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“Fucking fuck, fuck you!”
For a moment, Stede’s certain that Ed is speaking to him. They are, after all, the only two people in the captain’s quarters—Stede stowing some new items that he’s recently acquired, Ed attempting to repair the snapped-off legs of a chair.
He turns as a chair leg clatters to the floor. Ed’s backing up against a cabinet with thunder in his eyes, which are fixed on something Stede can’t see. The bell around his neck jingles as he moves.
“Fuck you and fuck all eight of your fucking legs,” Ed continues. “That is six legs too many, you sick fuck.”
Ahhh.
“Where is it?” Stede asks, dashing over. “I’ll deal with it.”
But Ed’s already on it. Before Stede even gets eyes on the source of Ed’s agitation, Ed’s already grabbed a glass bowl from the cabinet, darted forward, and slammed it upside-down onto one of the many cushions Stede’s been meaning to pick up from the floor.
“Gotcha,” Ed hisses—and immediately stands and backs away again. Eyes flicking over to Stede, he explains, “Little asshole was trying to get away.”
Stede bends to peer down at the creature trapped under the glass. “If it was trying to get away, why didn’t you just let it? Seems like that might’ve solved the problem better than trapping it.”
Ed shoots him a withering look. “Because then I wouldn’t know where it was.”
It’s a fair point.
The spider is definitely on the larger side—large enough that it’s a good thing Ed reached for a bowl instead of a cup. A thick body, sort of blondish. Multicolored legs. Hairy. It darts across the cushion, testing the glass, looking for an escape.
Spiders have never really bothered Stede, nor does he particularly like them. They were always simply a fact of living where he lived.
Ed, though.
“I can’t help but wonder,” Stede says, gently as he can. “If you feel this way about spiders, why do you have one tattooed on your hand? And both your feet?”
Ed blinks a few times, and Stede swears his face goes just a little bit pink. His jaw works, and after a moment he says, sort of sullenly, “Thought they’d stop freaking me out if I kept having to look at them all the time.”
Well, that clearly hasn’t worked. It would probably be indelicate to say so, though, so instead Stede asks, “Shall I squish it for you, then?”
Ed shudders. “Then there’d be, like, goo. How’d it even get here, anyway? We’re in the middle of the fucking ocean.”
“Probably when we resupplied last Thursday,” Stede says. “We were docked for several hours. And we’ll be docking again in a few days, remember? I can set it back on land—”
“In a few days?” Ed’s voice goes high. “What’s it gonna do till then? Just fucking hang out here?”
Stede does see how that might be a problem. “All right, then I think there’s only one option left.” He stoops and picks up the cushion, careful not to shift the bowl. Makes for the door, but pauses to look back at Ed, who’s begun to follow him. “You can stay here, if you like.”
“Like fuck I can,” Ed growls. “Not letting that fucking thing out of my sight.”
-
Out on deck, some of the crew are still doing the jobs they were assigned this morning—Wee John’s over there doing something with sailcloth, and Frenchie’s hammering away at something Stede can’t see—but the rest just seem to be hanging out. Some are eating, some just talking.
Except Archie, who’s standing suspended over the ocean, at the edge of a plank that’s been affixed to the side of the ship.
“Guys!” she calls gleefully. “Watch!” And then she puts her arms over her head—and leaps.
It’s the most elegant dive Stede’s ever seen. Jim and Oluwande both lean over the railing, watching, waiting—and then clap enthusiastically when a gleeful shout comes from below. Stede would clap, too, except that would probably involve letting the spider escape.
“Fuck are they doing?” Ed asks, looking around.
“Lunch break,” Stede says. Then adds, at Ed’s mildly confused expression: “A break from work? Where you eat lunch?”
“You give them a break for that? My crew would never—”
But he stops short. Stede follows his gaze; sure enough, Izzy’s sitting over by the railing, Fang beside him, thick sandwiches in both their hands.
“My crew are allowed a lunch break,” Stede says gently.
Ed makes a little huffing noise, but doesn’t comment further.
“Me next!” cries Roach, appearing from nowhere and hurling himself at the plank.
That’s when Stede has an idea.
“Can you hold off a moment, Roach?” he says, following him toward the plank, cushion still in hand. But Roach, not seeming to hear him, climbs up. Mean voice, he thinks, and tries again: “Roach, come down from there this instant. That’s an order.”
