Work Text:
There had been an accident.
Ed and Stede were painting the bedroom again, this time Stede was sure the color they chose was the right one, the one that would tie it all together for sure. And Ed had been good-naturedly ribbing him, as they did, about maybe the lavender being too bright. They had been laughing and Ed had had a point to make, a point he of course had to make by gesturing emphatically with his brush, the brush he had recently dipped in the bucket. And, of course, paint flew everywhere.
“Oh, shit,” Ed had said absently, trying to assess the immediate damage to the floor and their furniture. “Sorry, love, this is a bit of a mess, hope you like some lavender on the bed, oops.” And he laughed, back still turned to Stede. This kind of thing tended to happen when they renovated together, really.
And he didn"t notice. He didn"t notice that paint had splattered all over Stede"s face and shirt. Until he turned and Stede was just standing there covered, not saying anything.
Ed"s laugh died on his lips. He"d been waiting for this. It didn"t feel great to have it finally happen.
Ed knew that look, he"d found it on Stede"s face before, when he sat alone on a beach looking at the horizon that one time. Again, their first month at the inn, when he thought Ed was carrying a dead chicken inside, as Ed had been supporting Cha Cha"s neck up the stairs. They had laughed about that one eventually, Cha Cha now their beloved little shadow. Stede had been rattled for weeks though, Ed noticed. It kept happening, over the weirdest little things.
Stede going somewhere else for a while, somewhere Ed couldn"t reach.
And so Ed waited, Stede, for all his talk it through spiel wouldn"t say a goddamn word ever. Not when it concerned himself. And Ed didn"t want to push. Afraid to spook him again. But maybe he should have. Because now they"re standing here and Ed doesn"t know what to do. All he knows is that Stede isn"t coming back easily this time.
Trying not to panic, Ed takes a deep breath. The first step maybe, is trying to clean the mess. Stepping over to their ornate bowl for morning ablutions, he takes one of the rags and soaks it thoroughly. Narrating every step in case it helps Stede to know he"s not alone. That Ed isn"t going anywhere.
“Alright, love, I"m going to clean your face now, okay?” He says approaching Stede carefully, gentle as he knows how to be. “See, here we go. The water is a bit cold, nothing to be done about it on short notice, sorry, love. Look at that, the paint is all coming off, I"m sorry about the shirt though, I know you like it, one of my favorites too, all the chest for me to look at, can"t go wrong there, can you? Nah, you"re beautiful. Ah, there we go, getting good as new.”
And he babbles on, carefully wiping Stede"s lovely face and neck as he feels Stede"s slow return. He talks about Stede"s eyelashes as Stede starts to tremble, little by little. He apologises again for being clumsy, as Stede"s eyes start moving, unfocused still. And finally, finally, he tries to smile reassuringly, as Stede"s lungs try to steal his breath away as he inhales, fighting against it.
There he is. Oh, how Ed"s heart breaks.
“Ed,” he says, in the smallest voice Ed"s ever heard from him, “Ed, I think I- I"m- I think-”
But he can"t finish, whatever he needs to say, his throat won"t let the words come out. And Ed tries to help it along, a hand against his shoulder, another trying to gather him in his arms. As Stede stammers, as he desperately tries to finally talk to him.
“Love, a breath for me?” Ed says getting Stede to look at him, finally. A hand on his cheek to help him along here, too. “Just one, slowly, yes, here we go.”
Stede does, bless him. He breathes. And then brokenly, says, “I"m ruining it all again, I"m sorry.”
And as Ed stares, uncomprehendingly, Stede"s face crumples, part by part, like a fight being painfully lost. And one devastating sob tears through his chest. And the dam breaks.
Ed realizes he never thought Stede could cry like this. And that maybe that was also a mistake. Especially as Stede keeps apologising and fruitlessly trying to get himself to stop, only for another sob to rip through his entire body. It"s horrifying.
“Hey, hey, hey, no,” Ed says as his body takes over where his mind flounders, gathering Stede"s entire body in the cradle of his own, supporting Stede"s weight as Stede slowly lets go of it. “Love, please, you have to let yourself cry, please, let go.”
And as he lowers both of their bodies onto the bed, pressing Stede against himself. Stede does. He cries so hard and so painfully Ed has no choice other than to let his own tears come down too as he soothes Stede as best as he can.
