Chapter Text
“Did you have a good morning surf?” Stede asks, half an hour into the drive back to the city the next ay. He’s sure he’s managed to keep his voice completely normal, but Alma, scrunched into the passenger seat in a configuration that shouldn’t be possible for the human skeleton, just grins that slow-spreading grin as she stares at him.
“Yeah.”
“Lovely.” He drags his eyes back to the road, paying very careful attention, flexing his hands on the steering wheel. “And did Ed?”
Alma’s biting her lip when he glances back again, and he can feel himself starting to blush as she reads him like a book.
“He was great.” All the sly humour gradually eases out of her voice as she gives him some mercy. “I didn’t believe all the negative shit the papers said, but I didn’t expect him to be this cool, either.”
There’s a little shimmery glow of happiness that’s taken up residence inside Stede now, and it flutters again, a murmuration of rainbow prisms swarming up around his heart in big looping swirls. “He really is, isn’t he?”
“Not like, cool cool. He’s a dork.”
“Oh.”
“That’s affectionate.”
“Good.” She knows he needs that little bit more context, and also, he doesn’t want to have to end his friendship with his own daughter, which he might just have to otherwise. That part is a joke, just for the inside of his head. Definitely a joke. Anyhoo! “But… not-cool cool?”
“Just… chill. Like, that man is the most famous person any of us have or likely ever will meet, and he’s just some guy.”
Stede would beg to differ there, but he does take her point. Ed is not Blackbeard, or not only that. Ed is incredible, but in a very ordinary, not at all superhuman way. Although his beauty probably could be described as otherworldly—
“Anyway, it was nice having a surf, shooting the breeze, you know.” She jiggles her knee, just the barest hint of anxiety in it. “He says I’m good.”
“He’s right about that.” Stede might not know anything about surfing, but he knows everything about Alma, and she is good. “You’re great, in fact.”
“He makes me think I can maybe make it somewhere.” She’s always wanted it, but always had that tiny niggle of self doubt embedded in her that’s been hard to shake.
Louis is sitting in the back, head bent over his switch, headphones in, focussed intensely on the current task. The road’s clear of traffic, everyone having headed home yesterday, Stede having opted to give the kids an extra day off so they didn’t have to rush their day yesterday. He’d had no idea when they planned this just what a beautiful day it was going to be, or what a beautiful evening.
Stede is resolutely not going to think about that until he’s on his way back, kid free.
“I’m glad,” Stede tells her. “He makes me feel that way, too.”
The smirk is back in an instant. “I bet he does.”
“Alma,” he says, pained. “God, please.”
“Sneaking off to the sand dunes to k-i-s-s.” She’s grinning wider as his blush climbs back up his cheeks, giving him away, though thank god, non-specifically. “It’s cute."
“It’s—”
“None of my business, I know, I know.” She tilts her head to rest against the window, staring up at the pale blue of the winter sky, all clear after the weekend’s rain. “I think I should get to be best person at your wedding, since I practically introduced you.”
“Alma,” he groans. “That’s a very large bridge too far.”
“Okay,” she says smugly. “Sure it is.”
It’s not a long drive, but Christ, it feels like one in the end. They chat back and forth about safer topics, but it does keep wandering back to Ed, and to Cloudburst, and to Stede’s plans, and to his father and just what on earth he can do there.
Maybe he should go see the man.
“Maybe the fuck not,” Mary says, when he mentions that to her an hour later. The kids are unpacking in their rooms, and she’s handed him a big mug of his favourite chai, and she’s already extracted all the details out of him with the efficiency of a surgeon. “You go see him, he’ll find out about the house, and then all the hard work will be for nothing.”
Stede wrinkles his nose. “Not for nothing.”
“No, but you’ll lose that place! Just when you’ve found Ed!”
Stede is absolutely confident he could find another place in Cloudburst, but he takes her point. He doesn’t want another place. He wants their place, and he’s going to keep it. “I just can’t help but think he’s going to find out anyway. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder all the time.”
“He’s never given two actual fucks about that town. I’m sure it’s going to be fine.” She grins, giving him absolutely no respite from the same gentle teasing he’s suffered from Alma all weekend. “Besides, there’s the two of you now.”
~
Ed wakes up in his own bed, disoriented after a rare post-surfing nap, and for a second it feels like an ordinary day. And then he sits bolt upright, covers clutched to his chest, because holy shit. Today is the day.
He checks the clock, and finds he’s slept right through to nine; to be fair, he was up at five with Alma and he’s only been back to sleep for a couple of hours, but he’d like to think that shows there’s some kind of healing going on in his brain, letting himself rest when he needs it.
That, or he’s getting lazy.
He knows Arch has the shop under control today, so he hops out of bed to prove he’s very much not a slacker. Much to do here before Stede gets home again, because he’s on the road, taking the kids back to their mum, and Ed’s got actual hours to go before he can see the guy again.
He showered after his surf, sure, but that was more for the sand removal factor, and now he’s got time to take it slower. He heads into the bathroom, turns the water on nice and warm and slips under the flow, pondering whether it’s too late to get back in bed and sleep away the remaining hours, but… yeah, no, that’s not going to do it, there’s stuff he’s got to finish.
He rests a hand against the tiles as the hot water pours over him, and contemplates his dick. He could save this up for when Stede gets back, when they’re in that bed, in that house, and they’ve got it all to themselves. He’s almost shaking with anticipation, and the truth is, if Stede gets his hands on Ed like this, he’ll shoot off in under ten seconds, and he wants it to last.
So, he allows himself the quick wank he’d gotten halfway through last night, closing his eyes as he jerks himself off, thinking about Stede and his wide eyes and his mouth falling open at the sight of Ed. Thinks about getting Stede on his knees, feeding him his cock. Ed would be a patient teacher, let him take his time learning to suck, pulling back a little when he gags, pushing back in again until he—
He comes with a grunt, barely even a glimmer of the way into this fantasy of all the things he wants to do with Stede.
Thank fuck they’ve got time, right?
They’ve got time. There’s a niggling little fear in the back of his head that asks what happens if Stede gets cold feet and fucks off, but hey. Worst case scenario, Ed can finally go steal his fucking house for himself, right? He’s sure that’s exactly what he needs to make him happy.
He also knows he’s a liar, and a goner.
