Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stede watches the ship disappear into the distance, a little worse for wear but ultimately still standing.

“Why did we abandon?” he asks Ed, who shrugs with considerable effort.

“Dunno, mate.” He suddenly winces, one hand to his wound. “Feel like shit, though. Help me sit down somewhere.”

Stede takes his arm and leads him to a crate he can lean back against. “Are your bandages holding? I’m sure I tied them correctly, but all that moving — that I advised you against, by the way — couldn’t have helped much.” He peers down at Ed’s torso, still uncovered by shirt. “You didn’t start bleeding as far as I can tell, so that’s good.”

Ed stares at him, wide-eyed. “Wait— did you patch me up?”

“Kind of? I mean, recently, yes, it was me.”

“Did you just become a surgeon while I was out?”

“…sort of?”

“Stede. Stede. You strange little man.” Ed grins at him and grabs his collar, bringing their lips together gently. “Had the weirdest dream I’ll have to tell ya about.”

“Ah, would that be why you were talking to a puddle before we left?”

“Yeah.”

“I will admit I was a bit concerned about that. Was it—”

Someone clears their throat, and they both turn to see the crew gathered around them with varying levels of bewilderment on their faces.

“You’re not dead,” Jim notes first.

“Don’t think so, no,” Stede responds.

“Why not?”

“Washed up on an island.”

“You were just on a ship.”

“We got attacked, as it were. He got shot.” He motions to Ed’s bandages.

“You patch him up?”

“Yes. I did.”

“Good.” Jim jerks their head towards somewhere behind the crew, and everyone parts. “‘Cause Izzy’s got a splinter.”

“I’m not so sure a splinter requires— oh. Oh. That kind of splinter.”

Izzy is fucking fuming at Roach spinning him around to showcase the sizeable piece of wood jutting from his back, just to the left of his spine.

“Knives won’t do much here,” Roach lets Stede know pleasantly. “He won’t let me chop him off right above this.” He pokes right around Izzy’s shoulder blades and Izzy smacks his hand away, then immediately winces. “See? Stubborn.”

“Oh dear. I… I don't have any experience with this.”

Ed claps Stede on the shoulder. “You patched me up, mate. You got this.”

“It's really not—” Stede apprehensively takes a step forward. “Well… I'll try, I suppose. Izzy, if you could lay down on your stomach for me?”

“Rather die,” Izzy grunts out, immediately followed by the entire crew going “Hey now…” Izzy sighs and holds his hands up in… surrender? “Where?” he grits out instead.

Stede and Ed exchange a glance before Stede clears his throat awkwardly. “Um, I doubt you can make it below deck to the cots so right here is fine.”

Izzy looks at the wooden deck, closes his eyes a second in what looks like are you fucking kidding me, and with a bit of help, lays face-down on the deck.

“Okay, good work, Israel.”

Izzy turns his head to sneer in disgust. “What the fuck.”

“Sorry! Got used to it, I suppose.” Stede kneels down and straddles Izzy’s ass, and Izzy immediately tries to find his knife to stab him.

“Get the fuck off of me!”

“I have to brace you somehow!” Stede holds his shoulders down with a firm hand. “Listen, I will tell you what I’m about to do before I do it, alright?”

Izzy lets out a distinct breath, then nods once. “Fine. Fine.”

“You… are doing remarkably well,” Stede notes, slowly easing up. “I’m going to ask for a dagger to cut this shirt so I may see the extent of the damage.”

Someone — Stede doesn’t see who — hands him a dagger, and he works it through the leather to the piece of ship, peeling the clothes away.

“Good. You’re doing good, Israel.”

“Please stop with the full name thing.”

“Ambroise— did you say please?”

Izzy presses his forehead to the deck. “Let me die, actually.” He groans and accepts his fate. “Who the hell is Ambroise?”

“The surgeon who taught me. Best in the world.” Stede examines the wound. “I don’t think this went very deep. I should be able to pull it out just fine.”

Someone snorts in their audience, and Izzy flips them off mildly. “Shut the hell up, Lucius.”

Ed’s eyes snap up, wide, and no one but Stede seems to notice.

“Come on,” Lucius teases, “I’ve said pretty much the exact same thing to you.”

“Lucius!”

“Oh, congratulations!” Stede announces, eyes bright. “See, Ed? I told you he was fine.”

There’s suddenly tense silence, then, “Are you going to throw me overboard again?”

Ed shakes his head no numbly.

“Better not. I get a lick in, by the way. Just not right now.”

Ed nods.

“Isra— Izzy,” Stede brings the attention back. “I’m going to pull this out on the count of three. Are you ready?”

“Guess so.”

“Three.” Stede pulls the wood out in one firm tug, and Izzy bites out a yell, but then it’s out and Stede can start ordering people to bring him clean linens to bind it with. “Lift your hips, please.”

“Oh my god.” Izzy buries his face in his hands. “Fuckin' hate this.”

“Izzy,” Lucius says, kneeling beside him, “lift your hips.”

Izzy does as he's told and looks like he'd, quite frankly, rather the cannon have hit him directly.

“You are doing so good,” the Swede says encouragingly.

“Can everyone please fuck off?” Izzy yells, banging his forehead against the deck in humiliating agony.

There are disgruntled murmurs, but everyone meanders off to do something at least apparently productive.

Everyone, that is, except Lucius and Pete, who sit down beside Izzy and watch Stede raptly.

“Is that gonna scar?” Pete asks as Stede bandages the wound firmly.

“I’d imagine so,” Stede responds.

“Pretty badass.”

“I’ll have to sketch you anew,” Lucius agrees merrily, his worry only betrayed by a thumb brushing over Izzy’s hand. He looks up at Stede and Edward. “So. What the fuck happened? Jim said you both fell.”

“Well—” they both say.

They pause, then Ed decides, “I’ll tell it. You’ve got your hands full.”

Stede nods and continues wrapping, careful not to further injure Izzy.

“So ah…” Ed’s fingers are tented against his lips. “Well… fell isn’t the word I would use, really.  I mean, Stede fell, y’know, ‘cause he was bein’ an idiot and all—”

“I resent that,” Stede teases back.

“I said it nice! Besides, it’s true, you were.” Ed shakes his head. “He was latchin’ down crates in a goddamn squall.”

“Ah, crates, huh?” Lucius says, nodding like he suddenly understands a lot more than he should. “Got it. Go on.”

“Well I went out, to yell at him, y’know, and then before I knew it he had toppled overboard.”

“Oh wow,” Pete says, eyes wide. “And then you fell overboard too, huh?”

