Chapter Text
“I thought that went well,” Ed told Stede fondly.
“Mm?” Stede gazed out the car window at the snowy night. “Oh, yes.” He seemed to be staring at something in the middle distance.
“Mary offered to come in and teach a few art classes,” Ed added, “dunno if you heard that.” Stede did not respond. “I hope Louis is going to be okay,” Ed tried again. “Poor little man.”
Stede inhaled sharply and turned his face back toward Ed. “You did great with him,” Stede said. “The burial at sea was a stroke of genius.” He gave Ed’s hand a squeeze.
Ed squeezed back. “Years of training,” he grinned. Stede smiled briefly before his face slid back into something between sadness and worry. “Stede, love, is there something wrong?”
Stede released his hand and patted his thigh. “No, no,” he said.
“Alright,” Ed said doubtfully.
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Stede tossed his keys absently on the table in the foyer and kicked off his shoes. He wandered into the kitchen, still in his overcoat, and put the kettle on. Ed hung up his jacket and made his way to the living room. He picked up the guitar he’d brought over a few nights earlier and began idly plucking the strings. Stede rummaged around in the cupboard, knocking out a mug as he groped for the teabags. It hit the floor with a loud crack but did not break. “SHIT!” Stede bellowed.
Ed set the guitar aside and stood. “Stede, have I done something wrong?”
Stede froze halfway to picking up the mug. He grabbed it and straightened slowly. “No, Ed. No, you haven’t done anything wrong. I have.” He set the mug down on the counter and moved into the living room. He took Ed by the hand and pulled him down to sit beside him on the couch. Stede rested his forearms on his thighs, staring at his folded hands. “I haven’t wanted to say anything about it, because everything has been so perfect, but I’m,” Ed’s eyes were wide with concern, “I’m moving back to London. After Christmas.”
Ed exhaled in relief. “Christ, man. I thought you were going to tell me you were dying or something.” Stede looked up at him, eyebrows arched in surprise. Ed chuckled. “I know you’re going back to London,” he said. Stede leaned his head back a little in frank consternation. “I don’t know much about what being an artistic director at a theater involves,” Ed went on, “but I assumed it wasn’t a temporary gig, right?” Stede nodded. “I reckoned you’d be going back sooner or later.”
Stede frowned a little. “I guess that makes sense. But doesn’t it bother you? I’ve been wretched about the whole thing.”
“’Course it bothers me,” Ed reassured him, “because I want to be with you all the time. Obviously.” He cupped Stede’s face in his hands and kissed him gently. “I’ll miss you when you’re away. But you’re not ‘moving to London’. Quite dramatic, that.”
“What do you mean, I’m not moving to London? We’ve just discussed that very fact!” Stede’s brow furrowed deeper.
“No, you’re going to London,” Ed said, “not moving there.” He laughed at Stede’s confused look. “You adore your children, right?” Stede nodded, and Ed shrugged in confirmation. “And they live here. I don’t know what arrangements you made to leave your theater and live here for a couple of months, but you were obviously able to do it.” He turned a little and pulled Stede’s legs up across his knees. Stede leaned back into the couch as Ed rubbed one hand reassuringly along his calf. “You have a piano in this apartment,” he went on, “and a whole second closet devoted to clothes you might wear again someday.” He squeezed Stede’s knee. “This isn’t a short-term rental.”
Stede sighed as he began to relax. “No, I own it,” he said.
Ed nodded. “Thought as much.” He rested his arms across Stede’s legs. “So you’ll go to London, where I assume you do have a short-term rental?” Another nod. “And you’ll work on whatever you’re working on, and then you’ll come back.”
“Well, I…” Stede hesitated, “the plan was to start looking for a place to buy there. And to sell this place. And just stay at Mary and Doug’s when I’m in town. I’d call that moving.”
“Right,” Ed allowed, “that was the plan. But plans change. Situations evolve.”
“I’m not sure what you –”
“You had a grab bar installed in your shower for me,” Ed said, “after barely a month.” He paused, and a mischievous glint sprang up in his eyes. “I have it on good authority that you are very much in love with me, Stede Bonnet, and you clearly intend to keep me alive and uninjured when I’m naked in your apartment, so –”
Stede sat bolt upright and shoved Ed in protest. “Good authority?!” he spluttered.
“I have extremely good hearing,” Ed drawled with a wicked grin. “don’t worry - I love you too, you lunatic.”