He washes his hair carefully. Puts in his conditioner, rinses it out, gets himself all scrubbed and primped and preened and ready to lay himself completely bare to the man he--well, shit, there's not much stepping around it anymore, is there? The man he loves, who he didn’t even have in his life two days ago, what the fuck?
This whole thing is a headspin.
When he’s out of the shower, all dried and dressed, he taps his mobile screen on the way out of the bedroom by sheer force of habit, and comes to a hard stop. Takes a step back, scoops it up and opens the message notification, reads more carefully.
Plonks himself down on the bed, grinning, and reckons that choice in the shower was the right one by a mile. The messages are from ten minutes ago, so he hopes Stede’s still there. Whether or not he is, there’s a little undercurrent of panic that’s cute.
S: Can I ask for some advice?
S: It’s just that I’m hoping to take my boyfriend on a proper date later
S: And also hoping it might lead to more
S: But
Ed bites his lip and tries not to make a noise out loud. He’s full of giddy joy and it’s been so, so many years since he felt this, since he let himself feel it, and this amount of it all at once is brand new.
He feels like a teenager, falling in love for the first time. It feels all at the same time like something he’s never done before, and also something he’s been hanging onto all his life.
E: But?
S: Oh thank god, I need some decision-making help
The next thing that zings through is a pic of a supermarket shelf, and Ed has to squint for a second before he realises what it is.
“Lunatic,” he says out loud, because only Stede.
E: Congrats, looks like you found the pregnancy tests?
There’s a long pause, and then Stede’s messages come tumbling through.
S: No!
S: Not the thing
S: Tsts not
E: Hey hey just teasing
He rubs a hand over his mouth, trying to stay cool, because there’s a fuckton of condom packets in that pic.
E: You needed some advice?
S: I don’t want to presume
S: But I wondered if you had a favourite type
S: That my boyfriend might also enjoy
S: Whether giving or receiving
For all of three seconds Ed entertains the possibility that Stede’s not actually talking about him, and that he’s run into someone he likes better dropping the kids back home.
But no, he might be a fool in love. He’s not an idiot, though.
E: Dunno, depends on whether your boyfriend likes the same things as me
S: Oh?
E: Yeah, like
He swallows, flexes his fingers. This is crossing a whole new line, right? But it was Stede who sent him a photo of eighty types of condom and asked what his boyfriend might like. Giving or receiving, Jesus Christ.
E: I mean, when I’m wearing one it’s gotta be large. Learned that the hard way through years of assuming the regular size really was one for all.
Stede knows that. Stede’s seen his cock at full mast last night, of all the fucking things. He hasn’t seen Stede’s, though. There’s silence on the end, but Ed’s already rolling uncontrolled down the steep hill of whatever this is, so fuck it.
E: Also, I like an ultra thin so I can really feel it, you know? Don’t mind a little ribbing or whatever. Don’t love a minty fresh candy cane up my ass, so none of that cooling shit. Do love a good thick lube tho.
There’s another few seconds of bouncing dots, Ed biting his fist, before Stede just sends back a single emoji.
S: 🫡
Ed snorts. He can just see Stede doing a little salute like that, face all serious and determined. Thinks maybe Stede should do that exact little gesture when he’s standing naked at the end of Ed’s bed, and then he has to say, “Fuck,” because the thought alone might kill him even before Stede consigns him to the afterlife with whatever he’s packing in those dad slacks.
When he’s all dressed, he hops in his car and heads up the road, out of town and inland, weaving between fields of wheat and canola, all of it green right now, growing rampant in the winter rain. It takes a solid half an hour to get into the bigger town where the council office is located, but it’s a nice day for a drive, and he sings at the top of his lungs as he goes, a song that feels like it was written about them.
But every year it gets a little bit harder
To get back to the feeling of when we were fifteen
And we could jump in the river upstream
And let the current carry us to the beginning where
The river met the sea again
And all our days were a sun-drenched haze
While the salt spray crusted on the window panes—
He’s in such a good mood. Best fucking mood.
Last thing he needs is to wander through the door, and bump smack into Chauncey Badminton, but apparently that’s what the universe decided to serve up today.
“Fuck,” Ed says, disentangling himself.
“Watch yourself,” Chauncey says sharply, brushing down the front of his suit, and then the sneer intensifies. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Yeah, it’s me, and that’s Mayor Teach to you.”
He scoffs. “Only until the next election.”
And sure, maybe Ed will get voted out there, but he doesn’t give a flying fuck. All he wants between now and then is to make Chauncey’s life as hard as possible. “Guess I’ll see you on Wednesday, before we get to that.”
Chauncey’s stare goes hard. “The proposal will pass.”
“Finally bought off enough people, did you?”
There’s a glimmer of irritation that makes him think maybe he wasn’t that far off the mark. Chauncey’s an elected councillor and a lawyer at Stede’s father’s company and he’s got conflicts of interest coming out his ears, but he also thinks he’s above all that, and it shows in his smugness. “A pass is a pass.”
Ed shrugs. “Even a pass is up for review if it gets enough objection.”
There’s red creeping up his neck, and the guy should really think about having a chat with his doctor about that sometime. “What’s the point of going around in circles like this? You know it’ll get through eventually. May as well start benefitting the community, your community now.”
“Thought it was yours, too, wasn’t it?” Chauncey doesn’t live anywhere near here; just owns a property where he can get the mail delivered in his name. Ed leans in close, nice and menacing. “Or, not benefitting anyone but the city bigwigs. How’s your old mate Bonnet doing these days, anyway?” There’s a hot little spark in his chest at the shit Stede’s told him about the Badmintons and the way they teased him as a kid; the way they’re still fucking with the stuff that matters to him.
Unfortunately, the look on Chauncey’s face takes a turn toward something much more interested. “I forgot, apparently we have some connections in common there. A little birdie told me you’ve been spending time with his son.”
None of Ed’s friends would’ve told him that. None of Stede’s, either. None of Ed’s regulars. He wonders who the snitch was, watching the two of them over the last couple of days, knowing it’d be worth something to Chauncey. There’s a little trill of danger in the back of his mind, but Ed shoves past it. “Great guy. Impossible to believe they’re even related.”
“Oh, perhaps we’ve finally found something we agree on.” Chauncey’s smile is cold. “I suppose he just fluttered through town with his nasty little brats—”
Ed’s got him by the front of his fancy dress shirt before he registers moving, shoving him back against the nearest wall. He can do a deadly cold stare, too. “Don’t.”