Stede has done this for him before, many times, but finally Ed can appreciate how uniquely hopeless one feels when seeing someone they love like this. And all you can offer is some comfort, whatever word you have on hand, pressing yourself against the pain and hoping it"s enough.
Eventually, though, Stede stops. Spent.
“I"m sorry,” is the first thing he says, when he can speak again, and Ed is having none of it.
“Don"t you ever apologise for crying to me, Stede,” he says, voice coming with more feeling than Ed had intended to, but Stede has his face rested in the cradle of his hands, and he"s listening, “not ever, not for this. I love you, I love you.”
Stede sheepishly lowers his eyes, and some more tears slip that Ed catches. But there"s relief in Stede"s entire body, which is all Ed wants. He kisses Stede"s forehead. And holds him against his chest again.
“I don"t think I"m doing so great, dear,” he says eventually. “Lately I keep finding myself thinking about what it means to be a man who"s worthy of you… And I figure i"m lacking.”
And at Ed"s incredulous scoff, his head comes up, Stede"s eyes serious as anything.
“Maybe my whole life has fucked me up more than I"m ready to admit,” he says brows furrowing, “And I"m afraid I"ll ruin this for us, that I"m doing everything wrong again.”
Like his last marriage he doesn"t say, but Ed knows. And as mind numbingly jealous as the thought makes him, he knows it"s not the same. And he knows what went wrong there, obviously, and what he can do to help Stede here, now.
“Love, you know you can talk to me, right?” It"s what he settles for saying, trying to emulate how safe Stede makes him feel when he drifts a little, forgets he no longer needs to swim or drown.
“I…” Stede grimaces, finally choosing honesty for himself, “I think I know that now.”
“Love,” Ed says, heart breaking all over again. “Whenever you"re ready, anything you have to say, okay? Always.”
And he means it, it might hurt him, but he"s ready now too, to be what Stede needs. He promised when he walked into this decrepit house they now call home and he"ll promise it for the rest of their days. He hopes Stede believes it too, if not in words than through their connection, as they stay interlocked on their bed, waiting for Stede"s heart to calm down.
Eventually, between the discussion about how the lavender really is lovely, and they maybe need sheets to match now, Stede reveals something hidden, long ago.
“My dad used to butcher birds in front of me when I was a child,” he says, between one inane discussion and the next. “Especially if he caught me talking to one of them like a friend, which I foolishly did time and again. Knowing the result. He always wanted me to do it too, called me soft for not having the stomach for it, for liking flowers also, as you would imagine. There was a goose once, the blood splattered on my face as he- Well.” Stede finishes with a sigh.
Oh, thinks Ed, flashing back to how careful Stede is when talking to Cha Cha, to their garden and the fresh flowers on their kitchen table every single day. To the paint hitting Stede"s face in small but overwhelming splatters just hours ago. He doesn"t think he can feel as much love as he does anger at the same time, and yet, he"s always wrong about that, isn"t he?
“So he was that much of a fucking dick,” is what Ed says, though, squeezing Stede harder to try and get his feelings across.
“Yes, he was,” Stede says after another long silence. “Not only him, of course, there were many things that made me feel inadequate, not like a real man, I guess.”
And how Ed gets it, he does. He knows how hard it is. He knows what he did about it and can now see what Stede thought he had to as well. They"re so alike sometimes.
“I"m guessing getting a big ship about it didn"t help as much as you thought then?” Ed says, smiling so Stede knows where he"s coming from and what he"s trying to do, some light for the darkness, as they do.
“Hah!” Stede laughs a little, and how nice to hear it, like watching a flower bloom. “No, not as much as I thought... Did bring me you, though.”
“Hmm, that"s true,” Ed agrees. He wouldn"t change it either, for anything. “And I like you very much, just as you are.”
Stede, wonderfully, smiles at him. There he is, Ed thinks again. God, he hopes Stede believes him.
“As do I,” is what Stede says, hand in Ed"s hair, a kiss ready for his lips.
“Let"s get you some tea and your softest nightgown, what do you think?” Ed asks when the light starts to change and the sun starts to set.
“I think I"d like that,” Stede answers with another smile, still wobbly, but getting there. “Maybe a nice compress to soothe my eyes would be lovely too.”
“Oh, love that, you have the best ideas,” Ed says, kissing Stede"s cheek.
“Sometimes I do, don"t I?”
And Stede holds his hand as they leave the bed. Nothing is ever lost or ruined with them, he hopes Stede knows.
They"ll be okay, the paint really tied the room together.