“Nah, I uh— I jumped.” Ed furrows his brow. “Didn’t even think about it, really. Saw Stede fall and just— knew I had to go, too.”

“Kill me now,” Izzy grunts, covering his ears.

“Oh my god is that a wedding ring?” Lucius gushes, causing Izzy to suddenly try to crane his head back to see, resulting in a pained cry from him and a scolding word from Stede.

“Uh, yeah, yeah it is. Kinda got shot mid-ceremony.”

“Before it, really,” Stede interjects. “We never even got to the vows. I rounded the side of the island and the navy was already there.”

“You stalled them for forever, mate. I had time to put like, flowers in my hair ‘n’ shit.”

“Not on purpose.” Stede gives him a wince. “I didn’t intend for you to get caught up in it, too. They just asked my name and I panicked.”

Ed chuckles. “What did you say? Stede Teach?”

Lucius and Pete aww as Izzy contemplates throwing up and just drowning in it.

“Well,” Stede ties off the bandage, any excuse to look away, “I was thinking about you, of course, and our lives together, and how the whole wedding would have gone if we’d been married on a ship and… I said my name was Israel Hands.”

“You what?” Izzy snaps, and Stede finally gets off of him. “You stole my fuckin’ identity?!”

“Sort of?” Stede gives him a sheepish smile as Pete helps Izzy into a sitting position. “Ambroise knew I wasn’t you, but he kept calling me Israel to keep up the illusion. You spark a lot of terror in people, you know.”

“Great,” Izzy grumbles, “now I’ve got new legends about me. Let me guess: they’re going to be talking about how I sew pretty capes and decorate cakes?”

Ed shrugs before Stede can respond. “Prob’ly be talkin’ ‘bout how ya brought Blackbeard back from the dead and escaped a prison cell with nothin’ more than half a bale of hay.”

“And two rapiers,” Stede adds.

“And two rapiers that appeared out of nowhere.” He raises an eyebrow. “Not bad legends to have, mate.”

Izzy studies Ed. “You died?”

“Yeah. For a minute there.” He looks out across the deck. “Where’s the captain now? I want to lay in the quarters.”

Izzy sighs. “Go ahead. And take this ponce with you.”

Lucius leans in and whispers something in Izzy’s ear as Stede stands up and brushes himself off.

“Oh, actually,” Pete begins, “could— wait, is it still captain? Is it Captain Stede or just Stede? Or is it Bonnet? Or Gentleman Pirate?”

“Um.” Stede thinks a moment. “Stede is fine.”

“Okay, then, Stede, if you could actually sort of come to the crew’s quarters, a few of us got a little hurt in the takeover. Nothing major, just could use a doctor to confirm that it’s… nothing major.”

Stede looks back at Ed, who gives him a reassuring smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Go,” Ed whispers, “and come to me when you’re done.”

“Always will,” Stede whispers back, and then Pete is hauling him away.

Ed leaves Lucius and Izzy to their… debating and walks slowly to the quarters. His wound hurts something awful, and he’s ready to just collapse against a surface.

But more than that… he’s dizzy as fuck.

He opens the door and vaguely registers the ornateness is back, all the elegance, the riches, before leaning hard against the wall, eyes closed. His stomach feels like it’s churning.

There’s a knock on the door.

“C’min,” Ed calls out, trying to appear presentable.

The door opens to reveal Izzy, holding to the doorway for support. “Captain.”

“Should be callin’ you captain, I think.”

“I just want to say—” Izzy stops, seeming to suddenly take in the state of Ed. “Are… you okay?”

Ed lets out a deep sigh, sliding down against the wall. “Always did know me well,” he mumbles. “Fuckin’ seasick.”

“Seasick?”

“Yeah.”

Izzy doesn’t say anything for a long time, so long that Ed closes his eyes to try and just breathe when he finally says, “Blackbeard is dead, isn’t he.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah.”

Izzy nods once, to himself, then says quiet, gentle, “I’ll go get something for the seasickness. Edward.”

“Thank you.”

Izzy pats the door jamb. “You’re welcome.”

“Hey, Iz?” Ed calls out as Izzy is almost out of the room entirely. He stops and turns back to look, face guarded. “Had a real weird experience, y’know, when I was dyin’. An’ I just— maybe it’s the seasickness talkin’ but I… I wanna say I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Fuckin’ us up.” Ed squints at Izzy like he’s a sun twelve billion degrees too bright. “We used to be… dunno. Not this.”

“Yeah well… takes two to fuck it up, I reckon.” Izzy leans against the doorframe. “I’m sorry, too.”

“And I— God, fuck,” Ed presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “Fuck, Izzy, I just— it doesn’t change anythin’ but I— I want you to know I loved you, too.”

Ed can hear the shuddering breath Izzy takes, can hear the whispered, “What?”

“I—” Ed lets out a laugh that’s more mourning than amused and looks up at the stricken man before him. “God, Izzy, I loved ya more than I knew what to do with.”

Izzy closes his eyes, face unreadable, then looks around the furnished room. “Lucius tells me I keep things bottled up,” he finally says, voice wavering. “And that I should just say what I mean.”

“Yeah, I reckon so. Stede says the same.”

“So then…” Izzy takes a deep breath, like it takes effort, and says, “Fuck you very much for waiting to say this until now. And I loved you, too. And it doesn’t matter, because we were always going to crash. And it was a goddamn beautiful crash, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ed whispers, “it was.”

“You’re happy now, right? With Bonnet?”

“Yeah. And you are with Lucius?”

“Yeah. And Pete.” Izzy scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuckin’ hate you so much right now. I waited fifteen goddamn years to hear you say that, and now you’re sayin’ it when I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if you love me or not, because I’m better, Ed. I don’t have to—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Ed finishes for him.

“Yeah. That.” Izzy crosses his arms. “I love you. I’ll always love you. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Yeah.” Ed closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.” And suddenly Ed is shaking in his fucking boots. “Sit by me?” he asks, and he’s asking an old friend for a comfort covered in decades of dust. “Please?”

Izzy sits heavily beside him, both wincing slightly at their respective wounds. “Gave you my life,” he whispers.

“Gave you mine, too,” Ed responds. His head is still spinning. “Think we kept grabbin’ at things an’ instead of helpin’ each other up, we just kept pullin’ each other down.”

“Yeah.” Izzy thunks his head back against the wall. “Kept each other alive, though.”

“Couldn’t’a done it alone.”

“Hey, Ed?”

“Yeah, Iz?”

“Absolutely fuck you.”

