Chapter Text
“Are you sure blindfolding me is our brightest idea?” Stede asks, as Ed coordinates leading him and herding Ari at the same time, pulled in two different directions.
“At this point, man,” Ed tells him, “I’m committed. I— Ari, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take that shit out of your mouth—”
“See, that’s not going to help,” Stede says.
“You, watch it,” Ed replies.
“Don’t be rude—”
Ed jerks him to a stop, says, “No, I mean— Literally, watch it, there’s a step in front of you. You were gonna trip.”
“Oh,” Stede says. His face splotches pink, beneath his blindfold. It’s impossibly endearing of him. “My apologies.”
“Accepted,” Ed replies. “Stay right there for a sec.” Releasing Stede’s hand, he drops down to scoop Ari up into his arms. When his son shrieks, fighting to drop his body weight to the ground and get free again, Ed tells him, “Stay put, you little demon. Don’t you wanna see the surprise, too?”
At the reminder of the surprise, Ari’s calming again, lifting his head curiously to examine Ed. There’s so much going on, Ed can’t really blame him for being overwhelmed and scattered. He’s feeling overwhelmed and scattered, and he’s got a fair few decades on the kid. Between the new ship, and moving the crew, and getting ready for his sibling— which, Ed’s pretty sure he’ll get a brother, but Stede won’t stop arguing with him on it— there’s too much going on. Just— way too fucking much for anyone, but especially a sweet-sensitive child under two, like he is.
He gets it, he does. Stede’s blindfolded, but Ari isn’t— he fought the obstruction, and Ed wasn’t about to force him and freak him out— and there’s so much to look at.
Their new ship, the Mercy, is a great deal like the Revenge, with only a few key differences. While most of Stede’s original design has been maintained due to his personal preference and, frankly, ease— he designed a good fucking ship, in Ed’s opinion, and there isn’t much either of them wants changed— they did have to make a couple of changes.
For one thing, this ship is significantly larger. It had to be, to accommodate not only additional space for the children, but the multiple individual rooms requested by members of the crew. To Stede, it hadn’t mattered how long people stayed with them; it only mattered that they wanted to stay at all. Ed can’t even count the amount of times he heard, “This is a home for all of us,” in the process of designing and commissioning and building and assembling and moving into this ship.
The end result of all that, however, is an absolute fucking madhouse. It’s like a mystical castle from one of Stede’s storybooks, complete with all the endless passages and peculiar rooms and curiosities around every corner.
It’s exactly the kind of place Ari likes to hear about from those books, and he’s even more captivated by the living reality of such a place. The ship is a grand, strange thing. Just the outside alone overwhelms him, every time they come to visit in the process of construction; coming up the plank and inside, he’s blown to pieces once again by the completed interior, incapable of taking it all in at once.
Though they’ve visited a few times, Ari isn’t really used to the place yet. Ed isn’t, either, to be honest, nor is Stede; it’ll take time, after how long they’ve all spent on the Revenge together.
In all their visits, however, Ed hasn’t shown Stede a couple of things. A few surprises he slipped in, which weren’t easy gifts to pull off— and employed more than a bit of indulgently enforced ignorance, on Stede’s part, pretending he didn’t know a thing— still are yet to be seen, hiding behind locked doors.
“Are we nearly there?” Stede asks, practically vibrating with excitement. His hands are outstretched; he’s cautiously trying to take a step, though his eyes are still covered. “Ed?”
“You, stop that,” Ed says, stepping up quickly to catch him. “Yes, you brat, we’re nearly there.”
“It’s just an awful lot of walking,” Stede comments.
“Unbelievable.” Ed wraps his arm around Stede’s waist, as far as he can, hand sprawling against his belly on the other side. “Want me to carry you?”
“You couldn’t,” Stede replies.
“I could certainly fucking try,” Ed says. “Ari, bucko, get on my back.”
Ari doesn’t understand, for a moment, before Ed’s swinging him up onto his shoulders, guiding his hands to cling to his hair. Then, he reacts with a shriek of excitement, his chubby little legs practically crushing Ed’s head on either side.
Reaching up, he shuffles his legs down further to actually rest over his shoulders, telling him, “Try not to choke me, sweet thing. Just hold on.”
“What?” Stede asks backwards.
“Not you,” Ed replies. “Unbelievable.”
“I remember when I was the only sweet thing in your life,” Stede sighs, as if wistful.
“And whose fault is it that you’re not anymore?” Ed asks him. “Step up.”
“I thought you were carrying me,” Stede argues.
“And risk that kid falling out of you when I pick you up?” Ed replies. “Fuck, no.”
“It’ll still be a while,” Stede tells him.
“Yeah,” Ed says, “sure,” because Stede keeps saying that, but it can’t be fucking true. He remembers what Stede looked like right before Ari was born, and he wasn’t near as heavy or round as he is now. The fact that he hasn’t had this kid yet is a fucking miracle. They’ve got to be off on when they made this baby, because Stede’s fucking massive. He can’t be right.
He’s also extremely uncomfortable, has been for weeks, and makes that fact known again now with a, “Are we nearly there, please? You may actually end up meeting your daughter today if you make me stand here much longer.”
“Why?” Ed asks. “Alma coming to visit early?”
“You think you know everything,” Stede accuses him, when Ed’s guiding him forward with an arm around his back and his other hand holding Ari’s ankle, keeping them balanced.
“In fairness, I know a shitload,” Ed replies.
“I know a fair bit, too,” Stede argues. “I can tell she’s going to be special.”
“Yeah,” Ed agrees. “‘Cause she’s fucking huge. Two steps.”
Stede takes the two steps up, Ed escorting him so he doesn’t bump into the wall.
“You said ‘she,’” he replies, smug.
“You tricked me,” Ed says. “Okay, wait— Stop right here.”
Instantly, Stede comes to a stop, though he nearly overbalances in the process and sends himself skittering sideways. As it is, his ankles nearly twist into themselves; Ed catches him, keeps him from doing more than stumbling slightly.
“Easy, Captain,” Ed tells him.
“Hush, you,” Stede replies. “It’s your child that’s done this to me.”
“Oh, now he’s my child,” Ed says.
“When sh—”
“Do you want to see your surprise,” Ed asks, “or don’t you?”
“Yes!” Ari exclaims from above, finally getting a word in edgewise.
“That’s one vote yes,” Ed comments.
“Yes, please,” Stede says, tipping towards Ed sightlessly, warm pink spread across him like a sweet syrup, all smiles and anticipation. “Won’t you show me my gift, please, my darling husband?”
“Laying it on a little thick,” Ed says, “but I’ll allow it.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Stede replies. “Can I please—”
“Yes, fine, keep it together.” Ed separates them just enough that he can reach up and untie the knot at the back of Stede’s head, dropping the blindfold to the ground. He can just grab it later; his hands are full, right now. “There you are. Ta-da!”
Stede stares at the closed door in front of them.
“What is this?” he asks.
For a moment, Ed just stares at him, bewildered.
“That,” Ed replies, “is a door, love.”
He leans in, wrapping his fingers around the knob slowly before twisting it and pushing it in. When he glances at Stede, an eyebrow raised, he gets the most dramatic frustrated expression in return.
“I know how to open a door,” Stede says. “I just didn’t know what you meant.”
“Baby stole your brain,” Ed comments. He catches Stede’s chin in his hand, kisses his cheek. “I get it.”
“You’re awful to me,” Stede replies, theatrically haughty.
“Would you look around before you go disowning me?” Ed asks. He nudges Stede towards the creaked-open doorway, tells him, “Go see. It’s for you. Well, partly for you.”
“Is it also for you?” Stede asks him, before he frowns.
The frown is a strange, sour note, something that’s just slightly off, and Ed frowns, too.
“What is it?” Ed asks. He feels his heart turn over. “Need to sit? I can grab a—”
“No,” Stede insists, “I’m fine, my love, thank you.” He pats Ed’s hand, kisses the back, separates them. “Show me what you’ve done, won’t you?”
