Chapter Text
Ed tried and failed to not feel abandoned when he didn’t hear from Stede first thing in the morning the next day. It was ridiculous! They were doing each other a favor, this was hardly the kind of situation where he was gonna get good morning texts and selfies and just-thinking-of-yous and this-meme-reminded-me-of-yous, the way Ed frustratingly found himself longing for it to be, despite his best efforts to try to retain some semblance of dignity.
He set out to keep himself busy around the house, at first, asking Elizabeth if anything needed repairing or looking at, but Elizabeth had just quirked an eyebrow at him and then laughed at the idea that, out of the two of them, he would be the one who’d be able to fix things around the little home she had single-handedly kept ship-shape and in one piece for almost 40 years.
So, Ed went for his little mental health walk. Walked away from town, puffing in irritation at himself as he climbed the steep incline of the road, then, eventually puffing from the burn in his thighs — and fine, because he just fucking wanted to — Ed turned around, and headed into town.
Ed nearly went into the bookshop, but caught himself just in time, two storefronts away, with the realization that Stede had told him yesterday that he wasn’t going to be there! Stede was having a day with his family, that term seeming to encompass not only the children, and Mary, but Mary’s partners as well. Right now, Stede was probably cutting waffles into bite-sized pieces, or cracking corny jokes that made his daughter groan and his son fizzle into a heap of giggles. God, what Ed wouldn’t give to see that.
So Ed nonchalantly breezed past Revenge Books without so much as a sideways glance, and headed into Mary and Anne’s antique store, Bits and Bobs, instead.
“Eddie!” Anne shrieked at the sight of him, coming around from behind the counter and taking a running leap at him, landing in his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist like the terrifying maniac she was.
“Annie! Jesus Christ, woman, buy a guy dinner first!” Ed laughed, twirling in a circle with Anne still koala-ed onto his body, then gently but firmly peeling her off of him as Mary came up from the back room, hands on her hips, one eyebrow quirked up, with a sly grin spreading across her face.
“Teach, how the fuck are you, man?” Mary boomed, coming in for a hug and clapping Ed on the back so hard he coughed.
“Good, good, fine, same as always, you?” Ed replied automatically, attempting to regain the ability to breathe.
Mary and Anne turned to look at each other, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“What?”
They turned back to look at him, Mary with her arms folded across her chest and a knowing smile, Anne with hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.
“Not everything same as always, you little liar! Everyone’s already talking about it — you hooked up with Stede Bonnet!?” Anne said, sounding delighted and maybe also a little surprised?
Ed felt the blood rushing to his face. Not helping.
“Okay, might have oversimplified, yeah — not hooking up, though, Annie, Jesus, we’re not two tweens you shoved into a closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven, for fuck’s sake!” Anne smothered a giggle before returning to regarding him with a mirthful but haughty expression.
“Wait, how the fuck did you two — “ Ed screeched to a halt mid-sentence. “It was Lucius, wasn’t it?”
Anne and Mary nodded at him, fucking smug little shits. Ed sighed. Really, he should have anticipated this. Should have expected to see knowing texts and comments on his Insta start rolling in within mere hours of Lucius seeing him and Stede together and confirming it was true.
Not that it was, of course! Just, that was sort of the whole point of the plan.
Mary cocked her head to the side. “You here to buy his Christmas present? God knows Stede drops a pretty penny here on a regular basis — we can definitely help you figure out some options, got a good sense of his taste at this point.”
Anne sighed. “He really is quite the lover of beauty, such a rarity among men.” She gave Ed a sidelong glance. “Wonder how he puts that to use in private, bet he’s really appreciative…”
Ed’s face was on fire. It felt like some dickhead had run up and doused him with gasoline or lighter fluid or fucking napalm and now there were flames in the hollows where his cheeks once lay. He prayed to a God he had told to get fucked a long time ago that none of his various less self-aware body parts suddenly rose to attention, as his mind flooded with images pouring in from the newly-opened door in his subconscious, linking Stede’s seemingly endless devotion to tenderness and chivalry with how that might translate in the bedroom.