He’d expected spluttering rage from Chauncey, but the laugh he gets is so much worse. “Incredible. You really do care about him.”
“I do,” Ed says, tossing his cards on the metaphorical table left and right, not able to stop himself. “He’s going to be here a long time and he’s with me, so you can leave him the fuck alone.”
“With you!” Chauncey twists a bit. “Or what?”
Fuck, there are so many things Ed wants to say in reply, but he’s not going to get drawn into something Chauncey can hold over him. “Or nothing,” Ed says. Lets him go, smooths down his shirt, gives him a none too gentle pat on the shoulder. “Wasn’t a question.”
He turns and stomps away before Chauncey can get a last word in. It’s only when he’s in his office, pressing his shaking hands to his desk, that it occurs to him maybe he should be worried that there was no reply.
Thankfully, his phone buzzes in his pocket at that exact moment, and he drags it out. Feels like a year ago that he was riffing back and forth with Stede, giddy as a teenager.
Stede, to his eternal gratitude, is still in that space instead of whatever the fuck this one is.
S: So I was thinking
S: Wait, maybe I shouldn’t tell you what I was thinking, if I want to lure you in 🧐
Ed’s eyes are watering with unshed laughter, that’s definitely the thing that’s making him tear up.
E: Already got me hook line and sinker, mate. Mystery’s in the wind now.
Stede answers so fast his dots don’t even get time to bounce first.
S: Great!
S: So I was thinking
S: Do you want to come over to mine?
Ed stares at the message, admittedly a little dumbfounded. There’s a trick he’s missing here and he knows it.
E: Yeah? Might be nice.
S: It’s just that my dad’s not home
S: I could make us dinner
S: We could rent a VHS, I hear there’s a great shop in town.
Oh. Oh, shit, okay, wait, that’s what they’re doing. They’re doing let’s time travel back to 1992 right now and pretend we’re still those guys we were when we missed each other the first time.
He must take a second too long staring into space, thinking about exactly what kind of fucking lunatic he’s hooked himself here, and how incredibly into it he is, because his phone buzzes again.
S: And maybe I could kiss you
Buzz.
S: And maybe we could do more
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
S: Only if you want to
S: No rush
S: Y/N
Ed scrunches his whole face in laughter because he fucking loves this man with every fibre of his being.
There’s only one answer. There’s only ever been one answer, and there only ever will be.
E: Y
~
Well. Stede’s gone and done it now, hasn’t he? He’s invited his boyfriend over to a house that’s all theirs, for a night that belongs to just the two of them, no interruptions. And he feels about sixteen again, overflowing with nerves as he hustles around the house, tidying this and that (his sixteen-year-old self probably wouldn’t have given it quite this much effort), changing the sheets (he thinks he might have thought that one through, though), restocking the firewood (warmth, always), dithering.
By the later afternoon he’s run out of tasks to distract himself from the thought of Ed in this living room (naked), in the bedroom (naked, moaning), in the shower (pressed up against the tiles while Stede—), and he has to get out.
He takes himself for a truly meandering walk. Down to the sandbar first, where he finds that the water has cut through properly again, just like Ed told him it would. He stands for a good hour absolutely mesmerised by the churning flow of the water through the now-narrowed breach. Up close, the force of it is extraordinary, even when the stream doesn't look huge; on the river side, the surface looks smooth, but where it cuts through the sand, the tea-coloured water is pushing so hard out to sea that it’s leaping in rolling, evenly spaced curls, each of them filled with the glittering spectres of the sand it’s carving through. In the space of the time he stands there, only the gulls and a couple of extremely nosy pelicans for company, it widens again from a little stream he could have leapt over, to a channel at least a couple of metres wide.
Ebb and flow, all at the mercy of the tides, the rainfall upriver, the specific angles that water strikes as it rolls through, no saying what form it will take on any given day, or when it will end, or whether it'll start again this year. It’s utterly fascinating, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen the raw power of nature in such a visceral and immediate form before. It makes him feel small in the most wonderful possible way.
He reluctantly drags himself away when his legs are getting stiff, and heads back up the hill to continue his walk. The town has one road that winds along the river and then skirts the ocean on the other side; it terminates up at the brick lighthouse that’s shaped, rather curiously, like a pepper grinder. Within town itself, though, there’s a haphazard spill of streets skating out from the riverside, the caravan park and Ed’s store, where he’s not working today (Stede knows; he’s been in twice. The second time Archie actually rolled her eyes at him, called him ‘bruh’ in about the exact tone Alma would have used, and told him that wishing wouldn’t make Ed appear any faster). Ed’s not even in town (Stede’s not pouting), which Lucius tells him when Stede wanders past his house, pretending the whole time that he can’t see his father’s old monstrosity of a mansion one street behind it.
“No, he’s at the council office in Gingin today,” Lucius says, leaning on his front fence with an iced coffee dangling from one hand. “Doing mayor things, when he’s not, you know.” Lucius’s eyes gleam as they track down Stede’s body and back up, one brow waggling. “Doing other things.”
Stede purses his lips. “If you must know, I’m planning a very wholesome date tonight.”
“Oh, I bet there’s going to be a lot of hole involved,” Lucius says, positively gleeful. “You can thank me for helping you steal that house and netting the man of your dreams in the process later.”
“Thank you now,” Stede says. “And also, mind your own business!”
“As if.” Lucius takes a long sip from his coffee, and the manic pixie energy dips a bit. “Seriously though, how’s it all going? How are you feeling? And I don’t just mean whether you can, you know. Sit straight.”
“Ask me tomorrow,” Stede says, the thrill of it undeniable, and Lucius whoops so loudly that it echoes off down the hill toward the river. “No! Don’t ask me tomorrow. It’s going excellently.”
“And you don’t think your father’s going to ruin it all?” Lucius grimaces. “There are some pretty decent odds that proposal’s going to succeed on Wednesday.”
“I hope it won’t,” Stede says, because he’d heard barely anything about it until he got here, but is already vehemently opposed. “But if it does, I’ll be there for Ed while he deals with it.”
“And your father will be there on the other side to make things worse.” Lucius wrinkles his nose. “If he found out about the house he could make it a lot worse.”
Oh, Stede knows, all too well. He’s been trying to ignore the buzzing worry to chase a bit of whimsy with his boyfriend. “We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find out, won’t we? Not going to borrow that worry before it happens.”
Lucius crosses his fingers supportively, while managing to look wholly sceptical about the possibility of them avoiding disaster.