There’s a moment where Ed’s essentially forgotten where they are and what they’re doing, evaluating Stede with heart-pounding skepticism. Every time— truly, every time— Stede’s expressed even a twitch of discomfort, lately, Ed’s heart has been flying into his throat, halfway-anticipating to see their baby already in his arms.
The way Ari was born left more than a couple scars, clearly. Ed tries to be better about it, but— It’s hard. It’s fucking— difficult.
“It’s for all of us,” Ed tells him, ignoring his prickling anxiety. “Really. Just sort of a— a special kind of thing. For just us. Our family, you know. But I really came up with it for you— Or, y’know. With you in mind. Know what I mean?”
“Let me see,” Stede insists, pushing the door in the rest of the way and going in.
He’s moving with determination, ready to stride in, but he falters only a couple of steps into the room. Ed watches with his heart in his throat for an entirely different— and yet, still exceedingly similar— reason, as Stede catches himself just there and actually takes in the room, shock written across every bit of him.
This moment alone is worth the entire fucking headache of figuring all this shit out. Just sorting out the practicalities alone was a nightmare; Ed’s happy to forget about all of it and just enjoy, now. The ends justify the means, and all that.
“Ed,” Stede starts to say, then stops, choked. His hands come up, over his mouth, before they come to his throat instead, crossed to rest lightly there, stunned into stillness for a moment.
Lifting Ari up to take him back down and settle him on his hip, Ed steps up to join Stede at his side.
“What d’you think?” Ed asks him.
“What do I think?” Stede echoes, incredulous. “Ed, I— I— Ed.”
Ed can’t help smiling, leaning in to kiss Stede’s temple briefly before he looks back at the room, because— fuck, it did turn out good. When he’d first told Izzy and the ship-fellow he’d found to help them figure out how to build this in that he wanted a garden-room, he’d gotten such fucking looks, he thought he’d catch on fire. Figuring out how to construct an adapted greenhouse on a ship was one thing; building bookshelves in half of the walls in that space was nearly fucking impossible, but Ed did it. Fucking— He got an idea, and he figured it out, and he did it.
The end result is worth every bit of the nightmare it took to get here. In hindsight, it doesn’t even feel that bad, now that Ed gets to enjoy the final product. This room is beautiful, filled with lush greens spilling out and overflowing from every strip of shelf-planters, from every hanging basin, from every nailed-down flowerpot.
Everywhere Ed looks, there are bursts of color, flowers and books that appear all over. In the center, Ed’s strung up four canvas-seats, scooped hammocks that hang from the reinforced ceiling, a spot for each one of them.
“It’ll be a while,” Ed says, “before the kids can sit in those right. But we can hold ‘em in our laps until then, I figure. The other two are for Alma and Louis. I’ll put one up for Ari when he can get in it without getting crushed in half.”
Stede’s still quiet, then, fingers wrapping up in the loose fabric of his blouse until his knuckles are white. When Ed risks glancing up towards his face, he sees his eyes are bloodshot, pink-rimmed, shining.
Smiling, his own heart racing, Ed asks, “You like it, then?”
“You’re awful to me,” Stede says again as an answer, voice cracking this time. “Just— awful, Ed.”
“Yeah,” Ed says. He puts his free arm around Stede, tugging him into his side so he can kiss the side of his head, mostly getting a mouthful of hair in the process. “I’m a fucking beast.”
“Please,” Ari asks politely. Not a beat passes before, impatient, he repeats, “Please,” and jerks his full body weight, trying to get himself down to the floor.
Releasing Stede to catch Ari, Ed backs off a step, hauling the kid off his hip so he can set him down, instead. He’s still trying to get his legs to work; he hasn’t quite figured it out, yet, but he starts yanking himself along instead, doing his weird fucking— wriggle across the floor, while Ed watches with amusement and affection, making sure he doesn’t knock his head into anything.
He’s drawn back up to return his attention to Stede when he hears a shaky, broken-off inhale of a breath.
“You okay?” Ed asks him, reaching to take Stede’s arm, folding it in with his.
Stede nods, rather than speaking. Tightening his grip on Ed’s arm, he tilts into his side, turning into him to tell him, strangled, “I love it.”
Everything inside of Ed just lights up, hearing those words. Kissing the top of Stede’s head, he tells him, “I remembered all those secret fucking little— hidey-holes you put into the Revenge. I wanted to do the same thing for you. So,” he says, and motions to the room at large, “this is for you. Or, for us. Our family, I mean. You and me and Ari. And the new kid. And Alma. And Louis. You know, whoever.” Motioning back towards the door, he mentions, “There’s a screen that you can slide out in front of the door. Nobody even needs to know this is back here.”
Stede tangles his fingers with Ed’s, squeezes him tight. His voice is thoroughly shattered, tears actually spilling, now, when he says, “I— Ed. Thank you, I can’t— You did this for me? You— For us, we—” He exhales shakily, then says, “Ed, I j— We’re a real family.”
“Yeah,” Ed agrees, kissing the top of his head. “We are.”
“You’re my family,” Stede says, as if it’s all just occurring to him now, clicking into place. “You— This is my family. You love me.”
“Yeah, man,” Ed tells him, heart expanding to fill his chest, throbbing with so much adoration he thinks he could drown in it. “We love you a whole fucking lot.”
Teary, Stede buries himself in Ed’s chest, his shoulder, as best as he can with their baby between them.
“I can’t believe you did this for us,” Stede mumbles, muffled by Ed’s shirt and chest. “You’re so thoughtful.”
“You sound so upset about it,” Ed laughs.
Breath uneven, Stede says, “Well, you blindsided me.”
“My bad, love.” Ed tugs him in a bit further, following after Ari. They stop just beside the place he’s sat himself up on the floor to reach up and tug at a pot of erupting pink blossoms, so much like the ones Ed brought Stede to see on their island just before Ari was born. “Should’ve warned you, probably.”
“Yes, you should have,” Stede admonishes him. Laughing shakily, he steps back, says, “My goodness, I’m— I’m falling apart, Ed, I’m so—”
“Hey,” Ed says. “It’s okay.” He reaches, catches Stede’s face between his hands. He’s still all splotched-pink skin and uneven breathing and trembling limbs. Frowning a bit, Ed tells him, “You’re really okay, Stede, love. Take a breath, alright?”
Stede nods jerkily, letting Ed’s hands slide down his arms to catch his, winding them together. He brings Stede to one of those hammock-seats, but Stede only eyes the canvas skeptically.
“I don’t think I could get back out of this right now,” Stede tells him, one hand gliding along the side of his belly.
“You okay?” Ed asks, right back on high alert.
“Just a bit winded,” Stede tells him. “Suppose that’s to be expected, isn’t it?”
“When the kid’s about to fall out of you?” Ed eyes him, suspicious for a different heart-pounding reason, now. “I mean, I don’t know as much as you do, but— Yeah, I’d assume so.”
“Hush, you,” Stede says, swiping his hands beneath his eyes to dry them. “You’re not distracting me from this lovely gift. Nice try, but I think I’ll just continue telling you how wonderful you are.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Ed tells him. “I know how great I am.”
Stede lightly swats at his shoulder. “Humility is a virtue.”
“And I am not virtuous.” Ed nudges him, asks him, “Want me to go grab you a real chair?”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Stede says, continuing his soothing stroke over his side, torn between enjoying the room and breathing through whatever pain it is he’s feeling. The sight of him has Ed terrified; he wonders if he’d be better at this if he’d been there when Ari was born, or if he’d just be much, much worse. “Good Lord, Ed. Your child is a menace.”
“My bad,” Ed allows. He kisses his temple, says, “Stay here. Keep an eye on the other one, yeah?”
“What’s his name, again?” Stede asks.
Ed knocks his shoulder, this time. “Don’t freak him out.”
“Of course I would never forget his name,” Stede says, theatrical, dramatic. Ed can almost forget anything is off at all, when Stede’s so shining and sweet and saying to Ari, “You’re my lovely Ariel, aren’t you, darling?”