Absolutely ridiculous, nonsense behavior on his part. Not like he was ever gonna find out! That particular train of thought was more-or-less a one way ticket to a sad wank-and-cry if he travelled with it to its natural conclusion, and nothing more.
Ed had taken too long to think. Anne and Mary had drawn conclusions of their own.
“Holy fuck, that good, huh? Jesus, who knew ol’ Bonnet had it in him?” Mary crowed, slapping her thigh.
Ed glowered at both of them — Anne was leaning back, taking in little high pitched breaths and wiping at the corner of her eyes, the traitor — folding his arms across his chest and tapping his foot like he was waiting for them to grow up and quickly running out of patience. When the laughter died down, Ed motioned to the interior of the shop.
“This where your fancy old shit is, yeah? Can a guy take a look around, or am I gonna have a pair of hyenas trailing me and cackling the entire time?”
Mary snorted. “Yeah, man, feel free — shit, you’re grumpy! Gotta tell your man to make some time for the two of you one-on-one so you can work out all that stress — “
“Mary, I swear to Christ — “
“Kidding! Fine, we can lay off, if you’re gonna be a buzzkill about it.” Mary’s voice turned softer, almost sentimental, which was out-and-out lunacy, considering the source. “Just happy for you — and Stede, honestly, that man has been sitting on the shelf for ages and not for lack of appeal, glad to see he’s finally coming out of his shell.”
Anne sighed. “Yeah, wasn’t sold on him from the beginning, but he grows on you — he’s an acquired taste, like olives or blue cheese or getting face-fucked.”
Ed choked as Mary simply nodded along, as though Annie had listed three things that had at least one shared aspect in common and didn’t include an odd-man-out item that featured heavily in the suggested videos section on YouPorn. He tried to think of how to respond, his brain sending back error messages as it jammed, overheated, and broke down at the combined themes of Stede and really appreciative and, Jesus fuck, face-fucking.
He gave up, affecting a moody pout and stomping into the back of the store, out of sight, where he could fan air on his face and try to put out the inferno blazing under his skin.
Almost immediately, Ed could see why Stede had become a regular at Bits and Bobs — the various little trinkets and knick knacks went together, but didn’t, all different shapes and sizes and colors, in a way that reminded him of the colorful shelves and eclectic assortment of books at the bookshop. Stede had read what seemed like most of the books there, certainly many books from each of the wide array of genres available, and to Ed’s mind that meant Stede was the sort of person who liked learning for the sake of it, finding something and figuring out what it was about, and how it worked, and why, because the finding out was the interesting bit. It was unfairly attractive, especially after years of dating boneheads who only cared about beer, their car, their dick, and not much else, though not necessarily in that order.
Ed trailed through the aisles of the shop, speeding up whenever he realized he was visible to the front through a break in the displays or on a security mirror, running his fingers along the surfaces that varied from smooth wood to cool ceramic to fuzzy wool, depending on the Bit or the Bob, whatever the fuck those were.
He came to a sudden stop at the end of the last aisle, his eyes landing on what looked like a pirate’s ship in a bottle. Ed wasn’t a pirate nut the way Stede was — he thought they were cool, because he wasn’t a fucking square, and christening his main character with the nickname Blackbeard had been one of the last truly fun parts of a job that had turned into a relentless slog over time — and he hadn’t delved into the subject further until Stede had gifted him Treasure Island the day before. He’d been up til nearly 2 a.m. the night before, completely transfixed as Jim Hawkins impulsively stole the corracle and sailed off to find the Hispaniola, only to come within yards of the pirates’ campfire and with it, the near-certainty of a gruesome death.