“Anyhoo, I’m off to… do things.”
“Mmhmm.” Lucius taps the fence a couple of times. “Say hi to Ed for me.”
He wanders on down the road, definitely not secretly pleased at how impressed Lucius seems to be with him. He’s out! He’s proud! He’s doing things! He’s having Ed over for a wholesome date, and yes, holes are on the table, no! Not on the table, no, fuck, this is definitely getting away from him—
He comes to a sharp halt outside an unassuming house that’s got garden growing in around it from all sides, just a bright hand-painted sign out the front that’s caught his eye.
“Well, hello there.”
Inside, Antiques, Oddities and All is very much more of a house than a shop, just one that’s absolutely full to the rafters with the aforementioned antiques and oddities. And also goats, and the occasional chicken? Stede’s turning a baffled circle in the front room. The door was open, he wandered in, and he’s caught between wondering if he’s meant to be there at all, and going down in his knees to examine a piece of furniture, when a woman pops out from an unseen door and spots him.
“Oh, hello.”
He looks up at her, momentarily stunned out of all the other questions he might have asked. “Is this a Louis the Fifteenth gilt wood console?”
“You have an excellent eye.” She sashays across, ample bosom spilling over the top of a tightly laced corset, her gaze making him feel somewhat hunted as she extends her hand. “Anne Bonny, collector.”
He shakes. “Stede Bonnet, lover of beauty.”
She hoots. “You’re Eddie’s new man, aren’t you?”
He’s not sure what gave that away, but he’ll take it. He inclines his head. “I believe you could say we’re together, yes.”
“He’s got a good eye, too.” She hasn’t actually let go of his hand yet. “What can I do for you today?”
He’d wandered in on a complete whim, no specific designs in mind, but somehow he thinks that saying he’s just there for a look might not end well for him. In order to avoid being pounced on, he racks his brains and, seized with inspiration, says, “I’m looking for a bowl. Something suitable for an… avian transmogrification ceremony.”
Anne, to her credit, doesn’t bat an eyelid. Just nods to the back of the room. “Might want to have a little rustle around back there, see if anything jumps out and grabs you.”
“Thank you!” he says, and she finally releases him.
“You and Eddie should come around for dinner one night,” she says, with the tone of a threat, and he nods.
“Of course! That’d be lovely.”
“Take whatever you like,” she says, with a wave of her hand. “We’ll sort it later.”
It feels a bit illicit to be roaming through her collection with the intent of shoplifting a piece, but he has permission, so. Off he goes, grateful at least that she’s vanished, no more advances to be made.
He briefly ponders the chances of him getting that console down the hill, then rules that out and refocusses. There actually are quite a lot of bowls stacked up in the back of the shop, and it’s difficult to say exactly what he’s looking for, but…
He’d thought it would probably be harder to choose, except that suddenly, the perfect bowl is sitting right in front of him. It’s a deep mixing bowl in a light green, embossed all over with charming little sea creatures. He doesn’t know why he knows, but he knows. This is it.
He heads back out with the bowl under his arm, and—bless the distances in this town being so minimal—is wandering into the country club with it ten minutes later.
“Fuck off,” Izzy says from behind the bar, but there’s less bite in it than yesterday, which is probably a win.
“Gladly,” Stede says. “Just on my way to see Buttons.”
He breezes on through the club like he belongs there, which—that’s a funny feeling. He supposes he will now, for the first time in his life. There’s an endless run of Friday nights stretching ahead of him in which Ed tends the bar and Stede… maybe Stede sits and watches him, heart eyes on high beam.
Or maybe he hops behind the bar, too. Maybe they joke all evening, bumping hips as they mix up increasingly random cocktails and riff themselves into sillier and sillier stories. Aliens seeking to understand human life. Maybe they are the cocktails, tangy and zangy. Or no, that’s too esoteric. Perhaps cocktail expert spies posing as country club barmen, for some reason. He imagines that any idea he throws Ed’s way will likely bounce back shinier and more fun, no matter what it is.
He’s grateful to happen across Buttons standing near motionless in the bush beside the third hole, saving him quite a lot of walking.
“Ah! Mr. Buttons, I was hoping to spot you.” Like a rare bird tucked between the branches, he is. He proffers the bowl. “I wondered if this might be suitable for your, well. Intentions.”
He carries it over, and Buttons inspects it very seriously, hands still clasped behind his back. And then, like it’s part of an ancient ceremony, he reaches out and slides it from Stede’s grip. “Aye, this’ll do nicely, thank you.”
They stand there in slightly awkward silence for a few moments more. “And what exactly does an… avian transmogrification ceremony entail?” Stede asks at last.
Buttons clicks his tongue and tilts his head. “There’s the burning of the sage. The incantations, several. Must be the right moment, by the light of a full moon, in the right place, surrounded by nature and the scent of the sea.”
Just as they are here, now, with a stiff breeze whipping over the river and up the hill. “It sounds fascinating. I wish you luck.” He’s not going to ask if Buttons truly believes a man can become a bird, because it seems a rhetorical question at this point. But he has been thinking about it, turning it over in his head, an idea percolating with every sketch in his notebook.
It’s perhaps crystallised a little more today, the first day here where he hasn’t paid an ounce of attention to a single bird, just trusted in their existence, nor has he drawn anything, but… the panic of that, the gripping fear that he might lose that capacity again, has eased.
Because today he’s soaring, free.
Today he’s living his inspiration, and while he’s waiting to see Ed tonight, he’s been out in the world, filled ever more full of the joy of living. He doesn’t need to be setting pencil to paper to know that the creative energy is crackling in his veins again.
There’s no denying it. He’s a changing man.
And maybe Buttons holds the key.
Stede can only ask. “Would you… would you mind, terribly, if I used the inspiration for a story I’d like to write? Not actually about you, of course, just about the, the concept of a man becoming a bird. Of… change.”
The sort of change that might see a person grow wings and learn to fly, after so many years chained to earth.
“‘Course not,” Buttons says, with a sharp nod. “Stories belong in the world.”
Stede feels it, as he walks back along the golf course. That glimmer, that fizz, that tiny spark of excitement deep in his belly that tells him this is an idea that’s got legs, or wings, or what have you. Something that’s going to capture his imagination and let it take to the sky, flying through a story that will mean something both to him, and to anyone else who needs to read it.
He can’t wait to get started, but then again… he thinks he’s already halfway there.