Ari lifts his head from the leaf he’s been running his fingers over to say, “Yeah,” and then continue on trying to shove the plant into his mouth.
“Ariel, my love, no,” Stede’s insisting, when Ed slips out of the room to actually go get Stede a functioning chair he won’t get trapped in. He probably should’ve thought of that, honestly; he’s basically just strung up a canvas sack, and— while he’s sure Stede will like it, once he can use it— it’s not exactly practical right now, when he can hardly even sit in a regular chair and get back up without overbalancing or just ending up trapped.
It takes a bit of hunting, through the freshly-finished ship, to find a suitable seat, but Ed doesn’t give up until he gets a good one. Something solid, and comfortable, and perfect.
Just like Stede is for him, just like their lives are, he thinks. Solid, comfortable, and perfect.
In his mind, all he can really think about is Stede, the whole time. Stede, and Ari, and Alma, and Louis, and their new baby, and their crew, and their ship. Ed’s husband, and his children, and his friends, and his family.
Though he was teasing Stede about this not minutes ago, Ed finds himself— verklempt, just at the thought of this being his family. These people he loves, who love him, who are a family with him regardless of their genetic relation to him, devoted by blood and bond. They’re all tied together just by loving each other, by wanting to be together, by supporting each other, in their own little family-community, here on board their ship where piracy and parenting are often found in equal measure.
For once in his life, Ed finds himself with a home that’s his, and a family that’s his, and a life that’s his, and he doesn’t think he could be happier. Not a bit.
Hauling the comfortably plush— and tragically, disastrously heavy— armchair back down to Stede’s green-room, Ed shoves the door in, saying, “I have an idea for a new tattoo, love. If I get my needles and shit, would you help me put the ship on—”
He stops short at the sight in front of him.
“You’re not,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.
“Obviously I do not have a choice on this one, Edward,” Stede snaps back at him.
Ari is watching anxiously from beside Stede, all his attention off the leaves and on his father. At first glance, nothing is outwardly wrong, or outrageously off, just— not right. The longer he looks, though, the more Ed can see, and his heart is racing as he lets the chair in his hands fall from its two-legged lean-drag down onto all four feet again with a heavy, resounding set of thuds.
That sound rattles Ed enough to pull his attention down, and he realizes the floor is wet. With a frown, he stares at the dark stains beneath Stede, where he’s standing in the center of this ship-bound garden with his hands on his middle and his face splotched with heat and his hazel eyes fixed frantically on Ed.
“Is that supposed to happen?” Ed asks him. It clicks, a second later, and he asks, “Shit, is that your waters?”
“Yes,” Stede answers, in the same breath that he requests, voice strung tight, “Help me,” and Ed darts forward with a jerk, hands hovering, not knowing what to do. He’s seen new babies, and he’s seen people who were going somewhere else to give birth, but he hasn’t had much occasion to be present at births himself. Besides his own birth— and Ari’s— he’s never had any reason to, and he missed Ari’s, so—
I missed Ari’s, he reminds himself. It’s with single-minded determination that he insists to himself, I’m not missing this one, I’m not fucking this one up, I’m going to help. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. Fuck. I can do this.
There’s not a doubt in his mind of whether or not Stede can do this; he’s done it three times already. He, himself, is the one who’s the wild card, here.
All I have to do is help, Ed reminds himself again, firm, resolute, unwavering.
“What do I do?” Ed asks, because he works best when he has a specific goal in mind.
Stede doesn’t seem to know what to say, for a moment, before he answers, “Would you— Can you help me sit, please?”
“Yeah, of course, f— Sorry,” he says, and lurches forward to take Stede’s arm over his shoulders, helping him to the chair he’s just dropped down, assisting him in settling himself on the cushions.
The second he’s sat, he’s already wriggling, squirming in place, trying to readjust and shift into a more comfortable position; based on the look on his face and the continued fidgeting, he’s not finding a lot of success. Ed watches him shuffle, a bit, before he practically collapses, head falling backwards, eyes tipping up to find Ed’s.
“Sorry,” he tells him.
“Fuck, don’t be sorry,” Ed replies. Stede huffs a laugh; teasing, Ed takes on an affected imitation of Stede’s voice, says, “‘So sorry to be birthing your child on the floor right now, how untoward of me—’”
“Shut up,” Stede laughs, before he’s biting out a, “Shit,” and tipping forward again, trying to coil into himself in a way that’s impossible to pull off, hands gliding along his sides to the center of his belly and back again, trying to soothe pains that won’t be soothed.
“Can that just happen?” Ed asks him. “Do they just, like— break? Like that?”
Stede’s face is a bit redder than it ought to be when he tells him, “It’s sort of a— a gradual experience.”
They’re both quiet again, for a beat. The only sound is Ari tugging himself across the floor, tiny scratches and grunts of effort as he hauls himself to Stede’s feet and wraps his arms around one calf, burying himself in the soft material of his loose trousers— stolen from Ed, he thinks, looking at them now.
“So,” Ed says. “When did they start, then?”
“It hasn’t been long,” Stede defends himself.
“Stede.”
“I thought they were the false contractions,” Stede tells him, “I swear, I just— It’s too early, isn’t it? We should still have a couple of weeks—”
“I know I don’t know as much as you,” Ed replies. “But I don’t think that a couple of weeks make a big difference, do they? And, I mean—” He gestures, with a general hand, towards Stede and the vicinity of his swollen middle. “—he’s probably, like— done, right?”
“Edward Teach, you shut up about—”
“I don’t mean anything by it,” Ed hurries to reassure him, “I don’t, I just— Are we sure we’re right? Because I think you’re ready to have this baby, love.”
There’s a moment, still, where Stede’s all frustration and agitation and terror, before something in his expression breaks. He doesn’t seem— relaxed, exactly, or relieved, but he seems like he’s gotten past some mental block, grabbing Ed’s hand— emotionally, in a metaphorical way as much as a literal one— and letting him haul him up out of the chaos.
“Okay,” Stede says, with a renewed determination. “Okay, I— I can do this. I’m ready.”
“Fuck yeah, you are,” Ed replies. He takes Stede’s hands, kneels on his good knee in front of him, tells him, “You can do this. I know you can. You’ve done it before, bunch of times. Fuck, last time you did it by yourself. This shit? This is nothing.” He kisses the back of one of Stede’s hands. “Still should’ve told me something was happening, though.”
“Sorry,” Stede replies. “A bit late for that now, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, well,” Ed says. “Next time.”
“Do not even joke,” Stede warns him. His face is going redder, again, sweat dewing up on him, beading up near his temples, starting to thicken his hair with the humidity rolling off of him. When the next contraction comes, it rolls through his body, from what Ed can see; he practically collapses backwards before he’s pitching forward, hands digging into his belly, crinkling the flowing material of his blouse over him.
“Dad,” Ari says anxiously from the space in front of Ed, beside Stede, still wrapped around his ankle. His voice is near-breaking when he asks, “What?”, digging his face into Stede’s stocking, over his shin.
“You’ll be alright, darling,” Stede tells him, downward, voice strained, while he brings his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. He exhales, carefully, then says to Ed, “Would you— Can you hand him to me, please?”
Ed hesitates before agreeing with an, “Okay, yeah, sure, if you want.”
Ducking down, pushing up, Ed climbs to his feet again, taking Ari up with him, this time. He hoists him to his hip to sweep his hair back from his eyes; turning him, then, he fits him into Stede’s side, letting him fall into his arms. There’s no space left in his lap; Stede has gotten— huge, belly swollen and body changing and— carrying Ed’s child, fucking shit, just looking at him makes him feel insane, sometimes.
Fit against Stede’s side, Ari throws his arms as far around him as he can, burrowing into his side. Ed sort of wishes he was small enough to do the same; he thinks he’d be the most comforted he could be, if he could bury in Stede like that. With the way Stede’s slowly stroking his fingers through Ari’s hair, saying something softly to him that Ed can’t even hear, it’s all he can do not to try and cram himself right into the chair with the both of them.