Ed glances over at the smirk on Izzy’s face and laughs. “Yeah, fuck you, too, mate.” He sighs. “I was in the Locker, y’know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They tried to keep me there by— by givin’ me you back. All young an’ stupid an’ not so damn crotchedy. An’ I almost stayed. They almost had me.” He furrows his brow. “You were tryna kiss me.”

“Weird-ass afterlife,” Izzy jokes, and they both chuckle.

“Can I ask ya somethin’— I mean, it’s… bad. Dumb.”

“You literally never ask me normal questions, so, yeah. Fine.”

He turns to Izzy, all haggard and weather-worn. “One for the road?”

Izzy raises an eyebrow, waiting for clarification.

“I mean— Izzy. Kiss me?”

Izzy closes his eyes, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Of all the years I’ve waited for you to say that, it’s when I can finally live without it.”

“Yeah. Just— wanna know.”

Izzy rolls his eyes and, with hands a lot less shaky than he feels is actually proper, takes Edward Teach’s face and kisses him softly.

When they part, Ed’s hand is on his chest. Their eyes open slowly.

Izzy licks his own lips then says, cheekily, “I guess you pass.”

“Wh— you guess?”

“Lucius is a better kisser.”

“I— well, fuck you too, then, ‘cause right back atcha.”

Izzy raises an eyebrow.

“About Stede. I mean.”

Izzy grins at him, shaking his head. “Bless the man that can put up with you for eternity, because it’s not me.” He stands up with some effort, both middle fingers raised without malice. “I’m goin’ to get you somethin’ so you don’t hurl in my chambers. Pete and Lucius would have my ass.”

“Oh, more than they already do?” Ed retorts, and they’re laughing and smiling and it feels very distinctly like the cast can finally come off the broken arm.

Izzy finally reaches the doorway again, still smiling. “Gotta go get out of this fuckin' leather. Too goddamn hot for this shit.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Izzy?” Ed deadpans.

Izzy just shrugs. “You killed Blackbeard. Think I finally did, too.” And Izzy leaves Ed there, on the floor, and it's not the worst place he's ever been.

Stede closes the door to the crew quarters, letting out a relieved sigh. He had patched up everyone who needed it, and he can rest easy knowing nothing was overly serious.

“Bonnet,” comes a gruff voice, and Stede jumps and turns to see Izzy.

“Izzy,” Stede responds shakily. “Um, nice shirt?”

Izzy shrugs, the loose peasant blouse hanging barely onto his shoulders. “First off, no more stealing my identity.”

“Of course. I do apologize for that.”

“Right.” Izzy holds his breath for a moment, then releases it and stands at attention. “Here is everything you need to know about Edward Teach.”

“Wh—”

“He doesn't do well if he can't move around. Laying in bed all day is not an option for him. He goes through periods of absolute melancholy, and he will refuse to go outside. Make him.”

“I—”

“I'm not done. He's allergic to peanuts. Be careful with those.”

“No peanuts.”

“God do you ever shut—” Izzy holds his hands up and breathes. “Wait until I'm done. Please.”

Stede nods in disbelief.

“He likes heavier blankets. If he needs to exercise his mind, things like dice are perfect. He has no real concept of money beyond a little and a lot, so watch if he places bets. He likes his whiskey with a bit of lime, and he likes his tea with five sugars.”

“Seven.”

“Pardon?”

“He likes seven sugars.” Stede sees the look on Izzy's face and steps back, bumping into the closed door.

Izzy is close, trying very hard not to seem so much terrifying as just intense. “Listen here you little— Listen. That's what you never understood. You joked, the first time you offered tea. You asked how many he wanted, then joked seven, you aristocratic— And he isn't some high society namby-pamby like you, he didn't know it was a joke, and he said yes, because you offered it. And here you stand, still somehow entirely missing the fact that a single word from you, and he changes himself. He'd follow you into hell if you so much as suggested it. You hold goddamn Blackbeard in the palm of your hands and here you are, playing paddywhack. Fuck off.”

Stede's eyes are wide as he watches Izzy's face screw up, his eyes close, and then Izzy is trying again.

“I. Care. About. Edward,” he says with much difficulty. “I want you to succeed. Because I'm moving on. But I can't— I can't just—”

“Abandon him,” Stede finishes for him softly. “You love him. I know. I understand. I couldn't abandon him, either.”

Izzy almost growls, but winds up crossing his arms instead. “Promise me you'll take care of him.”

“Always and forever, Izzy. It's why I became a medic.” Stede levels him with a serious gaze. “I'd die by his side before I'd let him die alone.”

Izzy nods. “Don't die for him. Don't die for anyone but yourself, Bonnet.” And with that, he takes a step back.

Izzy is walking away when Stede finally blurts out, “I'm happy for you!”

He stops. Turns.

“About— About Lucius.”

“And Pete.”

“And— oh! Extra congratulations then! I'm not sure I would've guessed it, but absolutely excellent choices all around.”

Izzy sizes Stede up, as if trying to decide if he's being facetious or genuine. “Pete is a terrifying pirate with ruthless ideas.”

“Yes, if memory serves he did revel in telling gruesome tales.”

“Nothing scares him. Nothing. He's a better pirate than you could ever dream of being.”

Stede suddenly realizes just how stabbable he himself is at the moment. “Good thing I'm not quite sure I want to be a pirate anymore then, huh?” He clears his throat. “I always liked Pete. And Lucius. And all of them, honestly. I didn't want to hire a crew that I couldn't love. So when I say I didn't expect this, I meant— I didn't expect you to love them, too. But you do. I can see that you do. They worked their— their emotional magic on you.”

Izzy rolls his eyes but doesn't disagree. “It's always the stupidest things, isn't it? I knew I loved Ed when he built a stupid sandcastle, and I knew I loved Pete when he brought me a knife to cheer me up. And when Lucius fell asleep against me. Just. Stupid stuff.” Izzy grimaces. “I'm done sharing now, actually. Bring Ed something for his seasickness. I'm going to… do something else.”

“Right. I'll see if Roach has ginger.” He steps aside to let Izzy by, and the brush of their shoulders feels like a million years passing without him.

Stede gets the ginger. He gets some water. He opens the captain's chambers and closes the door behind him.

“Hi,” Stede whispers.

“Hey,” Ed whispers back. He's still lying on the floor. “Ocean's kind of a bitch right now.”

Stede tuts. “Don't let her hear you say that. She'll kill us all. Chew on this.” He hands Ed the ginger and sits down close to him. “Had a genuine conversation with Izzy just now. Did you know he's with—”

“Lucius and Pete, yeah. I had one, too.” Ed chews the ginger thoughtfully. “We kind of kissed.”