~
So, Ed might’ve lost his mind a little bit. Maybe. It’s just that Stede got him with the whole let’s watch a movie on VHS thing. It was so fucking endearing, and Ed’s been thinking all day about the past, and what it would’ve been like, teenagers from different worlds brought together in one creaky old house, and…
Ed’s a yes-and kind of guy. He’s all in.
He’s maybe going to freeze to death before he gets to do anything about it.
He knocks on Stede’s door, trying to contain the chattering of his teeth, praying that the guy won’t leave him to wait long. And thank fuck, Stede has no chill either (Ed’s got enough chill for the both of them, for everyone on the planet right now), because he slings the door open five seconds later.
“Hey,” Ed says, throwing one forearm up against the door frame, slouching a little, giving Stede the waggling eyebrows. “Mum’s not around. You wanna hang out?”
Worth it, all of this, because Stede’s jaw drops comically far, and he really looks for a hot second like a guy who just got smacked in the face with a plank.
Ed considered all of his old surfing gear for this task. Truth be told, most of what he wore when he was a grommet around here in the olden days of the 90s was long denim shorts and big baggy jumpers, same as everyone else. Would’ve been fine in this weather. But on occasion he’d get a little more dressed to slay, and this is that.
Tiny purple mesh tank that only covers his tits, if you can call these threads cover. Nothing else on top, so Stede can get the best possible look at his arms, his tattoos. Baggy jeans slung as low as they can go on his hips without falling off completely, and he thanks his genes for the peach of an ass that’s holding them up. Combat boots haphazardly laced, all the better to kick them off and dive into bed with his boyfriend.
“Jesus Christ,” Stede whispers. And then he seems to register the way Ed’s shivering, and snaps his jaw shut again. “Edward, my god, come inside right now.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he says, real casual, and lets Stede shove open the door and drag him over the threshold.
“What is this?” Stede demands, not letting go of him, just hustling him around the couch and in front of the roaring fire, pushing him down onto the rug closest to the warmth, and Ed could maybe just let Stede manhandle him everywhere for the foreseeable future and die happy.
“Wanted to get into the spirit of the thing,” Ed says. “‘Cos, you know. The 90s.”
“The 90s,” Stede repeats, gaze sliding over him, getting increasingly hot and heavy as it goes. “Wait there.”
And then he’s dashing off into the house, and Ed’s left to sit like a cat on a hearth, already missing him.
He’s back a second later brandishing—oh. “Fuck, I had one just like that. Totally used to wear it with this.” It’s a heavy flannel shirt, black and white checked all over, and Stede goes down on his knees and slides it around his shoulders. It’s got the faint scent of age to it, like something that’s been hanging in a closet for a long time, but it smells like Stede, too, and he slides his arms in gratefully.
“Should’ve kept it for this ensemble,” Stede says, with that little hint of bitchiness Ed loves.
“You don’t like it?” Ed asks, pouting, giving him the big eyes.
Stede just reaches out and runs a finger from his collarbone down to the hard pebble of his nipple, where the black bar is gleaming. “I don’t think I should say what I think about this out loud. I like it a little too much.”
Ed grins, smug. “Thought you would.”
He catches himself belatedly, realises they’re totally not living their 90s lives yet, and clears his throat. “So your dad’s not home?”
Stede grins. Sits back, shakes his head. “He’s never home. I’ve got the house to myself all night.”
There’s that thrill of excitement that’s had Ed on edge all day, desperate, even. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Boys’ night, then?”
Stede’s grin gets even wider. “Sounds fab.”
Now that Ed’s definitely not about to die of hypothermia, Stede pushes himself off the floor and offers a hand, which Ed takes, lets himself get pulled up. All of a sudden this is heart-poundingly, really real and happening, fuck. “Just the two of us,” Ed says, wondering if there are any good reasons left not to go down on his knees and suck Stede’s dick right now.
“Mm-hmm,” Stede says, a little pitchy and nervous, and right, yeah. That reason. Stede’s really, really new to this, and Ed’s nervous, too, and okay! Back to the 90s they go.
“I made dinner,” Stede says. “I’ve never been great at doing that for myself, but I do have a few tried and true tricks up my sleeve!”
Woof, there’s a little punch to Ed’s heart, thinking about a teen Stede here trying to survive. He reaches out and gets hold of Stede’s hand, pulls him in, and wraps him up in a hug. Stede’s stiff with surprise for a second, and then he melts into it.
“What was that for?” he asks, muffled against Ed’s neck.
“I just appreciate you, man,” Ed says, giving him a couple of final back pats before he lets go. “What’d you make?”
“An old Stede Bonnet classic, conjured up many times in this house.” He tows Ed around the couch and into the kitchen, where there’s a vintage electric frypan on the counter with the lid steamed up and rattling, and a rice cooker up the other end. “Sweet and sour chicken!”
When he lifts the lid, Ed nearly groans with how good it smells. “Fuck, my mum used to make that for me.”
“Yeah?”
Ed nods. Nothing brings back memories like smell, or like food, and he’s gut-punched again by the thought of how much his mum would’ve really fucking liked Stede. Has to divert the feeling before it can take him out. “You were making this from scratch when you were like, fifteen?”
Stede’s cheeks pink up a little more. “Ah. No, from a jar, and also… still from a jar.” He bites his lip, looks up through his lashes like he’s in trouble. “I did put extra pineapple in it, though—”
Ed backs him up against the counter and kisses him. He lets out a little squeak of surprise, but then a second later he throws his arms around Ed’s neck and kisses back. Almost refuses to let go when Ed tries to break away.
“Fuckin’ love an extra bit of pineapple,” Ed says, like that’s any explanation for the amount of fondness that’s pouring out of him right now. “Already the best night ever.”
“Hmm,” Stede says, eyes shining. “We should try to keep that going, then.”
It’s a pretty good night. Actually exactly the kind of night Ed only ever had when his dad wasn’t around, and they always felt like a breather, a treat. Curled up on the couch together, a warm bowl of too-sweet chicken and veg and rice in hand, they talk about the hard shit. Ed tells Stede about his mum. Stede tells Ed about his old mate Jeffrey something or other, who’s a fancy lawyer now, who always used to ask for an invitation up here but Stede was always too embarrassed to let him come.
“It’s only now I’ve realised that maybe Jeffrey knew me better than I knew myself,” he says, almost apologetic about it. “He’s always known he was gay, and I simply wasn’t ready to work that out.”