“Okay,” Ed says, trying to focus. “If I leave the two of you here, will you be okay until I bring back a— some sort of doctor, or—”
“Please don’t leave,” Stede insists immediately.
“Wh— Stede,” he says. “I’m not a doctor, man. I can go right into the docks and get you someone who can actually help— Fuck, I can find Roach, if you wanted, but—”
“Please,” Stede begs him, voice breaking again. Ed can practically feel his resolve cracking inside, like it’s a physical sensation. “Don’t— Please, Ed—”
“If something goes wrong, man, I’m not gonna know what to do,” Ed argues weakly, already breaking, heart leaping into his throat.
“You always know what to do—”
“Not with this,” Ed says. He feels— stupid, and useless, but he can’t help confessing, “Stede, I’m— I’m scared, I can’t do that—”
“Ed,” Stede insists. “Look at me.”
Ed does as he’s been told, lifting his eyes from Ari, burrowed in Stede’s side, to meet Stede’s eyes, connecting with him in the pink-splotch of his face.
“You can do this,” Stede says. “I need you to do this. Right? Our baby needs us.”
It’s— probably exactly the right thing to say. Stede usually seems to know what the right thing is to say to Ed, most times.
‘Our baby,’ Stede says, and Ed missed Ari being born, and he is not missing this one, and he is not fucking this up, and he’s going to do this. They need him.
Stede keeps talking, tells him, “If anything happens, you can leave then,” before he reaches up. He can’t reach Ed, trapped in place; Ed reaches for him, on his behalf, completing his stretch, stepping to tangle their fingers together, leaning over him so he can draw Stede’s hand to his cheek. Tearfully, he repeats, “Please.”
His pulse is fucking hammering, but he can’t leave Stede, like this. Not when he’s fucking— begging him not to, not after what happened last time.
It’s terrifying, and he thinks his heart is going to come out of his mouth, but Ed says, “Okay. Okay, what— What do you want me to do, then? What do you need? How fast— Is he coming now?”
“It can take time,” Stede tells him. “Alma took nearly a day, but Louis was practically an afternoon, and Ariel—” He exhales, on a rough breath; the hand that isn’t carding through Ari’s hair comes back to his side, stroking his palm in broad, flat sweeps over his belly. When he can breathe again, he swallows, then grits out, “Ari was so fast, it was over as soon as I started, nearly— Fuck—”
“So,” Ed says. “Get ready to catch, is what you’re saying?”
Stede shoots him a glare. He only has enough force and energy to keep it up for a moment before he’s folding again, snapping out a, “Fuck, o— Okay, I— Can you take him, please?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Ed says, dropping down to scoop up their son. “Hey, buddy, you’re just gonna—”
“No,” Ari insists, clinging to Stede.
“I know, love,” Ed tells him. “I know, you just—”
“No,” Ari repeats, more forcefully this time, tangling his fingers up tightly in Stede’s blouse. He’s gone red-faced, too, his big, dark eyes shining when he turns them on Ed. “No, no, no—”
“Hey, hey,” Ed says, reaching to turn his face towards him. Ari’s sniffling, tears starting to spill down his round little cheeks. Holding his son’s chin in his hand, keeping their eyes locked together, he tells him, “Your dad needs us right now, alright? We gotta do this for him.”
Ari makes a soft sound, a half-whimper. His hands release Stede’s blouse slightly, palms laying flat over his belly, staring up at Ed with those sad fucking eyes.
“He’s gonna be okay,” Ed promises him. “But only if we help him, love, right? You and me, he needs us. We’re gonna help, and he’ll be just fine, and then you’ll have another brother.”
“Sister,” Stede corrects him.
“You kidding me right now?” Ed asks.
“Dad,” Ari says, wavering, but when Ed turns back down to him, Ari’s tugging his face out of his grip to look up at Stede, instead. His fingers flexing over his belly, clearly at war with himself, he doesn’t speak any further. Instead, he just hugs him, pushing up out of Ed’s hands and throwing his arms around Stede once more.
“It’ll be okay, darling,” Stede promises him. He kisses the top of his head; Ed sees his eyes shining just the same way their son’s are, when he says, “I just need you to be very, very brave for a bit, alright?”
Ari’s tearful, still, but he lets Ed remove him from Stede’s side, hefting him up onto his own hip instead.
“Do you think he gets it?” Ed asks, sweeping a tear off of Ari’s cheek. Dropping his head onto Ed’s shoulder, he fists his hands in his father’s long hair, burying in him, instead.
“What’s happening now?” Stede clarifies, and Ed nods. “I think he knows a bit. Maybe not all of it, but he’s rather smart, isn’t he? Just like you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that one,” Ed replies. “Okay, what do we have to get? What do you need? Like— Water, or something, I’m assuming? You want blankets?”
“Help me up,” Stede says instead.
“Help you u— Okay, I can do that.” Ed shifts Ari around, tugging out the wrap around his chest to settle him into it. It’s a near-permanent fixture on his body, by this point; he puts it on when he puts on the rest of his clothes, like any other regular accessory, just— part of him, by now.
For a flash of a moment, Ed wonders how he’s going to deal with two, before he just decides— one on the front, one on the back. He can handle that, no problem.
Extending his reach, Ed says, “Alright, let’s go, love. Gimme.”
Stede gives him his hands, lets himself be shifted forward, tugged to the edge of the chair. With an arm around his back, Ed helps him stand; almost instantly, Stede’s letting go of him, reaching for the closure on his blouse, untying it so it falls open on either side of his throat, strings hanging loose.
“Do you— Okay,” Ed says, then stops. “I can— Want some help, there?”
“No, I can handle this,” Stede answers, sounding more like he’s trying to convince himself than he is replying to Ed. “You— Actually, yes, can you get water, please?”
“Water, yeah,” Ed says. “Got it. Okay, I can do that.”
With Ari fastened to his front like a talisman, clinging to his beard and staring up at him with wide eyes, Ed pushes out of the room and back into their ship. It’s a lot like the Revenge, but not exactly like it; there’s a fair bit of navigation and backtracking involved in him searching the place, but, between the two of them, they manage to turn up two stopped-up jugs of water that were already put in the kitchen, a fair load of blankets and sheets, a pillow, a bowl, twine, and a kettle.
After hesitating for another long beat in the kitchen, Ed takes one of the heavy knives off the wall-mount near the hearth. The curved blade resembles something halfway between a kitchen cutting-knife and a harvesting scythe. It’s— just in case.
Wrapping it in one of the quilts, Ed brings the whole lot back to the green-room, trying to move as quickly as possible. If he can get Stede into one of the actual bedrooms, he thinks, he’d probably be a fuckton more comfortable. It’s just a matter of moving him, which, if he’s not capable of it, Ed’s just gonna have to— help him, or carry him, or whatever it is he wants.
Shoving back into the garden, though, he quickly abandons that idea.
“Fucking shit, Stede,” Ed says, dropping almost everything on the floor. At the last moment, he thinks better of the choice; the jugs stay in his hands, while everything else tumbles into a heap at his feet.
“It’s fine,” Stede says, but it most certainly does not look fine.
Ed tells him as much, asks, “Are you sure? Because—”
“Ed, could you—” Stede requests, voice breaking halfway through. He exhales shakily, from his place sitting, spread-out, on the floor; Ed’s never seem him quite like this, stripped bare and pained-in-a-rewarding-way and animalistic, more like a wild, feral human-creature than anything put-together and fancy and fine, like he usually is.
In all honesty, looking at him like this, Ed doesn’t think he’s ever loved another person more than he loves Stede right now.
Setting the jugs aside, Ed drags the blankets over to him, asking, “What is it? Anything you want, love. I’m right here.”
Stede’s just barely holding himself up on his hands, tilted backwards where he’s sat on the floorboards. Ed doesn’t even want to know how he got down here. As it is, it takes all their concentration to coordinate getting the blankets laid out and Stede on top of them.