Mary had inadvertently leant him a big fucking hand in the fake boyfriend department — Ed did need to get Stede a present, needed to make sure Stede got him one too, lame as that sounded, because the alternative was gonna be a fuckload of questions about their level of commitment and why their gift giving didn’t match. From Ed’s limited experience, it was clear Stede was a giving gifts love language sort of person — and a words of affirmation person, and a quality time person, and an acts of service person, and fuck, Ed was going to overdose on faux affection and how was that even remotely possible? — and, not to talk himself up, but Ed prided himself on being a fairly good gift giver, too. Always remembered Izzy’s birthday, even though Izzy grumbled about the attention, and always paid close attention to the way his mom dropped what she thought were subtle hints, starting around the same time the leaves started to change, about such-and-such kitchen gadget or this-and-that gardening tool.
He held the bottle up to the light. The ship was so detailed! Little portholes and cannons, with teeny pirates running around on deck and at the helm and climbing the rigging. He could just picture Stede’s face when he unwrapped it on Christmas morning, muzzy-headed and sleepy-eyed and cuddly in his pjs, his face lighting up and his eyes going all round and wide at the sight. He’d lean over to Ed, murmur some fucking sweet compliment that would make Ed melt like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day… then he’d pull Ed in and kiss him, really kiss him, press himself into Ed, use his lips to show Ed how much he lo —
“Ah, ship in a bottle! That’s our Stede, he’s insane for pirate shit! Doesn’t have one of those yet, though — good choice,” Mary, who must have learned how to sneak up on people during a study abroad year in Sparta, chimed in from just over his shoulder, making him jump a few inches into the air. “Ha! Teach, you losing your edge? Did I scare you?”
Okay, Anne and Mary were a fun pair to get into trouble with, definitely worth the hassle for the mischief and stories that came out of it, but there was a limit and Ed had reached it early, his capacity for frustration tolerance at an all-time low.
“No, not scared, don’t get scared and yep, this is for Stede. What’ll it cost me?”
From the front, he heard Anne’s voice, “Oh love, careful the way you ask that question!” followed by an almost malevolent-sounding giggle. Mary sighed.
“She’s a little stressed, lately — need to shut the shop for a week and go on vacation, do something fun just for us, recharge…”
Ed nodded in understanding.
“... maybe a shibari retreat, or there was a fisting workshop that sounded good…”
Ed very nearly choked, again. He found himself wondering if he was going to make it out alive.
Ship in a bottle purchased and safely secured in a gift bag, Ed escaped with his life and started to make his way back home, exhausted. As he went to turn onto his street, he heard his phone ping from inside of his pocket.
Stede: Good morning Edward!
Stede: I’m so sorry to bother you!
Stede: I told Mary and Doug and Evelyn and the kids about us!
Stede: And now they are threatening to hold me hostage until you come and rescue me.
Stede: I think this is what they call a honey pot in spy stories, though you might know better than I do.
Ed’s eyes widened as they followed along the series of texts, then crinkled at the corners as he giggled at the last line. Once he got a hold of himself, though, the panic started to set in.
Ed: shit, ok
Ed: what does that mean exactly
Ed: are you saying i should come over?
Ed: not inviting myself!
Ed: just… are you?
God, Ed thought to himself. I think I’m actually getting more awful at this, somehow.
Ed’s eyes followed the bouncing dots as they jumped mockingly at the bottom of the screen for a painfully long amount of time.
Stede: typing
Stede: typing
Stede: typing
Stede: I suppose this is an invitation? Not a mandatory one! I don’t want to steal too much time away from your mother, of course.
Well, fuck.
Because, here’s the thing — Ed was of two absolutely opposite minds about this lovely little messy situation that just got dropped into his lap. On the one hand, he was out-and-out terrified to hold up his end of the bargain — the whole trade off was weighted a little more than a bit in Stede’s favor, what with him just having to charm Ed’s mom, versus Ed having to impress a minivan’s worth of people, ages seven to forty-something-plus.
But on the other… it had been almost twenty entire hours since the last time Ed had felt Stede’s body pressed up against his, nearly sixteen since he’d last felt Stede’s and his fingers intertwined together, and an entire thirteen hours since he’d last fallen headfirst into the pools of emerald and gold that Stede called eyes.
