of it than he had ever been of anything after he lost him, when the pain that had struck through his chest like a bolt of pure fire was worse than any maiming. He's sure of it when he wraps himself up in Stede’s robe at night, the wine colored one with flowers and birds embroidered carefully over it. He's sure when he crawls up into the nook that was Stede’s bed, when he curls into himself like a child and cries. Not silent tears, not a gentle rolling of saltwater down stubbled cheeks, but like a dam breaking. Heavy, wet sobs that shake his frame with each gasping inhale, that lit a fire inside aching lungs desperate for oxygen that wasn't coming. Sobs that were borderline screams, fingers white knuckled with his grip on the sides of the silk robe he didn't deserve to wear. Because he didn’t deserve fine things, including Stede, and that was even clearer now. He had been left behind again, not as Blackbeard, no that he could handle, but as Ed. He heaves another sob, rolling to shove his face halfway into a pillow, and somehow that makes it worse. It smelled like the orange marmalade Stede had for breakfast every morning, and that god damned Lavender soap that he had stores and stores of inside his closet. It's too much, too much Stede, and Ed’s heart breaks all over again. He falls asleep when he has no more tears left to give, when his sobs are quieted to pitiful wheezes in his chest. And he dreams.
He dreams of a field of lavender. Stede is there, and he smiles at him, brighter than the sun. “I was waiting for you, darling,” Stede says, pulling Ed into a kiss that tasted of honey and marmalade, And for a moment, Ed lets it happen. But he was the one left waiting, like an idiot, and as he feels his dagger in the palm of his hand, thrusts it into his soft underbelly, feels the gasp of blood into his mouth he feels satisfied. Feels the anger inside him die at the gurgle of blood from Stede’s lips, and when he looks into his eyes, expecting to feel content, all he feels is pain. Because Stede looks disappointed.
He wakes to the sound of yelling, of Frenchie slamming open his door breathlessly. “Ed!- I mean Blackbeard, uh- captain sir- the Captain- Stede’s back!” he gasped out, mouth gaping like a fish. Ed barely had time to process before his body was moving on its own, not bothering with boots as he grabbed his sword, face dark as he shoved Frenchie out of the way. Stede had the gall- the fucking nerve- to come back? He was going to kill him. Was going to cut his belly and watch the guts of that coward spill onto the deck.
But none of that happened, because the second he saw Stede, he felt his heart crumble. No matter how bad he tried to summon up his anger, to stoke the fire in his belly so he could stab this idiot, he couldn't. Especially not when Stede, suntanned and with a stubble, freckles dotted over strong arms and soft cheeks, breathed his name like it was a prayer. “Ed.” Said with such reverence he felt like he was going to buckle. He barely managed to hold his glare as Izzy shoved Steed forward, and he held his sword out so the end touched the man's belly, bottom lip trembling with anger and heartbreak. And he could do nothing but stare as Stede opened his mouth, rushing to apologize, to explain himself, to quell the look of despair in Edwards' eyes desperately.
Could only listen as Stede’s words caught around how Chauncey had dragged him to the woods at gunpoint that night, had told him he ruined beautiful things- “I ruined you, Ed”- how he had brought the world's greatest pirate down to nothing. His blood boiled, chest aching as stede stepped closer despite the sword biting into his skin, eyes glassy as he continued. Telling Ed how he had gone back to Mary, convinced Ed was better off without him, only to find that his family was no longer his. To find that his children had a new father, his wife a new beau, that they were thriving in his absence. Of how Mary tried to kill him in the night, how he realized he loved Ed desperately, how he had faked his death- Ed couldn't help but be proud at hearing the details- how he had been searching for Ed for weeks. How he had been living out of a rowboat, been chasing whispers and rumors of a Kraken sailing the seas, wreaking havoc. How he would have died at sea before he gave up searching, because he didn't deserve Ed- and then he was grabbing his arm, throwing his sword down as he pulled Stede down to the captains quarters with him. Once the door had slammed, a sob bubbled from his lips pitifully, and he shoved Stede down onto the remnants of his bed. “I was going to kill you. Was-was gonna run you through and watch you bleed, but you just have to be such a damned gentleman don't you?” His lip trembled as he settled in Stede’s lap, letting soft lips and calloused hands hold onto him, to hold him closer like he was the one who had left, like he was going to fall apart if Stede didnt hold him tight enough. And when this stupid, beautiful man pushed his hips down, swallowing his sobs with a kiss full of love, he all but fell into him. Let the scent of Lavender and salt swallow him whole, let his mouth be devoured entirely. And as Stede again rocked them together steadily, like the swaying of the ocean, that stupidly soft mouth whispering to him “Fine things still suit you, Edward,” he couldnt help himself. Blackbeard, the Kraken of the high seas, rutting against this beautiful man like a teenager in a closet with their first crush. Kissing him deeply, tasting of the orange marmalade he couldn't bring himself to stop eating, the only comfort he allowed himself, forced their bodies closer- stuttered as that delicious friction hit his delirious brain just right- and he gasped against stede’s mouth, ruining the gown he had stolen from stede’s closet. He had came in his pants like a teenager, and he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed when Stede was holding him close and wiping his tears, laying them side by side on the bed. All he could feel was warmth as he locked his arms around the beautiful man next to him, not feeling that ache of loneliness for the first time in months. And after hours of talking, as he watched Stede fall asleep, as he brushed a golden curl out of his face, he let himself think Maybe I do deserve fine things. I've got the finest thing of them all right here with me.
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