“Kind of?”

“Did. We did kiss.”

Stede leans back against the wall. “Was I supposed to do that, too?”

Ed barks out a laugh. “No, no, mate. Think we just… had to. Had to see for ourselves that the path didn't lead anywhere.”

“I understand.”

“You do? Because honestly if you're pissed at me like, I get it.”

Stede shrugs. “I went back to Mary. Mostly to spare you, somewhat to atone, but also a bit of me… wanted to see. See if I'd changed enough to survive that life.” He glances over at Ed. “Are you still dizzy?”

“It's easin' up.”

“Oh, good.” And Stede launches himself at him.

The kiss is sloppy and desperate and salty with finally-shed tears. Ed wraps his arms tight around Stede, pulling him close even as his wound protests.

“Never— do— that— again—” Stede demands between kisses that pepper Ed's mouth, his cheeks, his throat.

“What, kiss Izzy?” Ed asks, turning his face away just to grin cheekily down at Stede.

“I don't care about— Don't leave me again! You were dead!” Stede holds his face tightly in his hands. “I watched you die.”

“Didn't take,” Ed whispers back, and they're holding each other everywhere they can, every touch of hand proving that this is real, this is them, Ed and Stede, alive, alive, alive. Ed kisses Stede, kisses him hard, kisses him with the force of a thousand splendid suns, kisses him with the desperation of a man who Death wrapped her hands around but did not steal the breath of. I love you, he mouths against Stede’s lips, no sound coming out because it’s all trapped somewhere in his throat. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Stede pushes him down slowly, not necessarily intentionally: he kisses him back so intensely that Ed has no choice but to let it lay him out. Stede’s body presses down into his own and he winces.

“Sorry, sorry,” Stede says immediately, sitting up, knees bracketing Ed’s hips. “Forgot.”

Ed smirks up at him. “Some doctor.”

“In my defense, you’re very distracting.” Stede brushes his fingers lightly at the edge of the bandages, over the swirling bruise. “Do you feel okay? I haven’t quite gotten to check up on you since… everything.”

Ed touches his own wound thoughtfully. “Feel a hell of a lot better than I did on that other ship.”

“Good. Good.” Stede begins unwrapping the bandages to better look. “This ship does have a way of healing wounds.”

“Aye. Reckon it does.” He grimaces slightly as the bandages come off and he finally sees the extent of the old damage. “Damn.”

“Yeah. It… wasn’t good.” Stede presses one hand to his chest, putting his weight on it. “This is the last tent. Once this is out, your bandages should be able to stay off. Please do not pass out on me again.”

“Do my best,” Ed grunts, and closes his eyes tight as Stede removes the medical tent. He waits patiently and, when Stede doesn’t say anything, cocks one eye open. “Well? What’s the verdict?”

Stede looks back at him, positively shining. “Edward Teach,” he says, “you’re going to live.”

When Ed and Stede walk into the dining room, all eyes turn to them.

“Jesucristo,” Jim murmurs, shaking their head. “Forgot you two were here.”

“Thanks?” Stede says a little awkwardly. “I think—”

“Are you captains again?” the Swede asks, looking between the two of them.

“Well—”

“Do we need to mutiny Izzy?” Roach asks. “Because I have a few ideas.”

“Hey,” Pete scolds.

“Not deadly ones! Fun ones. I still want him around, of course.”

“How do you mutiny someone with fun? Then it’s not a mutiny it’s just a— I don’t know. Lucius, help me out.”

Lucius looks up from his plate and shrugs. “Yeah, no, I have no idea.”

Izzy holds his arms out in disbelief. “No one is mutinying me!”

“Of course not,” Roach soothes. “But if we were—”

“Ed and I aren’t your captains anymore,” Stede blurts, then looks over to Ed. “Right?”

“Right,” Ed agrees. “We’re done. Retired. Whatever. Izzy is your captain still.” He grabs a plate and sits beside Izzy. “Actually, how did that even happen? Thought you were all set on Olu.”

Oluwande waves a piece of bread at him. “Had to take time off for my honeymoon, and by the time we got back, things were runnin’ so smooth under ‘im that I didn’t see any real need to step in. ‘Sides, never wanted to be captain, anyway.”

“Honeymoon?” Stede asks, eyes wide as he takes his place at the table. “Who did you marry?”

“Me,” Jim says like it’s obvious, waving the hand that has the ring on it.

“Called it,” Ed responds, grinning at them. “Congrats.”

Jim nods at him in acknowledgement. “Same to you.”

Ed raises an eyebrow, then seems to remember the ring on his own finger. “Oh. Oh! No no no, we didn’t— I mean, yes we—” Ed frowns. “So we did the asking thing but not the actually doing it thing.”

“Do you want to do the actually doing it thing? Izzy can marry you.”

Ed and Izzy’s eyes meet. “I don’t think he’d really be up for—”

“‘Course I would.” Izzy motions with his fork. “Or Buttons could do it.”

All heads turn to look at Buttons, who is letting Olivia feed him like he’s her baby. He looks down to make eye contact with them, but does not change anything about what he’s doing.

“Yeah no Izzy would be fine,” Ed manages, sounding a little strangled.

Wee John glances longingly at the pile of fabrics in the corner. “Are we plannin’ and decoratin’ or is this happenin’ right now?”

Stede and Ed try to have a silent conversation with just looks, but Stede finally just says, “I suppose now would be fine, though I am a bit sad it’s not happening at home.”

“Home?” Frenchie asks.

And the word really did just slip out: home. Home with its hand-built shelter and endless fruit and tide pools and waterfall. Home with its fulgurite and its memories and its hogs. Home. Home.

“Shit,” Ed says, having apparently just had the same thought. “I wanna go—” He stops himself, rephrases. “I… also want to be married on the island.”

Buttons eyes them both. “Where’s it at?”

“Dunno, we just washed up there after that storm.”

“She were blowin’ sou’easterly. I reckon ‘f we follow the path o’ the winds, we’ll find ‘er.”

Stede and Ed both look to him with something akin to hope in their eyes. “You can get us back?” Stede asks.

“Aye. I reckon.”

“There,” Ed says quickly, pointing at Buttons. “We get married on our island. Set course.” He pauses. “I mean, if Captain agrees.”

Izzy nods once at him. “You heard the man, Buttons. Set course for the island.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Buttons announces, and immediately gets up and walks to the deck, Olivia still perched firmly on his head.