So it’s not like Ed even really had a fucking choice, when you thought about it.
Ed: nah, Ma is cramming for book club later today
Ed: was gonna just hang out and do parallel play with her
Ed: not exactly the pinnacle of bonding time, not for her anyway, she won’t even know i’m there
Ed: so
Ed: yeah, could do
Ed: text me the address?
Ed paid the cab driver — Elizabeth had nearly begged to drive him and that was all the more reason to insist on her staying well-and-fully put — and turned to face the large Victorian mansion that, for the second time in his life, was known in town as ‘the Bonnet Estate’.
As it turned out, Stede’s father hadn’t so much sold the house when he left town, as he had moved it from the ‘assets currently in use’ pile to the ‘assets available for liquidation in the event of an SEC filing’ pile in his fuck-off rich asshole portfolio, or wherever dickheads like that put their shit. Apparently, according to the series of texts that had streamed in from Stede as Ed sprayed dry shampoo on his roots and tried not to cry about bringing mostly cozy, comfy clothes and nothing nearly worthy of wearing in order to win over someone's family, Stede had more-or-less gifted this massive fucking behemoth of a house to Mary, and Evelyn, and Doug — or loaned it, Ed wasn’t exactly clear on the details — and had simply moved into the three bedroom apartment above Revenge Books instead.
Ed walked up the path carefully, warily, as though the ornamental shrubbery might lean over and bite at his ankles, holding in his hands an overflowing plate of snickerdoodles — the majority of which he had called mental dibs on for late night snacking, until Elizabeth had heard he was going to meet Alma and Louis, among others, and insisted on him not going over empty-handed.
(And, he was all but certain, in order to nab the opportunity to make an opening bid and prove her value as a prospective grandmother to Stede’s kids. God help him.)
Elizabeth had more than outdone herself. The plate was so overloaded, Ed had to shimmy over to the doorbell and ring it with his elbow, unable to guarantee one hand alone could keep it from succumbing to gravity and plummeting to the ground.
A flurry of activity seemed to begin behind the thick cherry wood front door, feet thumping around on the floor, lots of them, voices, low and high and teeny tiny, whispering and giggling, and then what sounded like someone clapping their hands together several times in a row, followed by silence.
When the door swung open, it revealed a sheepish-looking Stede, with a quintet of people behind him who looked absolutely fit-to-burst with excitement.
“Hello, Edward.” Stede sounded apologetic, fucking looked apologetic, but he looked happy, too, looked kinda like he was glad that Ed was there, and wasn’t that a fucking delusional thought, that Stede wanted a guy he’d barely known in high school to gatecrash his family holiday gathering?
“Hey,” Ed managed, holding out the plate. “Ma sent snickerdoodles.”
Right up there with ‘I carried a watermelon’ in The Annals of The World’s Most Pathetic Things to Say to Hot Guys, fantastic work, Teach.
“Fab,” Stede responded, softly, his eyes going a bit fuzzy around the edges as he kept them locked on Ed’s face.
“Mommy, are they gonna kiss?” a teeny tiny voice from behind Stede rang out. One of the women behind Stede, the brunette, grimaced and then leaned down and out of sight, replaced in Ed’s five senses with the sound of a hushed, whispered back-and-forth that was immediately identifiable by the pitch and timbre as being between a mother and her child.
Stede was rapidly turning red. Had he forgotten about hugs? Did he not want a hug? Really, Ed shouldn’t give a fuck either way, didn’t much matter if Stede’s family was less than convinced, not for Ed’s side of their agreement, so long as his mom was, and fuck was she ever sold on the whole song and dance. Practically picking out wedding china back at the house for them.
But Stede looked a bit frozen, like Ed sometimes got when things were so overwhelming that his brain just smashed its power button without a check-in and rebooted the whole system, and listen, Ed would’ve loved for the people around him to notice that, to help make sure he checked shit off the interactional to-do list he’d made before his system malfunctioned.