“Got there when you were meant to,” Ed says warmly. Right in time to meet him.
Ed’s not gonna be jealous of Jeffrey when poor fucking Jeffrey never stood the chance he clearly wanted with Stede.
An hour later, dinner’s done, they’ve polished off bowls of vanilla ice-cream with hard-setting chocolate Ice Magic all over it, and Ed’s got his legs hooked over Stede’s lap while Wayne’s World—apparently Stede not only hunted up an actual honest-to-god VHS player, but researched which movies came out in 1992 and found a copy of one somewhere—plays ignored in the background.
Stede’s looking at Ed, eyes dark in the dim glow of the TV, all the other lights switched off. Ed does a big stretch, letting his pants slip down a few notches and his tiny tank ride up a few more under the wide open flannel. The motion of Stede’s thumb over his ankle-bone gets satisfyingly out of rhythm, and then he runs his other hand over the top of Ed’s thigh, and Ed wiggles closer.
“Um,” Stede says, and then he laughs nervously. “God, I don’t think I’m even pretending I’m sixteen here, I think I’m just that bloody nervous. I don’t know what to do.”
Ed shuffles up onto his elbows, fixes Stede with the sultriest look he can. “Good thing I’m here, huh?”
Stede laughs again, more like a gasping breath that’s getting away from him. “Would you have guided me back then? Shown me the way?”
Oh, shit. He pulls his feet off Stede’s lap and sits up, one leg still tucked under him as he slides in close enough to brush that escaping curl of hair off Stede’s forehead and look him in the eye. “Dunno. What do you want to learn?”
Stede bites his lip. “Everything?”
Ed wants to teach him. Ed wants to pull him apart like a jigsaw puzzle, pour all the tiny pieces of him into a pile and then put him back together again. He lets his thumb drift over Stede’s cheekbone, being so slow and patient, more patient than he’s ever been in his life. “So, Stede Bonnet. You ever kissed a guy?”
He’s already kissed Ed, several times over. He’s kissed a bunch of other guys who were too unimportant to be this guy here right now, Ed knows that, too.
But here caught between space and time, Stede shakes his head, eyes big. “No. I didn’t know I could—”
Ed leans in with all the brash confidence he had when he was young and hot and full of hormones, and mashes their mouths together with absolutely zero finesse.
Stede lets out a broken kind of moan as he opens his mouth and lets Ed in, and Ed, well. Maybe Ed’s channelling himself from all those years ago, or maybe he’s just himself now, full of want and love, but after three minutes of truly pashing on he’s climbing onto Stede’s lap, and fuck.
Stede’s hands are roaming everywhere, looping around his waist, holding tight to his hips as Ed grinds down against him, trailing up his bare stomach until they find his nipples through the mesh.
“When—when did you get these?” Stede asks, fingering the nipple bars, making Ed writhe even more at the bright bursts of sensation.
“Oh, fuck, I reckon—twenty, maybe? When I was twenty? Went to a comp in Los Angeles, last of the year. Got ‘em done there when I could take a break for a couple of months, thought they looked cool, then nearly went insane not being allowed in the water.”
“Not authentic to the costume, then, hmm?” Stede says, and he’s totally joking. Really clear that he’s joking.
But Ed dips in and kisses him again, feeling his stubble, breathing in his pineapple-sweetness, letting himself feel these strong hands on his hips again, rocking down against Stede’s hardness with his own. “Neither’s the beard, mate.” All silver now, no black left in it. He grazes his thumb over the wrinkles beside Stede’s eye, along the dusting of silver in the gold of his cute little sideburns. “Authentic to right now, though, so…”
Stede understands, because so far, Stede always has. Maybe they’ll have to talk more about their shit in future, but right now, they get each other, and he nods. “Ed,” he says, real serious. Long pause. And then, “I actually don’t know what I’m doing anyway.”
Ed thunks their foreheads together and laughs, still rocking up against him as Stede keeps the same rhythm. “Let your body take over,” he says, and he slips a hand slowly down between them to cup the generous bulge in Stede’s trousers. “You know what you want.”
He nods, staring down between them. “I want you. However you want things, anything, I just—I don’t—I don’t want to feel like we’re running out of time, like we have to do it all now.”
Ed sits up at that, both hands on Stede’s shoulders. “We’re not running out of time, right?”
“No,” Stede says vehemently. “No, we’re absolutely not, it’d—it’d just be easy to feel like that, rush it all. But I also don’t want to hold back on anything, either, because Christ, I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?”
“We have.” Ed dips in and kisses him again, relieved. “Really fucking have. You can have anything you want. Right now. Anything. Don’t need to earn it. Not gonna run out of sex. Got all the sex you could want right here.”
He punctuates that with another rock of his hips, and Stede laughs wildly, shifts against him, chasing more friction, and Ed’s weirdly proud of the guy.
“Right,” Stede says, like he’s made his decision. “Right, well. If there’s an unlimited supply, then…” He’s nudging Ed off his lap a second later, pushing him down to sit on the couch, but only to slide down to his knees on the floor, looking up at Ed through his lashes. “I don’t mean to keep dragging up the past, it’s just—”
“Hard not to think about it, I know.” Stede’s so broad that he’s pushing Ed’s thighs apart just kneeling between them. Ed reaches out to cup his cheek, and tries to pretend his fingers aren’t shaking. “We’re both of those guys, right? Us then, all caught up inside us. Didn’t leave ‘em behind, brought ‘em with.”
Stede nods, and reaches out a thumb to run it down the zipper of Ed’s jeans, pressing firmly over the bulge, making Ed choke in his next breath. “Same guys.” He looks up again. “All of me wants to get my mouth on you.”
Ed tries not to whine as he reaches for his buttons, only to have Stede slap his hand away and go after those himself. All Ed can do is sling his hands out to grip the back of the couch as Stede yanks his fly open impatiently and lets out a rough moan when he discovers that Ed’s not wearing underwear.
“Seriously?”
Ed wiggles his hips a little. “Authentic, right? My balls never met a pair of jocks in the 90s.”
When Stede looks up at him next, his eyes are even darker. “And now?”
Ed lets his hands slide up behind his head, real casual. “Sounds like something you’ve gotta find out, mate. Never know.”
He slips his fingers into the waistband of Ed’s jeans and yanks them down, and Ed lifts his hips to help out. Sitting here on this old couch with his cock out and Stede staring at it has him feeling twenty again for real.
