Chapter Text
Ed fiddled anxiously with the tie at his throat. Is this what they call buyer’s remorse? he wondered. As deliciously indulgent as it was to wear Stede’s clothes from time to time, like a little shared secret between them, he’d realized he wanted his own fine things to wear. Ed hadn’t socialized much in the past few – okay, several – years, and his wardrobe now consisted mostly of kid-friendly work clothes and the occasional leather or denim vestige of his past life. So he’d gone shopping, and now he stood in a hotel ballroom, in a suit. “Like a glove,” Stede had breathed when Ed emerged from the change room, and when Stede said that Ed had no choice but to buy it. It was fitted, single-breasted, with long sleek lines. The fabric was a twilight grey, with a faint sheen where the light hit, like oiled steel. Tiny lavender blooms flecked the pale lilac field of his button-down shirt, and his silvery tie set off the nautilus cufflinks Stede had insisted he wear. His hair was tied up in a full, neat bun, and he’d oiled and combed out his beard with even greater care than usual. He felt gaudy, like a peacock, although Stede had assured him the fit gave him an understated elegance.
Ed drained the tall sleeve of beer in his hand and surveyed the room warily. “Need me to take out this Badminton?” he’d joked as they arrived.
“If he really was, uh, interested in me all those years ago, I feel a bit sorry for him,” Stede had said. “Poor bastard.”
“Sounds like he has a lot of issues,” Ed had agreed, “but he's been a dick to you for what, almost two decades? I wouldn't feel too sorry for him. Anyway, this party'll be a piece of cake.”
Stede had nodded. Now, Ed wished he felt as confident as he’d sounded.
He scanned the room again. The rippling sound of conversation, punctuated by shill bursts of laughter, reminded him of seagulls clamouring over washed up garbage at low tide. Rude, he chastened himself. There’s no need to be mean. His eye caught Stede’s across the room. Stede was deep in lively conversation with a portly, jocular man. Ed smiled in open adoration as Stede waved at him before returning to the discussion. Stede really did stand out from the crowd. Most of the partygoers were wearing various shades of black, grey, and white, occasionally accented with a dash of colour. Kind of like I am, Ed thought. And then understanding dawned. Understated elegance. Stede had brought him just far enough out of his comfort zone to blend in. Ed smiled again. There was no blending in when it came to Stede Bonnet. He wore a frost-blue heavy silk suit with a contrasting stitch in cobalt along the cuffs and lapels. His shirt was high, collarless, white linen, and around his neck he’d tied a vibrant cranberry scarf in an artfully haphazard knot. It shouldn’t have worked but it did, setting off his tangle of golden curls and his sparkling hazel eyes.
“Pirates?” a thick French accent trilled at his elbow. Ed whirled around in bafflement. Standing next to him, a trifle too close, was an angular woman with apple cheeks and a sharp chin. Her face was heavily made up and her cloud-blue bob was almost certainly a wig. Gusts of acrid perfume wafted with her every movement.
“Huh?” Ed asked.
“Are you in ze Pirates of Penzance?” the woman clarified. “Badminton’s current project? You certainly look ze part of a pirate king.” She batted her false eyelashes lasciviously. Was she putting on the accent? “Don’t you sink he could be a pirate, Gabriel?” She waved over a snobbish looking man in a brocade coat, who looked Ed up and down appraisingly.
“You are correct, my dear Antoinette,” he confirmed. “Are you in ze company, sir?”
Ed frowned in confusion. “What company?” he asked impatiently. This somehow amused the two of them, and they tittered behind affectedly raised hands.
“Why, ze Golden Age Playhouse company, naturally,” the man called Gabriel said. “You are an actor, are you not?”
“What, no! I’m not an actor,” Ed scoffed. “Are … are you actors?” He tried to follow along.
Antoinette rolled her eyes. “We are investors, monsieur. Obviously. We are ze money.” Her hand fluttered meaningfully to the heavy gem-crusted necklace at her throat.
“Okay, whatever,” Ed shrugged.