There is excitement thrumming in Ed’s veins. “You all will love it; it’s such a nice little island, got everythin’ you could ever need. We were in the middle of makin’ some inland tide pools, actually.”

“‘M sure it’s great, mate,” Frenchie says, raising his glass as a toast. “To our former captains.”

“Aye,” the toast is taken up around the room, and as drinks are guzzled, Ed and Stede cannot stop smiling at one another.

They sleep on the deck, if anyone can call it sleeping. It’s whispering and pointing at stars and kissing and cuddling, and Lucius pretends to gag about eighteen times before Frenchie smacks him in the arm. He goes back to gently strumming his lute.

“You’re encouraging them,” Lucius hisses.

“Maybe they need a bit o’ encouragin’, eh?” Frenchie chirps back. “Bring Izzy up an’ I’ll play for you as well. Get a bit o’ an orgy goin’.” He grins salaciously at Lucius.

“Funny.” Lucius crosses his arms and looks to the oblivious couple. “Guess they are sort of sweet.”

“They’re very sweet. You’re just mad you got thrown overboard because of them bein’ not-so-sweet.”

“Hey! Hitting the water like that hurts.”

Frenchie points the pegs of his lute at Ed. “Go an’ tell ‘im, then.”

“Oh yeah, really want to spoil the moment.” Lucius blinks. “Wait, I do.”

“Go on, then.”

Lucius nods once and stamps over to Ed and Stede, arms crossed. When neither seem to notice, too caught up in giggling together, faces barely an inch apart, he clears his throat.

“Oh, Lucius,” Stede says, a little surprised. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, I know.” He looks pointedly to Ed. “I think I deserve an apology.”

“Yeah,” Ed agrees. “…Sorry.”

Lucius makes a go on motion.

“Sorry for pushin’ ya overboard. An’ tryin’ to kill ya.” Ed sits up and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “If I’m bein’ honest here, when Stede told me you were alive, man? I cried. Not like in sadness or anythin’ like… I was so relieved. I didn’t— I didn’t mean it. Or I did mean it, but it weren’t about you.”

Lucius squints, sitting Ed’s apologies on the metaphorical scales, then nods once. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I still get my lick in, though. Like we agreed.”

“Uh, yeah, only fair.” Ed stands up, stretching his arms. “Wanna push me off now or some other time?”

“Now’s good.” Lucius rolls up his sleeves and Ed leans back against the railing, arms wide.

“Give me your best shot,” he calls out, and then Stede is standing rapidly between them.

“No, no, no no no, no. As your doctor I have to highly recommend you not be pushed overboard right now.” His hands are out, as if he can hold the two men apart.

Ed points to Lucius. “He gets a lick in, though. Them’s the rules.”

“Yeah, it’s fair.” Lucius waves Stede aside, but he doesn’t move. “Oh my god he’ll be fine. I was fine and look at me, I couldn’t swim in a puddle.”

“Absolutely not.”

Lucius pouts, then suddenly his eyes glint with mischief. “Wait, you’re not my captain anymore.”

“Lucius—”

“Izzy!” Lucius hollers out. He waits for the answering What before yelling, “Can I push Ed overboard? It’s only fair, right?”

They can all hear grumbling as the captain’s door opens, and Izzy leans against the doorframe, shirtless, exasperated. “Just come to fuckin’ bed, mate.”

“Wh— But it’s fair!”

“He’s right,” Pete’s voice says from somewhere in the cabin, “those are the rules.”

Izzy pinches the bridge of his nose briefly then waves his hand. “I don’t fuckin’ care. Don’t kill ‘im.”

“Perfect,” Lucius purrs, then he side-steps Stede and shoves Ed overboard.

Stede is at the railing in a heartbeat, staring over. He’s already begun pushing himself to go after him but Lucius pulls him back down.

“Woaahhh woah woah woah,” Lucius says, holding Stede tight. “Just watch. He’s fine. Watch.”

Stede watches Ed hit the water, watches him resurface, watches him give them a thumbs-up.

“See?” Lucius says, letting go. “He’s fine.”

Stede refuses to look away until Ed has climbed up the ladder and dragged his soaking ass onto the deck.

“That was horrible,” he scolds Lucius finally, rushing over.

Ed gives Stede a little shake of his head. “You just didn’t grow up on the streets, mate. That’s how it’s done.” He looks back to Lucius. “We even?”

Lucius nods. “Yeah. We’re even.”

“Good.” He sticks his hand out and Lucius helps him up. “Go warm their bed, eh?”

Lucius finally cracks a smile at him. “Yeah, alright. That’s an order I don’t mind following.” They watch him scurry away and knock on Izzy’s door, where he’s hurriedly pulled inside by the front of his shirt.

“Are you alright?” Stede asks Ed.

As a response, Ed holds up a horribly-shaking hand.

“Oh dear. Are you hurt?”

“Nah.” Ed slides down against the bannister. “Like jumping from the waterfall.”

“Oh.” Stede sits beside him. “You’re afraid.”

Ed opens and closes his fists repetitively, searching for some form of comfort. “Honestly, Stede? Think I might hate ships.”

“What?”

“Think I don’t wanna be a pirate anymore. Think I don’t wanna be captain anymore. Thought I wanted to be a first mate but I don’t. Think I just wanna be with you.”

“Oh.” Stede watches him struggle inside, then scoots closer. “I don’t want to be a pirate anymore, either. People— People die too much.”

“Yeah.”

“And I think I hate trying to lead.”

“Yep.”

“And I hate not being able to see a goddamn tree.”

Ed glances over at him. “Trees are nice.”

“And does it feel crowded here? Not crowded, actually, that’s not the right word. Like… like everyone went past us? Or more like, like time went past us.”

“Gods yes. Everything is different. Did you notice the masthead is new? Because it’s new.”

“Yes. I did.” Stede thunks his head back against the railing. “What are we going to do, Ed?”

Ed purses his lips, then reaches out and holds Stede’s hand tight. “We’re going to get married. The rest we’ll just figure out as we go.”

“It’s a lot different than deciding on supper.”

“Nah, not really.” Ed brings their hands to his lips and kisses each of Stede’s fingers in turn. “Just a lot of suppers at once.”

“And what about this one? What shall we have tonight?”

Ed looks up at the stars and sighs. “Sleep, I think. Sleep sounds good.” He kisses Stede’s cheek then rests his head on his shoulder.

“You’re soaking wet.”

“And you have to deal with it,” Ed teases back, breathing out when Stede’s head leans against his own. “Keep the nightmares away, okay?”

“Dream of me so I can.”