The second he’s settled on them, though, he’s already pushing upwards again, trying to get up onto his knees; Ed drops the pillow in front of him rather than shoving it behind him, takes his arm, helps him up.
“There you go,” Ed says, trying to keep him calm, easy, even while his own heart is in his fucking throat, ready to be vomited out onto the floor. He thanks whatever lucky stars they’ve got that Ari’s just staring, from his swaddle-wrap against Ed’s chest, rather than continuing to cry or fight. Considering it, they probably have his upbringing on their ship to thank for that; it takes a fair bit, to truly rattle him.
“I need you to check on her for me,” Stede tells him, and Ed, for a second, has no fucking clue how he’s supposed to do that.
“What?” he asks. “Mate, she’s— She’s still inside you, isn’t—”
“No, just—” Stede grips Ed’s shoulders under his hands, nails digging into the soft lilac fabric of his blouse. His face digs into the center of his chest; Ed can feel the heat of his breath when he exhales, before he whimpers out, “Fuck.”
“I got you,” Ed says, wrapping his arms around him. “I got you, just— Let go, I’m right here.”
It’s all the permission he needs, apparently, and Stede drops all his weight, lets Ed hold him up against him, fighting gravity for him; with his arms under Stede’s, he can keep him close and upright, even when he’s tensing again, every muscle in his body apparently coiling in tight as he gasps out a breathless, choked sort of cry.
“You gotta breathe, Stede,” Ed tells him.
“Fuck breathing,” Stede snaps back.
“You’re right,” Ed agrees, “fuck breathing. Still gotta do it, th—”
“Fuck!” Stede bites off, this time, and Ed rubs his back as hard as he can, digging in in long, slow circles, down to his hips, the small of his back, his sides, and up again. “I f— It hurts so much, Ed—”
“I know,” Ed tells him. He kisses the side of his head, tells him, “I know, it does. Just— Look down at Ari, okay? Focus on him, just— You got this. You are— You’re so good at dealing with the painful shit, though, Stede.” When Stede shakes his head against Ed’s chest, he says, “Yes, you fucking are. Wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t.” Kissing his temple again, hard, he feels the sweat-soaked curls beneath his lips as he speaks. “You’ve had three babies already. You’re a fucking expert. You can do one more.”
“But it hurts, Ed,” Stede laments with his shattered voice. Against Ed’s chest, Ari makes a similar sort of sound to the one Stede’s just made, a whimpering little breath. Opening his eyes, looking down at him again, Stede tells him, “I’m sorry, Ariel, darling. Everything’s okay, I’m okay.”
Ari keeps his grip up on Ed’s beard, worrying the strands beneath his hands; it’s better than him trying to tug on Stede’s hair, so he leaves him to it, lets him keep himself occupied that way.
“Tell me what I need to check for,” Ed says, trying to bring Stede’s attention back around. “What did you want me to do?”
“Help me lay down again,” Stede replies.
Without hesitation, Ed does as he’s asked, getting his arm around Stede’s back and shuffling to his side so he can lay him down. With the pillow behind him, now, laying on the floor amongst the covers Ed’s spread out for him, he runs one hand over the bare swell of his stomach, still writhing and shifting like a pained animal.
“Tell me what you see,” Stede instructs him.
Ed’s not sure what he means, before Stede shifts again, trying to move his hips despite the massive weight on top of him. Even like this, Ed can tell his stomach has dropped low, throwing off his gravity far worse.
The sight, too, tells them both this is really happening now, that this isn’t bullshit, and Ed’s heart is hammering all the harder for it.
Though it looks like it takes a lot of effort, Stede manages to spread his legs for him, separating his thighs so Ed can fit between them. He sets his hands on the insides of Stede’s knees, gently pushing in closer so he can lean in and examine between Stede’s legs, which—
Fuck, he really thought he fucking knew what Stede looked like down here, but— this is fucking different. Even seeing him get stitched up after Ari was born wasn’t quite the same as this.
“Fucking hell,” Ed comments.
“Don’t say that,” Stede snaps down at him.
“No, you’re— It’s fine, you’re good,” Ed tells him. “What— Okay, what am I supposed to be looking for, here? This doesn’t— You don’t look how you normally look.”
“No shit,” Stede says. He lets out a breath, arms giving out; he lays himself out flat, head on the pillow, and tells him, “Use your fingers and see how wide I’ve gotten.”
“Sh— Okay.” Ed takes a breath, then hesitates. “I— Should I, like— I should wash my hands first, yeah?”
Stede seems like he’s about to bite something out at him again before he pauses.
Then, he says, “Fuck— Yes, you should. Just—” He exhales, then says, “Be quick, please, would you?”
It’s not easy— it actually might be one of the hardest things Ed has ever had to do, in all honesty— but Ed separates himself from Stede so he can take up one of the water jugs. He pours some of the water into the kettle, shoves his way into the next room to light the hearth and set it over to boil. The rest of the water in that jug, he brings to Stede, cradling his face in his hand.
“Drink, love,” Ed tells him.
There’s no word of argument from him. Stede parts his lips, swallows what Ed gives him. Between them, Ari can only watch, wide-eyed; when Stede’s finished drinking, and Ed can set the jug down, he reaches, too, to move Ari around, shuffling him until he’s strapped to his back rather than his front. He can feel Ari bury himself in his hair, face disappearing into the nape of his neck, hands clenching up in long curling strands. That’s better for him, he thinks, to be there, if he has to be here at all; really, though, all Ed knows is that he’s not about to leave one baby alone in a room to deliver the other. He can do both, he knows he can. If Stede can birth them, the least he can do is take care of them.
When Ed’s scrubbed his hands with the scorching-hot water, and laid Stede back down, and gathered himself together with him, Ed says, “Okay, lemme see. I’ll tell you what’s there.”
Stede’s golden head falls back, and Ed fits himself between his thighs and examines the spread-wide entrance of him, framed in ginger-silver-blonde and all his flushed-red skin, and immediately shifts back onto his haunches.
“Okay, like—” Ed reaches down, with his clean hands, and tries to be gentle. It doesn’t matter; Stede cries out all the same, so Ed just tries to be quick instead, before he lifts his hand. “You’re, like— Sort of this?”
Stede looks at the fist he’s lifted, before Ed reevaluates and spreads his hand a bit wider to show him. Dropping his head back again, Stede half-laughs, half-cries, a hysterical sort of sound.
“Ed,” Stede says, before he swallows thickly. Forcing himself up onto his elbows, he lifts his head to meet Ed’s eyes, just past the swell of his belly. “Have you ever seen a birth before?”
“Not up close,” Ed tells him.
There’s a beat where Stede seems to be considering something before he tells him, voice shaking, “Ed, I need you— Okay, I need—” He cries again, a whimpering, strained kind of noise, before he’s falling backwards again, hands flying up into his own hair to wrap up and clench on. His voice breaks again when he asks, “Would you help me up again, please?”
Ed clambers upwards, taking Stede by the shoulders and practically dragging him upright. He gets to his knees, then climbs further, getting onto his feet.
Clinging to Ed’s shoulders, pushing his forehead into his throat again, Stede just— stands there, for a long moment. Now and then, he’ll shift, or make this tiny moan, but otherwise, he’s just— standing, and breathing, and Ed just holds him.
Then, Stede says, “She’s coming,” and runs his hand down the side of his own belly. “Fuck, Ed— I’m so sorry—”
“Hey, f— Don’t be sorry,” Ed tells him. He kisses the crown of his head, repeats, “Do not be fucking sorry. It’s about time I saw one of my kids get born, right?”
Stede laughs, wet, strained. “I suppose so.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Ed tightens his grip on Stede, squeezes his shoulders. “Don’t worry about me. You just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m gonna take care of you, man, alright? Both of you.”
This time, when Stede nods, it seems like he really believes him. He looks at Ed, and they connect, really— clicking into each other.