“Ugh,” Gabriel huffed dramatically. “Come along, Antoinette darling.” He threaded an arm around her waist and pulled her away.
Ed glanced again at his empty glass. His eyes sought out the bar and he saw the friendly-looking man Stede had been talking to earlier, waving at him to come over. “Jeffrey Fettering!” the man exclaimed as Ed approached him. His face lit up in exuberance. “And you must be Edward Teach! Such a pleasure to meet you!” He stretched out his hand. Ed took it, and was immediately concerned this Jeffrey would shake it clean off in his enthusiasm. Jeffrey noted Ed’s trepidation and reassured him. “I’m an old friend of Stede’s,” he said, “from school.” Ed’s frown deepened in suspicion. “Not that school,” Fettering went on. “Not like some of these asses. I’m a real old friend. Primary school. Our fathers worked together. Or rather, my father worked for his. With Mary’s father, actually,” he added. “The three of us were quite the band of little misfits back then.” He paused pensively, remembering something unspoken, and then shrugged. “I’ve only reconnected with Stede recently,” he went on. “Turns out we both have a passion for the theatre, who knew?” Ed simply smiled and nodded as Jeffrey rambled on about their friendship and his love of Stede's work. His genuine delight was disarming. When Jeffrey finally stopped to draw breath Ed chimed in.
“It’s nice to meet a friend of Stede’s,” he said. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jeff – Jeffrey.”
“Oh, Jeff’s fine,” the other man laughed. He called the bartender over to refill Ed’s glass. Then he jutted his chin in the direction of Antoinette and Gabriel. “I see you’ve met the Bijouxs?”
Ed snorted. “Yes,” he said, “the 'money'. Certainly not actors, God forbid.” He drank deeply from his beer. “They’re quite the couple.”
“Couple?” Jeffrey snickered, “oh no. No. They’re siblings.” Ed raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Oh, it’s true,” Jeff went on. “Although there are of course rumours that they’re something … more…” he shuddered. “But enough gossip. I know my connection to the theatre is less exciting than that of some folks, but I would love to catch up more with Stede one of these days, and to get to know you better. Do tell him my invitation to the ranch was serious.”
“Ranch?”
“I have a place out west where I raise horses,” Jeff said. “Bit of a dream hobby for me. I would be delighted to host you both sometime. But right now,” he turned and looked meaningfully across the room, “I think your man might need a bit of assistance.”
Ed followed his gaze to Stede, whose brow was wrinkling low over piercing eyes. His mouth was a thread of displeasure, and his jaw clenched. A shorter man with hair that appeared to have been dyed straw-blonde was chattering up at Stede. His fine features twisted in a look of cruel amusement. Ed set down his half-finished beer and strode purposefully toward them. Stede noticed his approach and shot Ed a small warning shake of the head, but Ed was not deterred. The man nattered on, oblivious.
“And then there was the time we Carrie-ed your set, remember Bonnet? Corn syrup and food colouring all over the stage. We did have such fun back then, eh?”
Stede’s scowl deepened. “I don’t recall it being fun, no,” he said in a measured voice. “It wasn’t just a set, it was my senior project and you destroyed it. And terrified my cast.”
“Oh, just a bit of hazing, everyone was doing it back then,” the man trilled. “Lighten up, hey Bonnet?”
Ed moved closer to Stede and slightly in front of him, not quite between the two men but too close to be ignored.
“Ah!” the man said, shifting his focus to Ed. “You must be the famous Edward Teach.” He looked Ed up and down slowly, appraisingly, with an uncomfortable keenness to his gaze. “Very good. Oh, delightful.”
Ed’s frown rivaled Stede’s. “That’s my name,” he said, a little more aggressively than intended. “And you are?” he asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.
The man positively chortled. “I’m Nigel Badminton,” the man said. “Old school chum of Bonnet’s, current fellow director.” His eyes glinted with predatory interest.
In his peripheral vision, Ed could see Stede tensing up with apprehension. Ed reached out reflexively, not taking his eyes from Badminton, and touched Stede’s arm. Stede laid a hand over Ed’s.
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man said with menace-tinged glee. He did not extend a hand to Ed.