“I reckon I can do that.”

“Then we’re all set.”

They fall asleep together, on the hard deck, under the star-scattered sky.

Ed wakes up first.

His back aches like hell and he's got a crick in his neck, but Stede is breathing slow against him and the world rights itself again.

He takes a few minutes here, just existing in the moment, before gently disentangling himself. He sneaks towards the galley in the early morning fog.

He finds Roach already in there, busy whipping up breakfast. “Oh, hello,” Roach says. “Food isn't ready yet.”

“It's okay. I actually came to make something for Stede.”

“My food not good enough for you?” Roach snaps, his cleaver coming down with a sharp swing.

Ed pales. “Uh, no, that's not it at all. I just… I wanna make him food.”

Roach huffs but motions Ed over. “You can help with everyone's breakfast. Final offer.”

“Um, alright?”

“You know how to use a knife, right?”

“Right.”

“Cut up these fruit. I'll work on the jerky.”

Ed easily slices oranges and apples and other things he vaguely knows, all to the approving hum of Roach. “Hey, do you make tea?”

“Tea? No.” Roach pauses, then shrugs. “I mean, I can, I just don’t.”

Ed holds up an orange. “How do you make tea from this? Like, good tea. Not just vaguely-orange-tasting-water.”

Roach stabs his knife through the orange to pick it up, leaving Ed grateful for still having all of his fingers. “Citron tea,” he finally says, flicking the orange up and slicing it in half in the air.

Ed stares at him. “Teach me how to do that,” he commands, and then, “and make that.”

“You’ll need sugar. And a few lemons.” Roach waves him away with the knife and Ed has the fleeting thought that it’s odd he didn’t wind up with Izzy. He shakes that image away before it can get too far.

“How do you find sugar like… in the wild?”

Roach shrugs. “Ask Wee John. He gets the sugar for us.”

“He does?”

“We delegate.”

“Weird fuckin’ ship.”

“Izzy’s idea.”

“And I repeat: weird fuckin’ ship.”

Roach laughs to himself. “Here, take this to your lover, eh? I’ll teach you recipes later.” He hands over a plate of bread and meat, which Ed takes.

“But I didn’t make this!”

“Here, put it on this plate instead.” Ed does as he’s told, then Roach gestures broadly. “There. Now you can say you helped. Get the hell out of my kitchen.”

“But—”

“Out!”

Ed looks at the large knife and nods, hightailing it out of there. He sees Stede blearily waking up and smiles softly to himself. “I brought you something.”

Stede blinks up at him, then his eyes light up. “Oh, breakfast! Thank you very much. Come, sit, share with me.”

Ed sits beside him, close enough to feel his warmth in the morning chill. “I helped make that,” he deadpans.

“Wow, Roach always just kicked me out of the kitchen.” He holds out a piece of jerky to Ed, who opens his mouth playfully. Stede feeds him, something fond on his face. “So.”

“So.”

“So,” Stede repeats, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Ed’s mouth, threatening to lose the entire morning to one another.

Ed smiles into the kiss. “So what was in those stupid crates anyway?”

Stede hangs his head and laughs. “You'll think me a fool.”

“Maybe.”

Stede looks out over the deck, to the horizon on the far side. “I gave up my wealth when I left Mary. All of it. But I still had favors of sorts, so I… besought an old friend.”

“You besought them? I didn't know we could besought people. Maybe I should go find Izzy again,” Ed teases. 

Stede side-eyes him in amusement. “That's not what that means and you know it. Anyway, I— I know leather is horrid at sea. So I got… fabrics. I wasn't sure what style you truly would like, so I thought I'd let you choose and we'd learn together how to make clothes.” He winces. “It was stupid.”

“Yeah,” Ed agrees. “Definitely not worth braving a storm for.”

“You were, though.”

“Guess it worked out alright.” Ed presses a gentle kiss to his mouth. “It was sweet, anyway.”

“It was stupid.”

“Stupid and sweet.”

Stede looks away, cheeks tinged with pink. “Do we know how long it is until we make it to the island?”

Ed shrugs. “Haven’t talked to Buttons. Haven’t seen him, actually, now that I’m thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

Stede looks back to the wheel and balks. “No one is steering the ship!”

“Ah, dammit—” They both get up and run up the stairs, only to immediately wish they hadn’t.

“Mornin’, cap’n,” Buttons says dutifully, from his place on the ground, naked, feet resting on the wheel as he stares straight into the sun. “We should be arrivin’ at land within th’ hour.”

Ed leans in close to Stede. “Where are his—” he begins to whisper, but a quick shake of Stede’s head lets him know it’s better not to ask questions when it comes to Buttons.

“Thank you,” Stede responds politely, turning on his heels and walking back down the stairs, Ed close behind.

Ed jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Dude’s hung.”

Stede coughs back a snort. “Ed!”

“What? He is! Like a goddamn horse, he— is he a horse? Listen if you told me he was a horse I wouldn’t even question it.”

“Not a horse,” Stede says surely. “But maybe a cursed merman? Honestly I’m not too sure on that front. I don’t even remember hiring him.” He squints in confusion. “Did he just… show up one day? In the middle of the ocea—”

“Bonnet! Ed!”

They are assailed by Izzy, who hands over a piece of folded paper.

“Sign this.”

Stede opens it carefully. It’s a document written in pretty, spindly handwriting. He feels Ed nudge him. “It’s a certificate of our marriage.”

“Sign it now. I’ll sign it after the ceremony and you’ll be—” Izzy gestures vaguely, “permanently disgusting.” He holds out a quill.

“Thanks,” Ed says, taking it and marking a big X across one of the lines.

Stede takes the quill and presses the nib to the paper, then pulls it back up, looking at Izzy. “Oh. Oh.”

Izzy only looks mildly murderous. “Sign the bloody thing if you’re going to.”

“That’s your signature there, isn’t it, Ed?” Stede asks, turning to him.

“Uh, yeah, and yours goes right beside it.”

“Not— On his cheek.”

Izzy touches the tattoo on his cheek as Ed’s eyes snap to it. Both are silent for what feels like eternity, and then Ed turns his own arm over to show Stede a matching one. “Neither of us uh— neither of us could write at first. Izzy learned. I didn’t.”

Stede touches the X on Ed’s arm reverently. “So this one says Izzy, then.”

“Yeah.”

“And that one says Ed.”

Izzy nods once, curtly.

“Hm.” Stede twirls the quill in his fingers, then signs the page.