In him, Ed feels like he can see everything. He doesn’t know if that’s sentimental or insane or not, but Stede’s having his kid, right now, so he thinks they can be allowed a bit of sentimental insanity, for the moment.
It can only last another beat before Stede’s gritting out, “Ed, you— Please, I th— She is right there, just— You have to catch her—”
For all Ed’s seen and read and heard, he doesn’t know if they can really just fall out, like he keeps teasing, but— the way Stede says, “catch her,” has his heart racing, and he drops down to the pillow Stede abandoned, using it to cushion his own knees when he crouches, hunching to look between Stede’s thighs again.
There’s no baby falling out, exactly, but things definitely look different, and Ed realizes with a lightning bolt to the heart that he’s looking at the top of his child’s head, still inside Stede’s body, though slowly getting pushed right out of it.
“Holy shit,” Ed breathes, before he laughs, a sound that’s awed and shocked more than humored, an incredulous sort of instinctive tear that comes up from his lungs, has him smiling. “Holy shit, Stede, that’s our kid.”
Whatever Stede’s about to say to that— and Ed can only assume it was going to be sharp— disappears into a crumbling sort of cry, something that falls apart while he’s making it, and then he’s gripping Ed’s shoulders, using him to keep himself balanced upright when he squats himself down.
Letting him hold himself up, there, Ed brings his hands between his legs. He’s as careful as he can be, in probing around Stede’s entrance to the sides, finding the breadth of their child’s head.
“Okay,” Ed tells him, “I’m ready,” and Stede’s bearing down before the words have even finished leaving his mouth.
Above him, Stede is sobbing, these shredded cries where his breath is hitching on every inhale as well as every exhale. Behind him, Ari is clinging to his hair, buried in his back, hiding from the overwhelming world around him. In front of him, his child is being born, and Ed has to focus on them, for the moment, before he can focus on absolutely anything or anyone else.
It takes so much effort— and Ed thinks Stede deserves fucking awards, for enduring this for the fourth fucking time— but he pushes, and cries, and it’s only moments before their child’s head is slipping into Ed’s hands.
“Oh, shit,” Ed says. “I got ‘em, Stede, they’re right here, just— Gimme a couple more, alright?”
Stede doesn’t speak, if he even can. Instead, he just tightens his grip on Ed, nails biting through his shirt to pierce his skin beneath, and screams, and then the shoulders of their baby are pushed clear and they’re slipping free and Ed’s guiding them out into his hands, pulling them out of Stede’s fucking body and into his arms.
“Oh, shit,” Ed repeats, breathless this time. They’re still connected to Stede, inside, and Ed has to fish around for the knife he boiled in the hot water, dragging it up with the child cradled in one arm so he can tie planter’s twine around the cord and cut it, separating the two of them, grateful he never had to use the massive kitchen knife that’s still bundled up near the corner. “They’re here, they’re okay, they— Okay, I got him, Stede, you’re okay.”
Stede’s hiccuping with his sobbing, frazzled when he says, “Ed, he’s not crying—”
Ed throws the knife aside, examining their baby as quickly as he can, trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong. The tiny creature hardly even looks human, at the same time that he looks— incredible, just— incredible, dark-haired and wrinkled skin flushed past brown-red and covered in blood and smeared in this shit Ed’s never even seen before, and it’s—
It’s in his mouth, Ed realizes, and pulls his baby’s lips open so he can scoop into his mouth, and clear his throat, and then he’s screaming, crying so loudly that Ed almost doesn’t hear Stede’s sob of relief.
“Help me,” Stede asks him. “Give— Give him to me, Ed, please.”
Ed does exactly as he’s been asked, helping Stede to lay down in the blankets that aren’t covered in the— fucking gush of blood and viscera that just came out of him. Passing him their baby, he assists Stede in pulling his arms up, fitting them around their newborn, making sure he has his hold secure before he lets go.
Behind him, Ari says, “Baby,” in this wavering voice, and Ed huffs a laugh.
“Yeah, sweet thing,” Ed says. “That’s the baby. Your little brother.” To Stede, over their new son’s cries, he says, “Told you.”
“Hush,” Stede says to him. “Maybe he’s just going to be like me, then.” He swipes his fingertips over his face, clearing more of the gunk off of him. Nuzzling him in close, Stede exhales, and Ed thinks he falls in love with him a thousand times, all over again. “He’s perfect. Ed, he’s perfect, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Ed agrees, because— fuck, he is. It’s just like when he saw Ari, his chest filling with this feeling, like he’s always known him and always will and like this kid means fucking— everything to him.
“You look just like your father, don’t you?” Stede asks him breathlessly. His thumb runs along his hairline, over the slick curls plastered to his skull, his scalp, his face, stroking them away from his eyes. All over again, Stede starts crying, saying, “Aw— Hell, Ed, I’m so sorry—”
“You never have to be sorry for anything ever again,” Ed tells him. “Fuck, Stede, I just— watched you have a baby, are you kidding me? You tell me to kill a man, I’ll go do it, I don’t care.”
“No,” Stede replies. “Don’t go.”
Smiling, Ed promises, “I’m not. Don’t worry, I’m right here.”
Stede’s smiling, too, when he’s shushing their baby, trying to calm him down. Ed fits himself behind him, keeps him upright while he holds their son, and just leans his head against Stede’s, looking down into his arms at their baby.
After a few minutes, though, Stede’s shifting again, and he tells Ed, “I need your help again, Ed, love.”
“Oh, this is the— nasty shit, right?” Ed asks him. “Want me to take him?”
“Yes, please,” Stede replies.
It takes shuffling, but Ed ends up stripping his shirt off to wrap their baby in before he tucks him into the crook of his arm. Getting himself down between Stede’s thighs again, he tells him, “I’m just here to help, so. Do whatever disgusting after-shit you’ve gotta do, don’t mind me.”
“I will, thank you,” Stede says, as he’s forcing the visceral mess of— whatever was attached to their baby out of him. Like this, Ed thinks he’s— He’s just—
Honestly, he’s just a mess, all sweat-slicked and bare and bloody and raw and visceral and human, and Ed is in love with him. He is in love with the person who is spread before him now, who Ed found half-dead on a burning ship and would tear the earth apart for and has multiple children with.
It’s all so much, sometimes, and it all feels so right. Ed doesn’t think he could possibly be happier than he is right now, in this moment.
In front of him, strained, terrified, shaking, Stede says, “Something’s wrong,” and Ed’s stomach just fucking drops out.
“What?” he asks him. He’s already looking down, looking him over, asking, “What’s wrong? What are you feeling?”
“I don’t know,” Stede answers, his voice breaking so hard in the middle that it shatters. Ed’s eyes flicker up to his face, and he finds him looking horrified, and pained, coated in sweat and smeared with his own blood and shaking to pieces. His eyes find Ed’s, and he tells him, “It hurts so much still, it doesn’t— it doesn’t feel right, that’s—”
“Okay,” Ed says. “Okay, you’re okay. Hey, Stede,” he says, and connects hard with him again, waiting until Stede’s vision clears and they really meet, until Stede is truly looking at him, to continue, “You’re okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, do you hear me?”
Shakily, Stede nods. His teeth find his bottom lip, though, and Ed sees him bite a line of blood up from his own flesh on his next rock forward, hand gliding over the still-swollen crest of his belly when he curses, “Fuck.”
Dropping his eyes, needing to know what’s going on, Ed looks between his legs and feels like he’s going to scream.
Instead, he says, “Okay— Shit. Okay, Stede, can you— I know this is shitty, but can you hold him?”
“What?” Stede asks. “You can’t just say— What’s going on? What did you—”
“I think you’re having another baby, Stede, love,” Ed tells him, as calmly and steadily as he can, lifting his head just in time to see Stede’s brow crumple in confusion. Trying to at least maybe get him to smile, he says, “Told you you were massive.”