“Yeah, likewise,” Ed bit out.
Stede’s hand tightened on Ed’s fingers. His eyes darted between Nigel and Ed, parsing the uneasy tension sparking between them. After a moment Badminton’s shoulders relaxed and he said in a light and friendly tone, “and is it true that you’re a kindergarten teacher?”
“Oh, I’m the director of an –”
Badminton’s voice grew shrill, with a mocking, manic edge as he cut Ed off. “I thought it had to be the most ridiculous rumour, that Stede Bonnet, Juilliard alumnus,” Ed shot Stede a quizzical glance. Juilliard? Badminton went on, building up momentum, “award-winning, critically acclaimed industry darling, coveted on two continents, THE Stede Bonnet, was shacking up with his children’s babysitter!”
Ed’s fingers were a vice on Stede’s arm. His body coiled in pent-up anger, radiating low-banked rage. “What did you just say?” his voice was ominously calm.
Nigel ignored the warning. “I didn’t believe it at first, of course. So tacky. But then, that’s Bonnet for you. And of course now that I’ve seen what all the fuss was about,” he raked another lascivious look over Ed’s body, “well. Who could blame you for slumming it, right Bonnet?” His eyebrows waggled suggestively.
Ed had Nigel by the collar before Stede registered his movement. He drew the other man nearly off his feet, nose-to-nose. “Wipe that shit-eating smirk off your rat face, you little piece of sh—”
Stede’s hands fell on Ed’s shoulders and pulled him back. “Edward,” he hissed. “Back off.” With visible effort, Ed released Nigel. Stede gave him a pointed look. “Honestly, he’s not worth the effort. Don’t debase yourself over a man whose last production closed after the first week.”
Nigel’s smug look evaporated. “The cast had food poisoning!” he protested.
Stede’s eyebrow quirked. “I’m sure that was all it was. After all,” he went on loftily, “the critics adored it, didn’t they? I believe the most flattering one was that of Basil Cullen for the Times?”
“He said my Guys and Dolls was soothing,” Nigel attempted weakly.
Stede stared down his nose at him. “Comfortable as an old boot, I believe he said. Not demanding anything from the audience.”
“It’s a musical,” huffed Badminton. “It’s not supposed to demand anything.” But the wind was gone from his sails. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, puffing himself up again, “I believe there’s someone I need to speak to.” He spun on his heel and stalked off into the throng.
“Being called ‘comfortable’ is bad in the theatre world?” Ed asked Stede. “I mean, the old boot part wasn’t great, but the rest of it didn’t sound bad?”
“Damning with faint praise,” Stede said. “Director’s egos are notoriously enormous. Anything shy of being told we’re transcendent sends us into a tailspin.” His smile was self-deprecating.
“I’m not usually a fan of passive aggression,” Ed chuckled, “but in this case I admire your skill.”
Stede’s smile grew larger.
Ed hesitated. “Did you really go to Juilliard? That’s your ‘theatre program’?”
“No, it’s not. And it’s not that big a deal, although Nigel seems to think otherwise. I did a short graduate program there for playwriting. Thought it would improve my directorial skills.”
“Ah,” Ed nodded. “So he’s jealous in a few ways.”
Stede rolled his eyes. “You don’t still think he’s … you know … interested in me?”
“Uh, yeah, he is,” Ed chuckled. “All those things he’s jealous of, he also thinks they’re bloody impressive. And his attitude toward me? Nothing more than jealousy as well.” I hope I sound more certain than I feel, Ed thought. Slumming it with the babysitter. Maybe that asshole’s right. And losing my temper… “Stede?” he felt suddenly uncertain, urgent.
“Yes, darling?” Stede took his hand as he heard the concern in Ed’s voice.
“I’m sorry for losing my temper with Badminton. I should never have…”
Stede cut him off. “Nonsense,” he said. “Nigel was trying to get a rise out of you. He was trying to make you lose your temper --”
“And I fell into his trap,” Ed finished for him. “I shouldn’t have let it get to me.” He seemed as though he was about to say more, but the quick percussion of a fork clinking against a glass indicated that the presentation was about to begin.