“I think I can manage that,” Stede says, and reaches out to touch him.
He groans as Stede’s hand closes around his cock, fingers soft, grip absolutely the fuck not. “Fuuuuck, how disappointed are you gonna be if I come all over your face in the next three seconds and that’s it?”
Stede arches a brow as he leans in closer. “I did say anything, Edward.” He strokes his thumb softly up Ed’s shaft, tugs the foreskin back down on the reverse. “Besides, then we’ll just find out how you want to get me off.”
And before Ed can give a smart reply, Stede gets that determined glint in his eye and darts forward, taking the head of Ed’s cock into his mouth.
Ed’s hand flies down and his fingers slip into Stede’s hair, making him moan. He doesn’t pull away, though. Nope, he goes to town down there, sliding onto Ed’s cock and back off again, the look in his eyes getting wilder with every inch he takes.
“Okay,” Ed pants maybe twenty seconds in, easing him gently back. “Okay, okay, fuck, that’s—I just need a minute.”
Stede sits back, bumps into the coffee table. His mouth’s pink and slick with spit, eyes dark, hair standing up. “Bedroom. Take a minute and come meet me in the bedroom, where I will… also be taking a minute.”
He manages to struggle up off the floor, pats Ed’s knee gently on the way past, and then almost runs for the bedroom, which leaves Ed chuckling. That, and hitching his hips into thin air, trying to forget the heat of Stede’s mouth on him.
He didn’t get into sex until after they were done with this place, so he’s never messed around with someone else here, but there were definitely days where his mum was working and his horny teenaged self sat on this very couch and rubbed one out, probably thinking about Jon Bon Jovi or something.
Fuck, maybe Stede was sitting right here doing the same thing in the other half of the year. The ghosts of the past can’t help but buzz around them, their past selves kaleidoscoping into the present, and all of a sudden Ed needs to not be alone out here. He heaves himself up off the couch, holding his jeans up with one hand as he makes a beeline for the bedroom.
Closes the door behind him, too. Shuts all those ghosts outside, locks he and Stede together in here, where it was always safe.
Stede’s standing beside the window, one hand pressed to the frame, half bent over as he breathes—wait, kinda fast.
“You okay?” Ed forgets all his own worries as he goes across, and Stede looks up at him with a weak smile.
“Completely fine, yes.”
His eyes are a little red, and Ed arches a brow. “Have you been crying?”
“No,” Stede says immediately. “No, absolutely not, it might have been the wind? An owl?” They stare at each other for another minute, until Stede bites his lip. “A little bit. Maybe.”
“Stede,” Ed says, voice scratchy in his throat. “C’mon, man, sit down, talk to me.”
He does come across, when Ed sits on the end of the bed, and he lets Ed pull him down and get an arm around his shoulders and squeeze him, until his breath is calm again, not so shuddery.
“I just missed out on so much,” Stede says. “I wasted so many years—”
Nope, Ed wants to say. Wants to remind him that all that shit they’ve been through brought them right here, to this moment, to a perfect future together. He doesn’t, though, because he gets it.
“Can’t do anything about those years,” he says instead, squeezing Stede tighter. “But we’ve got right now, yeah? We get to start here.”
“Just the start,” Stede says softly, his hand finding a home on Ed’s thigh. “The first night of the rest of our lives.”
Ed nods, and reaches up to tilt Stede’s chin his way. The kiss is soft this time, an exhalation, but it’s not long before it starts to get heated again, and—cautiously, slowly—Ed pulls Stede back to lie on the bed.
“You thought about how you want this bit to go?” he asks, as Stede’s hand roves up under the mesh of his shirt, sending goosebumps skittering all over.
Stede nods, forehead bumping against Ed’s chin, because he’s still looking down at Ed’s body as he runs those careful touches across Ed’s pecs, finds his nipples again.
“I want,” he says, and breaks off, thumb rubbing a little circle that sends a jolt of want through Ed. “I want to start big. We’ve earned it.” And before Ed can explode into a cloud of horny ideas about that, he tips his head back and meets Ed’s eye. “I want you to fuck me.”
Straight into it, that’s the lunatic he knows and loves. He cups Stede’s chin again and kisses him deep, balancing on the razor edge between gentle, treating him like he’s delicate, and hungry, because they both are. He feels those same surges in Stede, the desperate animal desire to claim and take and merge themselves together.
“Fucking great,” Ed murmurs against his lips. “Where’s your fancy new lube?”
Stede kisses him through a burst of laughter. “I thought maybe I’d take my pants off first.”
“Great plan, love that.” Ed struggles to get his arm out from under Stede so he can sit up. “Yeah, mate, you’re definitely wearing too much, gotta fix that.”
He heroically manages to do it nice and slow, peeling Stede out of his sweater and his shirt, kissing until the moment the fabric hits his chin, there and ready to keep kissing as soon as it’s over his head. Stede’s so warm, and so broad, and so sensitive to every single touch. He lets Ed map out his freckles and greet his nipples like old friends. His belly shakes as Ed kisses his way down, pulls his belt through, gets his trousers down without tearing them off; like he said, heroic.
Finally, finally, Stede’s naked in the bed he already thinks of as theirs, watching Ed down the length of his body with tousled hair and dark eyes, and oh, yeah. That’s Stede’s cock straining against his belly, all thick and pink and perfect, and Ed has to take a second and clench his fists to stop himself diving in there right away.
Stede looks nervous, yeah, but so is Ed as he shimmies his stupid jeans off his hips and lets them drop. Peels off the flannel and the mesh as well, so they’re both bare.
“Come here,” Stede croaks, gesturing with both hands. “Please, I need—”
Ed’s crawling over him a second later, naked skin meeting naked skin everywhere, until he’s almost glowing with the feeling of learning Stede by touch. He drags Ed in roughly and kisses him, pushes him back, swings that leg over again and goes up on top.
Both hands splayed out on Ed’s chest, breathing hard. “Like this, I think. To start with. If that’s okay with you.”
“If that’s okay with me,” Ed repeats, thumbs finding the softest skin at Stede’s hips, mouth watering at the sight of his perfect dick. He looks up at Stede. “Best idea I’ve heard all week.”
Stede gives his pink-cheeked little huff of a slightly embarrassed laugh again, but he’s leaning over to the bedside table a second later to grab the supplies, looking determined.
“Right, then. Show me.”