“You don’t have to say ‘that’s an order’ every time you give an order, mate,” murmurs Ed at his shoulder.
It works, though. Roach turns, sees Stede there, and obeys immediately. “Heyyy, Captain! What’s up? You want a sandwich, too?”
“No,” he begins. But his stomach rumbles. Two birds, one stone, as they say. “Well, yes, now that you mention it. Kindly go and fix me some lunch. Then you’re free to jump into the water as many times as you like.”
“Yes sir, Captain sir,” Roach says, saluting. He runs off belowdecks.
The plank is clear. Below them, Archie has swum back to the ship; she’s dripping wet, grinning kind of maniacally, and scaling the ladder easily.
Stede sets the cushion on the plank, bowl atop it, spider still trapped.
“Captain?” comes Olu’s voice. He edges toward Stede, peering distrustfully at the bowl as Jim lurks a few feet behind. “Not to pry, but, um—”
Jim sighs and steps forward. “I’ll pry. What the fuck are you doing?”
Stede draws himself up. “Disposing of a fiendish menace who’s been terrorizing the ship for…” He can’t say minutes. That’s not very scary. Hours? Days? “Weeks!”
Jim looks distinctly unimpressed. “It’s just a spider.”
Olu’s eyes go wide, and he backs up a few steps. “Yeah, I don’t fuck with those. Too many legs.”
“See, this guy gets it,” says Ed, clapping Olu fiercely on the shoulder, the bell jingling at his throat. “Too many! Fucking! Legs!”
“Why don’t you just shoot a few of them off? That always fixes everything.” The faint voice sounds suspiciously like Izzy’s, but when Stede looks over at him, he’s gazing rather pointedly out at the horizon.
Fortunately, Ed doesn’t seem to have heard.
“Indeed, far too many legs,” Stede agrees loudly. Less because he actually thinks so, more because he’d like to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “Now, let’s just…”
But now that he’s got everyone watching, he realizes a moment too late that he has no idea what his next move is. How’s he supposed to do this without tossing the cushion and the bowl overboard as well?
There’s only one thing for it. Stede climbs up onto the plank himself. Picks the spider-trap up again. Begins to walk.
Gosh, it really is quite high up, isn’t it? Now that he’s here, he can’t imagine how Archie did it—standing there right on the edge, looking down, and thinking that yes, that would be a perfectly reasonable distance to fall.
Not that he’s never jumped off the side of a ship before. And not that he’s planning on falling. But the plank is shaky under his feet, and there’s always the possibility…
Best not to think about it. Stede makes himself focus, and keeps walking.
The thing really does wobble quite a fucking lot, out here at the end. But he manages. He balances. With steady hands, he begins to slide the bowl toward the edge of the cushion. Maybe if he swipes it sideways very, very quickly, the momentum will carry the spider off the cushion and into the sea.
But first, he turns back to his crew, who are still watching him from the deck. Jim’s standing there with arms crossed, eyebrows practically up to their hairline. Olu looks vaguely uneasy. Archie slings a dripping-wet arm around each of them.
Ed looks sort of solemn and sort of murderous. He gives Stede a single nod when their eyes meet.
“Hear me, foul creature,” Stede says, loud enough to reach everyone. “You have invaded my home. You have frightened and endangered my crew. To this I say: No more! You have been justly captured, thanks to the courageous and valiant Edward… and now, by my hand, you shall die.”
With that, he swipes the bowl off the side of the cushion.
It works. Sort of. The spider does indeed fall. But so does the bowl.
So does the cushion.
And so does Stede, almost. But he manages to regain his balance just before he wobbles right into the sea, and he runs back across the plank, landing—at last!—safely on deck.
Olu claps halfheartedly, sort of like he feels that he’s supposed to. Archie claps quite enthusiastically, but then says, “Wait, what just happened?” Jim rolls their eyes.
Ed, however, comes over and kisses Stede. Right there on the mouth! In front of everyone! Which they have never done before! It’s the quickest and most chaste of kisses, but still, there are people watching them.
“My hero,” he says, with the loveliest, twinkliest smile in his eyes. He takes Stede’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Slaying monsters for me and everything.”
“I’ll slay anything you need, love,” says Stede, as they head back toward the captain’s quarters. “Just say the word.”