__________________________
The presentation – really a series of speeches, and awards, and speeches, and a few more speeches – dragged on forever. Ed’s mind drifted as people spoke about “year-end this” and “towering achievement that”. Jeffrey Fettering spoke briefly about theatre finances and bookkeeping, tax exemptions for the arts, and then presented the French duo with an award in recognition of their financial contributions. Stede applauded for everyone, and shook hands warmly as people passed them. He quietly engaged each passerby in thoughtful small talk that seemed to make them feel like the centre of the world. He was effortless, and it was clear that people adored him. Ed felt … not jealous, exactly, but out of place. Doubt began to creep in again. That asshole Badminton had cut through his mind like a laser, targeting old insecurities and stirring up the faint hint of some new ones. He glowered at Badminton, and as he did he realized the man only had eyes for Stede. Ed watched as Badminton stared in frank envy and, yes, desire at Stede’s every move.
When Stede’s name was called to accept an award for his scholarship fundraising work, Badminton crossed his arms and sulked. But when Stede returned to Ed’s side after receiving the award and kissed Ed impulsively, Nigel turned a distressing shade of crimson.
“Stede, love,” Ed said loudly. More fuming from Badminton.
“Hmm?”
Ed placed a hand casually on the small of Stede’s back, and then slipped it a little lower.
“Oh,” Stede swallowed. “I did say we could leave after the presentation, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Ed confirmed, squeezing firmly.
“Edward!” Stede whispered loudly. “People might see!”
Ed looked again toward Badminton, who was now speaking in conspiratorial tones with Antoinette and Gabriel. He thought he heard “biker,” “gang,” and something that sounded like “manny” coming from the tittering cluster. High school bullshit, he thought. “Yeah, that’s the point,” he said to Stede as he pulled him even closer. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
As they passed Nigel and the others on the way to the coat check, Gabriel called out to Stede. “Leaving already, Bonnet?” he sneered. “I hope we have not chased you away!” Antoinette giggled behind her hand.
“Got somewhere better to be, have you?” Nigel chimed in.
Ed turned back toward him. Stede touched his sleeve, concerned. “Not to worry,” Ed assured him. “I’ll only be passively aggressive. You get the coats.” But Stede couldn’t look away as Ed bore down on Nigel. He watched as the cackling laughter of the trio dried up, their slack faces left hanging somewhere between amusement and trepidation. Stede could just make out Ed saying “as a matter of fact,” before he leaned in close to Nigel’s ear and whispered something too low for even Antoinette and Gabriel to hear. Nigel huffed in vague surprise and then rolled his eyes. Ed spoke again, and Nigel suddenly went stock still. The colour drained from his face and he spat out a spiteful “Fuck. You.” Ed just smiled as he turned back to Stede.
Behind him, Nigel was impatiently waving off Gabriel and Antoinette’s questions. He clearly had no intention of telling them what Ed said.
Stede gaped at him as they collected their coats. “What did you tell him?” he wondered.
“Just the truth,” Ed said. The sly gleam in his eyes undercut his attempt at nonchalance.
“Come on, tell me,” Stede insisted as they entered the elevator. “What did you say to make his face do that?”
“I just agreed with him that you had somewhere better to be.” Ed shrugged.
“EDWARD,” Stede said, feigning sternness.
“It’s a bit impolite,” Ed hedged.
“Oh, spit it out,” Stede pressed.
“I told him as a matter of fact you had somewhere much better to be,” he shot a glance at Stede. “Balls deep in my ass.”
“EDWARD!”
“Told you it was impolite.” Ed laughed. “anyway, that’s not what really got him. We’re obviously a couple.” Stede raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Nah, what really got him was when I told him it was even better than he’s always imagined.”
“Oh my God, Ed,” Stede choked.
“Like I said, nothing but the truth.” The elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor. “And you were right,” Ed added as he stepped out. “Those people were awful. Except for Jeff. I like Jeff.”
Stede followed him out. “Jeff? You mean Fettering? The accountant?!”