With a captain voice like that, Ed can’t say anything but, “Yes, sir, right away, sir.”
He takes it nice and slow, getting everything slicked up, finding his way inside Stede with fingers first, watching his face as he hovers over Ed. Noisy as a flock of cockatoos, every touch making him sing. He closes his eyes and breathes through the first finger, mouth hanging open, but by the time Ed’s three deep, he’s rocking back onto them, gaze blazing hot as he whines.
“I think I’m ready.”
“Reckon you are, too,” Ed says. He tilts his head to the condom box. “You wanna do the honours?”
Stede pulls out an extra large, ultra thin condom—paid good attention, he did—and gets it situated, rolling it onto Ed the way a private chef would probably decorate the most expensive dish at a fancy restaurant, or something. He holds Ed’s dick for a few seconds, admiring it, before he reaches for the lube and squirts out a bunch more.
“There,” he says, all satisfied as he wriggles back up and positions himself. “I think that should be enough to—fuck!”
Ed pauses, with the greatest patience he’s ever used in his life, only the head of his cock being clutched in the welcoming warmth of Stede’s body. “Okay?”
“Oh, god,” Stede says, panting. He swallows, nods. “It’s good. It’s very good. Keep going, that’s—”
He presses himself down, and Ed pushes up to meet him, and the moan that tears out of Stede is pornographic. “Ed!” he cries, rocking himself back erratically like he’s lost all control. “Oh, fuck—”
“That’s it,” Ed murmurs, holding Stede’s hips steady, trying like hell to control himself while he’s at it, as Stede sinks all the way down. “Just like that, yeah.”
Stede’s broad chest is right there, all flushed pink, hair swirled into dark little twists with sweat, and his eyes are scrunched closed, and his teeth are endearingly crooked, and Ed’s gotta keep focussing on the little stuff here before he blows his load in seconds.
Freckles. Scars. Lines around his eyes, thirty years of detail sketched all over him, the prettiest picture Ed’s ever seen.
“Jesus,” Stede whimpers, trying to crane his head to look down between them. “I can feel you inside me, that’s—”
“You can move,” Ed says, trying to make it sound like a suggestion instead of a plea, and Stede tries a couple of cautious rolls of his hips, dragging himself slowly up, pressing himself back down.
Ed can feel every inch of drag, and he knows Stede can, too, the way his eyes are glazing over. His cock bobs between them as he plants his hand hard on Ed’s sternum and, trying to twist far enough to see the point where they’re joined, begins to ride him for real.
“Oh, shit,” Ed murmurs, entranced. He’s maybe never seen someone so consumed by lust in his life, the way Stede’s scrambling to feel Ed’s cock pushing into him, trying to control the rhythm, touching himself, gasping, wild-eyed—
“I need you to drive,” Stede says abruptly, sliding off so fast that Ed has to grab for the condom. “Please.”
He rolls over and flops back into the pillows, arranging himself all pretty, and Ed swipes up the lube and gives himself the world’s sternest three-word pep talk. Be fucking patient.
He’s all out of patience. This time he gets himself all wrapped up in the arms of a hot boyfriend as he lines himself up and pushes back inside, and being this close to Stede means he can hear twice as many little noises. He kisses them out of Stede’s mouth as he fucks him nice and slow, concentrating on how good he feels.
Doesn’t take long before they’re almost blurring together, Stede rocking with every thrust, trying to pull him in even more.
He moans again as Ed snaps deeper, like Ed could fucking move in there if he tried hard enough, and that’s it for what sanity he’s got left. Ed’s losing his mind as he scrambles for better traction in the sheets, shunts Stede up into the pillows as he thrusts hard now, and Stede flings an arm up to grab at the wall, fingers splayed across the plasterboard. He’s crying, tears rolling down his cheeks, but he’s laughing, too, and Ed’s right there with him.
“So good,” he growls. “So. Fucking. Good, fuck—”
He doesn’t even get a chance to warn Stede before he tips over the edge and comes hard, folded over, forehead pressed tight to Stede’s shoulder. Stede’s got a hand in his hair, cradling him as he shakes apart, murmuring in his ear.
He gets about a minute to breathe, pressed against Stede’s sweaty chest, and then Stede starts to push impatiently at him.
“Shit, sorry, let me just—”
He grips the condom as he eases out of Stede, and looks up again as quick as he can, concerned. But Stede’s reaching for him, grabbing for his shoulder, pushing him… down?
“Please,” he says, sounding desperate. “I need your mouth next.”
A new flood of heat rushes through him as Stede squirms under him, his cock still achingly hard, and Ed swallows. “Fuck, Stede, that’s—yeah, I can do that, hold on.”
He leans across and snatches up the lube, manages to squeeze out a good squirt with shaking hands, and then he shuffles down and gets one of Stede’s thighs hooked over his shoulder while he finds his way back in there, pushes two fingers inside, making Stede cry out again. He doesn’t keep the guy waiting. Squirms up enough to get that glorious cock in his mouth and swallows him down, and Stede almost screams.
No surprise, it’s all over in about three thrusts of his fingers, three drags of his mouth over Stede’s length, Stede clenching so tight around him that Ed can’t even move as Stede pulses down his throat.
Ed’s fully shaky when he manages to disentangle himself, only enough strength left to drag his body up the bed and collapse next to Stede, landing sloppy kisses on his cheek, his slack mouth.
“We did that,” Stede says breathlessly, still wriggling. “Oh, god, I already want more. I only want to do that forever. Do you think anyone would miss you if I just… kept you in my bed?”
He asks that like he’s asking if Ed’s got any milk in store. “Might do,” he says, making a real effort not to bite the guy, affectionately. “Might not, maybe we should find out.”
Stede sighs, all exaggerated. “I suppose we might need some breaks. Could fit in some actual work here or there.”
The kind of work that’s needed to save this place from Stede’s awful father, yeah.
The kind of work that’s going to fuel Stede’s spirit, give him back the joy he’s been missing. Ed can see it shining in his eyes, written all over his beautiful face.
“You make me happy,” he says, suddenly hoarse. It's I love you in so many words, really, and Stede seems to get it.
He touches Ed's cheek softly, eyes soft. “You make me happy, too.”
What more could anyone want?
They take a couple of grumbling minutes to clean up, do the bathroom shuffle, before they’re back in bed and dozing off, curled together naked under the sheets. All the barriers down, all the history blended into the present, nothing missing from his life anymore. It's all been worth the wait.