So Ed put the plate down on the front step — because if he fucking dropped these cookies, he had a feeling his mom and Stede’s two rugrats were gonna draw straws for who got to kick his ass first — and took one large, purposeful step into Stede’s space, arms slightly open and extended at the sides.
Stede’s eyes widened, and for a second Ed thought he’d biffed it, thought he’d cocked the whole thing the fuck up, but oh, then Stede was moving in and he was sliding his arms underneath of Ed’s, was coming all the way in and nuzzling his perfect romanesque nose into the crook of Ed’s neck as Ed’s arms slipped helplessly around Stede’s shoulders and if Ed let out a little shaky sound of pleasure, well he hoped Stede just let the matter fucking lie because how was it even better than last time?
God, he smelled good. Smelled like cedar and lavender, and coffee, and freshly shampooed hair, and just beneath it, the faint whiff of his personal, private scent, the one Ed wanted to chase to its source and drown in, musk and sweat and skin and Stede.
“Stede, I know you two haven’t gotten to spend that much time together? But it’s freezing out and if we keep the door open much longer, it’s going to double the heating bill.”
The voice belonged to one of the women, the blonde, Ed figured. Its tone was snarky and wry but fond, which from a cursory overview of the two seemed more in keeping with the blonde’s whole vibe.
Stede more or less confirmed this seconds later, sighing as he pulled free of Ed’s arms, the exhaled breath streaming across the sensitive junction between Ed’s neck and shoulder, then flooding his skin with warmth in a blooming wave of heat. “Thank you, Evelyn, please just forward me the charges — forgive me for wanting to greet my boyfriend properly when he so kindly joined us last minute?”
Ed blinked at his surroundings, his vision slightly blurred as though he’d been sleeping, feeling loose-limbed and pliant from the rush of oxytocin that released as soon as Stede’s skin had met his. Before he knew it, Stede was bending down to retrieve the snickerdoodles, then guiding him inside and shutting the door with a decisive click.
“Edward, this is Mary, my ex-wife, and Doug, her partner, and Evelyn, erm… also her partner,” Stede began, only to be interrupted by Mary, the brunette, who stepped forward with barely restrained enthusiasm practically leaping from her eyes.
“Ed! Thank you so much for coming, we are thrilled to have you! Stede has just gone on and on about you — it sounds like you two were missing each other very much. I hope it’s okay that you’re having to share him with all of us?”
Mary’s smile was warm, friendly, sweet, invested. Clearly she wanted Ed to like them, and wanted to toss Stede some extra credit boyfriend points while she was at it, with the over-the-top bit about Stede yammering on about him, as if that were —
He glanced at Stede — no real reason, fuck off, maybe he made a noise! — or maybe it was just that Ed’s eyes missed looking at him and listen, was that a crime, wanting to look at this ridiculously gorgeous fridge-shaped Adonis when he was in eyeball’s range? But when he looked over at Stede, there it was — the tell-tale creeping of a bright red flush, slowly making its way up his neck and heading straight for his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
For a moment, this felt like it Meant Something.
But the moment passed.
Stede hadn’t been out long, yeah? Hadn’t ever had a boyfriend, not one he’d brought home to his family, not one serious enough to mention when he and Ed had gone over their backstories. Ed had blushed a few times when his mom had let slip a comment he’d made about Stede or that Ed had been glowing since he arrived in town, but Ed would’ve just about keeled over and died if she’d done that after he’d just come out! Definitely would’ve at least blushed even if it weren’t true, right?
Ed had forgotten to answer.
“Ha, no, sorry, course, happy to share — he was yours first!”
Jesus Christ — that’s his ex WIFE, Teach! Way to make yourself out as a fucking homewrecker, what the fuck?!
But Mary smiled and laughed, walked forward a little hesitantly, then seemed to internally throw caution to the wind and pulled Ed into an honest-to-god hug.