It does what he was hoping for, and Stede huffs an incredulous sort of laugh before he’s crying, saying, “Oh, fuck, Ed, I thought I was going to die, I didn’t— Oh, God, I’m so scared, I feel li— Fucking Christ, this hurts like hell—”
“Okay, let’s focus on one thing at a time,” Ed says, drawing Stede’s eyes back to him. “Can you hold him, or— I can put him in the blankets?”
For a moment, Ed thinks Stede’s going to tell him to set him aside, but then he shakes his head and holds out one arm. Still propped up on his other elbow, he wriggles his fingers, tells Ed, “Give him to me, I’ve got him.”
Ed gingerly raises up, passing their newborn to Stede as gently as he can. Their son still starts to writhe again, a new set of sobs building, but Stede’s already shushing him, the second he’s in the crook of his arm again, bringing him against his bare chest and kissing the top of his head.
“It’ll be okay, my love,” Stede manages to get out, before his voice is straining to break again. He plants one hand behind himself, the other clinging to their baby, and Ed has to change his mind, because this is the most he’s ever loved anyone before. Stede’s like a fucking— hero.
“Look at that, Ari,” Ed says. “Your dad’s the fucking shit. Motherfucking God on Earth.”
Stede huffs another laugh, lifting his head to meet Ed’s eyes again.
“Easy for you to say,” Stede huffs. “Your turn, next time.”
“Stede, love, if I could, I would,” he replies. “Anything for you. But, right now, focus, okay? Gimme one more, alright? You can do it.”
“I don’t think I can,” Stede answers. “What if I— Are you sure? That there’s another, I mean, I— You’re sure?”
Ed does him the favor of looking between his thighs, again, but it looks so much like it just did, right before the first baby was born, and he’s extremely certain he’s looking at the top of a baby’s head.
Slightly skeptical, he asks, “It— Does it not feel like a baby? Because I’m—”
Stede cuts him off, then, when he cries out, his head falling backward, the long line of his throat bobbing as he swallows thickly and tries to breathe. Tears are steadily streaming down his face, again, dripping down his neck, slicking with the sweat already shining all over him, the human mess of him.
“You got this,” Ed says. “You’ve done it before. You just did it, Stede, love, just— One more—”
“Always one more,” Stede bites out. “F— No more.”
“You’re so close,” Ed tells him, “Stede, you are so close, you can do this. I promise, I won’t put another fucking hand on you, if that’s what you want, you just gotta get this one out. You can do it, you can—”
His words vanish, then, when Stede’s sobbing again, the screams and cries of his efforts becoming little more than straining whimpers as he shoves forward as best as he can, bearing down until Ed’s guiding another tiny, fucked-up little head out of his fucking body, into his hands and out into the world.
This one starts screaming before they’re even fully out, a wet, gurgling sound that starts before it becomes a piercing cry, penetrating all the way to the marrow of Ed’s bones.
“Are they alright?” Stede asks him, barely audible over the cries.
“They’re great,” Ed all but shouts back. “Give me one more, okay? You can do this, Stede.”
He doesn’t even need the encouragement anymore, apparently, because he’s already bearing down again and then he’s pushing them on out, too, until Ed’s pulling their shoulders free and they’re spilling into his hands, tugged from Stede’s body on out into the world.
Looking down at her, Ed can’t help grinning before he tells Stede, “Looks like you were right after all.”
“What do you mean?” Stede asks him, as Ed ties her cord and reaches for his knife to slice her free, too. Like her brother, he lifts up onto one knee to pass her to Stede. “Oh, my— God, Ed, look at her.”
Ari’s yanking on Ed’s hair, when he hears Stede’s voice again, demanding, “Baby,” with this pathetic little sad voice.
“Congrats, big brother,” Ed says to him. Looking down at his bloodied hands, he reaches for a cleaned corner of sheets, swiping his palms off until he’s relatively scrubbed. Lifting up, he twists the wrap, tugging Ari up and out of it so he can actually see what’s going on. “See them, there? Those are the babies. Brother, sister. One, two.”
“I told you,” Stede insists through his raw throat. “I knew it.”
“‘Course you did, babe,” Ed replies. “Knew it the whole time, didn’t you?”
“Don’t patronize me,” Stede says, sounding every bit the teasingly-haughty man he likes to be when they go back-and-forth, like this. Ed’s heart clenches up inside his chest, and he lifts up to look at him, and—
And, fuck, his insides hurt. Even after Stede’s delivered the second— and last— afterbirth, he only seems more incredible for the experience. He’s just—
Stede is just this golden, sweat-soaked mess in front of him, holding their two tiny newborns in his arms, in his lap, against the half-shrunken swell of him, still soft and swollen and slick. His hands wrap on either side of them, small as they are, keeping them together, cradled carefully, softly, as close as he can be to them.
“Aren’t you gorgeous?” Stede says to them, so quiet. “You look like your father. So much.” He exhales shakily; he doesn’t lift his eyes, but he’s still addressing Ed when he says, “I— Ed, thank you.”
“Thank me? Fu— Thank you, Stede, you’re the one who just shit them out,” Ed replies. “Like, I actually can’t thank you enough for doing that, because that? Was fucked up.”
“They’re perfect,” Stede murmurs softly. “Aren’t they perfect?”
Their daughter is still whimpering, nearly working herself back up into screaming, but Stede presses them both in even closer to him, and they’re calming again.
“Come here, Ed, please,” Stede asks.
“M— Are you sure?”
“Yes, please,” Stede says. He lifts his eyes just a bit, looking at Ed over their little heads. “If you would?”
Ed abandons the space between Stede’s legs to join him at his side again, letting Stede fall into him, holding him up as well as their children— children, three of them, and Ed can’t even breathe right, looking at them.
“Guess you can use both of the names you liked,” Ed points out.
Stede huffs a small laugh. Lifting his head, cheek dragging against Ed’s bare shoulder, he says, “That makes things a bit easier, doesn’t it?”
“Bit, yeah,” Ed replies. Stede kisses his neck; Ed can’t help smiling. “I love you.”
“You better,” Stede teases him, before echoing, “I love you.”
“Thanks for christening the ship for us,” Ed says. There’s a sharp pinch at his throat, Stede nipping at his neck. “What? I said thanks.”
“Always so much attitude with you,” Stede replies in a dragging murmur.
“Don’t you fall asleep on this floor,” Ed warns him. “You are covered in blood, Stede.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad. It’s okay, darling,” Stede tells Ari, lifting his head slightly to look at him where he’s curled up in Ed’s lap, head on the opposite shoulder of Stede’s, looking right back into his eyes. “Everything’s alright, see? This is all— natural, I suppose— just— I’m sorry, I know it’s a bit much. But it’s— You did such a good job, Ariel, my love. What a brave boy you’ve been.”
His voice is rasping and rough. Ed kisses his temple before he leans, stretching to grab up one of the jugs near them, bringing it to Stede’s lips to drink.
Stede becomes pliant, allowing Ed to move him around. After he examines Stede— grateful to every fucking god that does or doesn’t exist that he hasn’t torn, this time— he cleans him up, bit by bit, before doing the same with the children. It’s only then that he leaves— and briefly, practically sprinting down the halls— to fetch clothes from their new quarters, here on their new ship, the Mercy.
Those clothes, he brings to Stede, kneeling to help him dress in a nightgown before they work to dress the newborns, one at a time.
Ed listens to Stede murmur to Ari, “These are your siblings, my love. Just like Alma and Louis, do you see? Your little brother, this is Hector. And this, here— Your baby sister, this is Juno. Would you say hello?”
Ari evaluates them for a long moment before dropping his head against Stede’s arm, staring them down from the side.
“Better sleep with one eye open, Hako, Unu,” Ed warns the twins. “Brother’s coming for you.”
“He just needs to adjust,” Stede tells him.
“Unu,” Ari echoes, reaching out to take his sister’s hand.
“Good enough for me,” Ed replies. He ducks down, scooping Ari up into a hug, kissing the top of his head. Ari laughs, and Ed grins, tucking him into his wrap. “You get in there, demon thing. You gotta get some rest, too, I’m thinking.”