Izzy tilts his head back to look anywhere but them. “I can get Lucius to cover it up. If it bothers—”

“Oh Lord no, don’t do that,” Stede says hurriedly, handing him back the quill. “Erase an entire part of your past like that? Your being? I’d sooner run this ship aground.”

“You—”

“Bad choice of words, I know. I— I don’t want the two of you to think I’m holding something against you. I’m not. Sometimes even things that failed are worth the actions they took.”

Izzy groans softly. “I wish you were more of an asshole. I really do.”

Stede gives him a gentle smile. “Sorry. Would you like to eat breakfast with us?”

Izzy huffs, then looks to Ed.

Ed just sort of shrugs, like they’re in uncharted territory. And they are.

“Sure,” Izzy finally says, and he follows them to sit against the rail of the ship.

And he doesn’t expect friendship. He doesn’t expect conversation. He doesn't expect anything, really, because to have expectations is to allow himself to be hurt.

And it does hurt.

Laughing this hard with two friends hurts his stomach in a very, very lovely way.

“Olu,” Stede calls out a long time later, catching him in the halls.

“Yes, captain? Or uh, not captain but uh— Stede? Dad? Nope, that was definitely weird. Stede.”

“Either is fine. I was wondering if you could help me with my vows.”

Oluwande looks absolutely trapped. “Um, I know Lucius is around ‘ere somewhere—”

“I don’t want Lucius, though! I want you. You married Jim, and I missed it — very sorry about that, by the way — and I want to know what your vows were like.” Stede gives him a nervous smile. “Jim and Ed being so similar and all.”

Olu raises an eyebrow. “They’re similar?”

“You… haven’t noticed?”

“They’re nothin’ alike!”

“They’re practically the same person!”

“What? Just ‘cause Jim loves knives? A lot of people do!”

“Also the secrecy! And the intensity!”

“No offense but Ed is practically a very big dog! Personality-wise, anyway. Jim is more like a— like a leopard.”

“Ed can be a leopard! And surely Jim has some sense of humor.”

“Aye, but it’s very deadpan. Not your style at all.” Olu sighs and looks around. “Can’t you just… make some up without me?”

“Well, I could, but they wouldn’t be as good if they weren’t peer-reviewed, now, would they be?”

Olu grumbles, “Guess not,” then sighs.”Alright, but you’re not copyin’ my vows.”

“I would never.”

“Jim.”

Jim grunts.

“Vows. Help.”

They look up at Ed, caught somewhere between a squint and a sneer. “What?”

“I gotta write these vows for Stede, man— dude? Bro? Manperson? Personma—”

“Man is fine.”

“Right. Vows, man. Need help with these fuckin’ vows.”

“Sucks.”

Ed groans and steps farther into the cabin, shutting the door behind him. “Please. I’m asking you for help.”

Jim eyes their nearest knife, which is too far away to grab easily, and sighs. “Fine. Fine. For the record I fuckin’ hate this. What have you got so far?”

Ed perches himself on a nearby stool. “Okay so, I think I’m gonna start with somethin’ about star-crossed lovers, like Shakespeare, y’know, and then—”

Jim winces. “Yeah no, I don’t know.”

Ed blinks at them. “Like. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

Jim shrugs.

“Ah… damn. Okay so, it’s this play, right, about these two people in love…”

“An’ I talked about how wonderful I think they are, but in a very cool way, y’know. I didn’t want it to be too much for Jim. They’re really sensitive. I kind of kept my real vows for later, on our own. Without the— the crowd.”

Stede nods through it all, absorbing. “So you think Ed would similarly prefer private vows?”

“Maybe? I think you know ‘im better than I do.”

Stede sits back, thinking. “You know, I think he’d— oh! Hello, love!”

Ed runs past them both, a look of pure panic on his face.

“Um, Ed?” Stede calls out, but then a knife lodges itself in the wood beside his head, and Jim is rounding the corner, furious.

“Jim!” Olu yells as Jim runs past, grabbing the knife without breaking stride. “Jim!”

Stede and Olu share a brief glance, and then they’re following the two.

They find Jim having cornered Ed, knife outstretched, as Ed looks desperately for some sort of shield.

“I’m sorry!” Ed yells, ducking as Jim makes to throw the knife.

“They die?!” Jim yells angrily.

“Woah woah woah!” Stede says over them both, stepping between them. “What happened?”

Jim points the knife menacingly. “That motherfucker made me listen to a shitty story!”

“You take that back!”

Jim lunges at Ed, but Olu slides in and holds them back. “Jim, Jim, look at me.”

Jim looks, though anger still brims.

“It’s just a story. Right?” He looks back to Ed for confirmation.

“It is! I didn’t know they’d freak out about it!”

Stede looks at Ed desperately. “What did you tell them?!”

“Romeo and Juliet!”

Jim snarls and throws their knife at Ed, but he side-steps it quickly. “Fuckin’ shit,” Jim finally says, spitting onto the deck then pointing at Ed. “Write your own fuckin’ vows.”

Stede blinks in surprise. “You’re putting Shakespeare in your vows?”

Ed ignores him. “I wrote a different ending! A good one!”

Jim glares at Ed, then shoves Stede aside to grab the front of Ed’s shirt. “It better be good,” they grumble, then pull Ed back the way they came.

Olu and Stede watch them go, befuddled, before Olu finally chuckles and says, “See? Told you they were sensitive.”

“You did indeed.” Stede huffs out a breath and shakes his head, then looks back up as he hears rapidly-approaching footsteps. “Oh Ed, what did you—”

He’s cut off by a rough, buzzing kiss, smile pressing hard into his mouth, and then Ed is pulling back and pointing out onto the horizon. “Stede! Look! It’s—”

“Land ho!” Buttons yells, and everyone turns to see the island.

Stede feels something in his hand, and when he looks down, he sees it’s Ed’s hand. Ed is holding onto him tightly, excitedly, still staring at the slowly-approaching dot. “We’re home,” Ed whispers, and it’s like something that was teetering on the edge falls directly into place.

“Yeah,” Stede repeats, “we’re home.”

They step off the Revenge.

Nothing has changed. The wind hasn’t even blown sand over their rock table. Their shelter still stands. They can see their footprints still in the sand, the remnants of themselves. Like they never left. Like nothing ever changed.

“My cup!” Ed yells, ecstatic, running forward to grab it. He holds it gently in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the etchings, re-memorizing it. “God, thought I lost this.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you found it!” Stede meanders over, looking on with admiration. “It did make me very sad to think you wouldn't have that again. I know how much you liked it.”

“‘Course I liked it. Fuckin’ loved it. Still do. You made it for me. Even when I was bein’ a dick about things.”