“I can carry them,” Stede says, when Ed’s returning to his side and extending his arms. Ed just raises an eyebrow at him. “I can. Just— Help me up, would you?”
“How about this?” Ed suggests. “You give me Hako, I’ll be back in two shakes, we’ll trade off, everyone’ll be in our room in five minutes, and then I’ll go scream up on deck for someone to bring an actual fucking doctor on board. How’s that sound?”
Stede glares at him before allowing with a, “Fine. But don’t wake me up.”
“Your majesty,” Ed agrees. Stede rolls his eyes at him, his smile so fond that Ed thinks he could drown in its syrup-sweetness. “You good with Juno?”
“Unu,” Ari insists.
“Unu,” Ed corrects.
“She’s just fine,” Stede says. Downwards, to their daughter, just as dark-haired and mottled and wrinkled as her twin, “Aren’t you, you beautiful creature?”
Ed’s heart has swollen to fill his chest, he thinks, when he bows to take Hector into his arms. Stede and his names, fancy-fine names, Ariel and Hector and Juno; Ed likes them, at least, and he can give them nicknames that are like names from his mother’s family, Ari and Hako and Unu. And, from there, everything just—
They all just fit so perfectly together. Perfectly. Ed can feel it.
He can tell, too, by the way Stede’s hand lingers on their new son until he’s completely out of his reach from the floor, that he doesn’t want to be separated from his children. Even when he takes his hand back down, there’s a tremble in his fingers that doesn’t go away until he’s wrapped his hold around Juno, held against his chest.
“I’m gonna have to build a second bed for her,” Ed says to Stede, head tilting in Juno’s direction. “She and Hako can share for now, yeah?”
“We can just hold them,” Stede says, unwilling to take his eyes off Juno.
“Should’ve figured,” Ed replies.
“As if you’re not in love with them,” Stede shoots right back. He looks up to Ed without a beat of hesitation, all beaming joy, and asks, “They’re perfect, aren’t they?”
“You make perfect kids,” Ed tells him. “I gotta say, five outta five is a pretty solid record.”
Exhaling shakily, half-laughing and half-wild, Stede says, “Five children— Ed, I’m too old for this. I haven’t got the energy.”
“Well,” Ed replies. “Bit late for that, I’m afraid. Should’ve thought of that before.” Stede’s jaw cracks on a yawn, then, and Ed tells him, “Stay put, love. I’ll be right back for you, got it?”
“Got it,” Stede echoes.
Ed only pauses for one more moment, crouching beside Stede so he can press another kiss to his cheek, heart still pounding just as hard as it’s been since he brought Stede and Ari on board the Mercy and caught that look on Stede’s face.
“I love you,” he tells him, and Stede reaches up to cradle Ed’s chin in his hand, guiding him into a proper kiss, though soft and slow.
When they part, Stede whispers up, “I love you more,” and Ed grins.
“Love you most,” he replies.
Stede kisses him again before he’s willing to let him go, releasing his hold on his chin so he can straighten up again.
It does take a fair bit of effort, and more than a little creative maneuvering, but Ed manages to get Ari into his bed, Stede into theirs, and Juno and Hako on Stede’s chest, for now, while he curls up in bed and waits for Ed to call out to the docks and demand someone send over the port’s closest physician.
If the day before then was a whirlwind, Ed can barely process the day after then. He quickly realizes he’s got too many kids to strap onto himself, now, and can’t hold all three of them at once, which is frustrating. Worse than that, he doesn’t like having another person in his space, especially a stranger; he hovers the entire time the doctor he’s brought on board examines Stede, and Juno, and Hako. When he’s finished, Ed gives him a canvas-bundle of gold and tells him to forget everything he’s ever seen if he doesn’t want Blackbeard’s ship coming back for him, and the man’s terrified enough that Ed realizes he doesn’t understand that he’s Blackbeard, and it’s a jarring sort of moment, for him.
Though, in Ed’s opinion, the process goes on for entirely too long, it’s a worthwhile endeavor. One of the greatest reliefs of Ed’s life is being told that Stede and their children are healthy, that everything is okay, that he didn’t fuck up colossally in being the one to deliver them into this world, from his own partner’s body.
In all honesty, it still feels like a dream. Even after the doctor’s long gone, and Stede’s drowsing in and out of sleep, and the day starts bleeding into the night— long, long after they should’ve returned back to the actual Revenge, and Ed wonders how long it’ll take before Izzy or Oluwande or someone comes looking for them— Ed still has the vaguest sensation of moving through molasses, time jumping in fits and starts.
He’s grounded in the reality around him. In that growing dusk-darkness, he looks down at his children— at Ari, and Juno, and Hako, his three youngest, the ones he and Stede have had together— and feels something important settle into place inside his chest.
Shifting into bed, Ed moves carefully, fitting himself on the other side of Stede, settling down on his back. They ensured their bed in their new quarters would be substantially larger than the last, and Ed’s glad for it, now, when they have plenty of space for him to lay in the middle of their bed and pull Stede into his lap, going gently until they’re snuggled up together.
From his vantage point, here, Ed can see into the wall-built bassinets beside the bed, and he leans over to watch them, cheek resting on one of the many pillows stacked and propped in a heap behind the two of them.
Ed’s not sure how long he drifts like that before Stede, sleepily, murmurs, “You never got your tattoo.”
“What?” Ed asks him, voice held softly low.
“You were asking me for a tattoo,” Stede reminds him, though his voice is nearly too soft to hear. “What was it?”
It takes Ed another moment before he remembers what the fuck Stede is talking about, and then he’s smiling. He kisses Stede’s temple before he tells him, “I was going to ask if you and Ari wanted to help me tattoo the Mercy on my arm up near the Revenge. It’s a bad angle, for me.”
“We can help you,” Stede answers.
“For now,” Ed says, “You just sleep. We’ll do that another day.”
“Mmm,” Stede hums, and Ed kisses his temple again before gentling him, reaching up to stroke his hair back from his face. His touch is rhythmic, repetitive, and Stede relaxes back into it, sinking into sleep once again.
It takes a couple of days, before Stede’s hands are steady enough to hold a needle, but he— and Ari, and Oluwande, and Izzy, and— pretty much fucking everybody— work together to tattoo the likeness of the Mercy in silhouette alongside the matching tattoo Ed has of the Revenge, his home, inked into the flesh of his upper arm.
When they press it in, piercing dot by dot, Ed feels like he’s finally home. Stede says something to the same effect, tells Ed, “Now, you’ll always carry home with you, won’t you?”
Ed reaches with his free arm to guide Stede’s face up, eyes meeting his.
“As long as I’m with you,” Ed tells him, “I’m carrying home with me.”
“Romantic,” Stede admonishes him, eyes shining. Ed presses a kiss into him before Stede swats at him, returning to Izzy’s guidance in his work on tattooing Ed’s arm, and this—
This is home. He’s so happy to be here, finally, in this home they’ve made together, for themselves, and their love, and it’s— it’s everything, everything either of them has ever wanted: a home, with a family, that loves and supports and cares, unconditionally, irrevocably, with passion and abandon and fondness. It’s just— everything. This is everything.
When Ed looks over this strange family— over Stede, and Ari, and Alma, and Louis, and Juno, and Hako, and Oluwande, and Jim, and Viola, and Izzy, and Lucius, and Pete, and Fang, and Ivan, and Roach, and Wee John, and Frenchie, and Buttons, and the Swede— he finds that he loves them. This is his home, the place he wants to be; this is his family, the people he wants to be with; this is his life, the person he wants to be.
His life, his family, his home. His life is his family; his family is his home.
“I love you,” Ed tells Stede again, when he’s laying a wrap around Ed’s arm, bandaging the sluggish bleeding of his tattoo. He can’t stop telling him that, these days.
Stede ducks down to press a kiss over the bandage. His arm doesn’t even hurt, not really.
“I love you more,” Stede replies, and Ed thinks they’ll spend their lives arguing that point— and, he thinks, too, that he’d never have it any other way.