“To be fair, I deserved that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Ed gives him a gentle smile. “Neither of us deserved the other right then, actually. But we fixed it. Together.”

“Together,” Stede repeats. “Oh, the fire pit still looks perfect. We could have tea in a bit, if you’d like.”

“Or we could have a wedding,” Jim deadpans from somewhere behind them. “Y’know. Like we planned.”

Stede and Ed both turn, slightly surprised. “Oh,” Ed says, “right. Um, well— Stede, are we starting at opposite sides like we said or— that’s probably no good now, right?”

“I think we just—” Stede glances over his shoulder, to the path, the dinghy, the waterfall. “How about we— we get married right here.”

Ed gives him a puzzled little look, and Stede takes his hands and pulls him close, then pulls him down to kiss his cheek, and maybe, just maybe, whisper something of a plan in his ear.

“Trust me?” Stede breathes too low for anyone else to hear.

“I do,” Ed responds instantly.

“Save it for the wedding,” Stede jokes, and Ed shakes his head, smiling.

“Alright, here. But over there.” Ed points to the dead branches marking the lightning strike.

“Oh, perfect, love.” They walk over, hand in hand, and the crew follows, Izzy in front.

Izzy holds out a hand and the crew stops short, letting him continue the last few steps up to the couple. “How are we doing this?” he asks.

“Pardon?” Ed asks.

“Do you have your own vows?”

They both shake their heads with two very sturdy no’s.

Izzy looks between the two of them before raising one eyebrow. “Okay. Short and sweet, then?”

“As short as you can make it,” Stede agrees.

“Like, one sentence would be fine,” Ed adds.

Izzy almost snorts, almost, then just unfolds the piece of paper and motions for Lucius to bring him a quill. “Fine. Are there any objections?”

Ed reaches for his knife with his free hand, staring out at the crowd menacingly.

“None? None at all? Not even a little?”

“Iz.”

Izzy grins at him. “Sorry. Stede Bonnet and Edward Teach, as captain of The Revenge, I thee wed.” With a flourish, Izzy signs his name on the paper. There are whoops and cheers as Ed pulls Stede into a sweeping kiss, dipping him low.

“What now?” Lucius asks, bouncing on his toes, and Ed stares at Stede, suspended in his arms below him, and thinks he knows exactly what is next.

“Could we have some time?” Ed asks, voice a bit rougher than he intends it to be, eyes a bit more roving. “Like… like maybe a week?”

Stede kisses him again, softer, slower.

“Or— or two weeks?”

Lips pressed to lips. Tongue pressed to tongue.

“Come back in a month,” Ed says with finality, and he shifts his arms to pick Stede up bridal-style, only grimacing a little.

“‘Kay, bye,” Lucius responds, already walking back to the ship. “Happy honeymoon!”

“Back to pirating!” Izzy yells, and the crew takes up the raucous cheer. Ed and Stede wave at them retreating on the dinghy, then on the ship, and then they’re exchanging gleeful, mischievous glances.

“One hour?” Stede asks.

“One hour,” Ed agrees, setting him down, and then they’re both running to their respective spots.

Ed is hurriedly braiding his hair, sprinting through the edges of the forest to find flowers to weave into it. He’s scooping up ocean water to rinse his chest and stomach off, and really he should’ve made them leave a shirt behind, but he could make it a month without. He rinses his face as well, swishes water through his teeth and spits it back out, and takes one final look at his shaky hands. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and sprints down the path.

He flies over trampled dirt, over old and new hog tracks, over seedlings springing up where he had pulled them before. He breaks into the clearing at the same moment Stede does. They stand there, on either side of the basin, breathing hard, and then they’re running to each other.

They catch one another in their arms, holding tight and kissing hard, caught up in the euphoria of together.

“Vows,” Ed presses against Stede’s mouth, his mouth, his mouth. He gets lost in there, pushing Stede back against the nearest tree, hands roaming.

“Vows,” Stede agrees in a whisper, and makes no move to do anything other than touch Ed’s face, his back, his sides, his ass.

Ed laughs against his mouth and finally pulls back enough to repeat, “Vows, babe. We gotta— gotta do the vows.”

“Mm, mmhm.” Stede tries to go in for another kiss, but Ed dodges it, grinning.

“C’mon, c’mon, the plan, we gotta stick with the plan.”

“Right, right.” Stede looks up at Ed, eyes shining. “Who goes first?”

“Your plan, you do.” Ed runs his hands down Stede’s sides, resting them at his hips. “Vow me up, babe.”

“I love you,” Stede rushes out. “I love you more than I knew I could love anyone. You are brilliant and kind and thoughtful and funny and the absolute best person I know. I want to spend forever waking up with you. I want to spend forever wherever you are. You are the sunrise, and the sunset, and the moon and the stars. You’re the sea. You’re the anchor. You’re all of it and more, Ed, and I want to drink tea with you every morning.” Stede kisses him again, threatening to derail this entire thing, but Ed kisses out of his mouth, to his cheek.

“I love you, too,” Ed whispers. “And I know how I’d rewrite that ending. Juliet wouldn’t kill herself at Romeo’s side. She’d wait for him. She’d keep him safe and heal him, and they’d run away together, and it would end— here.” Ed kisses his cheek. “Right here.” His temple. “It would end happy.” His nose. “It would end like this.” His lips. “I’m marrying you right now, and you can’t stop me. Those are my vows. Kiss me. Never stop kissing me. I’ll never let you go.” And Ed gathers Stede up in his arms and kisses his mouth like he can find salvation in it.

And he does, he does; he finds it in the way Stede’s tongue feels against his own, he finds it in the way Stede’s skin feels against his palms, he finds it in the way Stede’s breath feels saying I love you.

“Marry me?” Ed asks.

But mostly, he finds salvation in I do. I do. I do.

A week, a month, a year— it doesn’t matter. Ed will stay wherever Stede is, by his side. He’ll grab his hand on the shoreline. He’ll kiss his lips on the deck. He’ll hold him tight under the star-studded sky.

They’ll be legends, the two of them. They’ll make their own story here, chart their own path. When tales are told of Edward Teach, they won’t be tales of horror and bloodshed; they’ll be tales of love, tales of softness, tales of making tea and sharing it with the man he loved more than the sea itself.

And when the next pair of castaways wash up on this island, years from now, they’ll still see a sturdy shelter, a slightly-overgrown path, a vast population of wild hogs, a piece of fulgurite, an ashen firepit, a displaced dinghy, and one beautiful, crafted, and very well-loved teacup.