“He really cares about you,” Mary whispered in his ear as she gave him one hell of a squeeze. “Can’t tell you how much it means to see him this happy. We’re just so glad he found you.”
Mary squeezed Ed a little tighter before releasing him, then stepped back, turning to Doug and Evelyn, about to introduce them but then —
“Why are your arms all scribbly?” The teeny tiny voice was back, its owner only partially visible from behind Doug. Ed rubbed the snake that trailed down his right arm self-consciously.
How to answer that?
Oh, used to be a nihilistic drunk about fifteen years back, wanted to push people away, look scary as shit, so, covered myself with a fuckload of monsters and bitey things?
Didn’t really seem appropriate, considering the audience.
Ed opened his mouth, but before he could try to answer, a second voice piped up.
“Louis, that’s so rude, you can’t just ask someone why they scribbled on themselves!” The voice was way too high-pitched and cartoony to sound as weary and exasperated as it did. “And those aren’t scribbles, they’re called tattoos, and they mean that he rides a motorcycle.”
Ed stifled a laugh, finally daring to glance over at Stede, check his expression to see if there were any clear signs about how Ed was faring so far.
Stede was staring at him, eyes as radiant as the sun, a soft smile playing at his lips.
A few seconds after their eyes met, Ed looked away, just as Stede did the same, clearing his throat.
“Did we forget something about manners with our guest?”
Alma flushed pink at this and Ed recognized it, as the color spread up her neck and reached her ears and the apples of her cheeks. It was unnerving, in a kinda wonderful way, to recognize Stede , and so clearly, in his daughter.
“Hello, I’m Alma. What’s your name?” Alma recited dutifully. Louis, not wanting to be left out and leaning heavily on the back of Doug’s leg to look around it, relinquished his hold on his stepfather’s trousers and plummeted forward, crashing bodily into Alma who squeaked in frustration.
“I’m Louis! What’s your favorite dinosaur?”
“Louis, it’s my turn!” Alma whined, prompting Louis to turn back to her and out-and-out ROAR in her face.
“If I was a velociraptor, I could eat you and then I wouldn’t have to share Dad’s boyfriend!”
And now Ed’s cheeks were turning red. Off the boyfriend talk, that was first on the list. Was too weird to come at that topic directly with the human products of Stede’s last serious relationship.
Ed took a breath, and crouched down into a squat.
“Hey, Alma, I’m Ed, s’nice to meet you — that was a very grown-up introduction. Hear you’re a famous actress, yeah?” Before the slight wobble in Louis’ lower lip could turn into a wail, Ed pushed on. “Louis, great question — favorite’s the Apatosaurus, like Littlefoot, how bout you?”
Okay, so far so good. Kids looked happier — Ed always wondered if other people just developed selective amnesia at age eighteen, the way they treated kids. Kids were full-ass people from just about birth, as far as Ed could figure, and he’d made a promise to himself as a pissed-off teen — who no one but Elizabeth seemed to listen to — that when he was grown up, he wasn’t gonna forget how that felt.
Alma and Louis were chattering over each other now, jockeying for Ed’s attention:
“I’m playing the Ghost of Christmas Present! Mom said she’s gonna let me wear her makeup and Daddy’s gonna bring me flowers just like a real actress!”
“Mine’s the Pterodactyl because it FLIES and goes WOOSH over the heads of all the tall ones super fast! Who is Littlefoot? Where is your motorcycle?”
“Okay, okay, guys, let's not overwhelm your dad’s new friend, alright?” Mary’s partner Doug jumped in, shooting Ed a friendly sort of ‘don’t worry about them’ kind of look.
From the edge of Ed’s field of vision, Stede cleared his throat, chuckling. “I’m sure Ed wants to hear all about the play and dinosaurs — Al, want to show him your costume? Lou, Littlefoot was a dinosaur in a movie when we were your age! Want to find your dinos so Ed can show you which one the Apatosaurus is?”
At Stede’s suggestions, the two lit up and fucking booked it, running out of the foyer and then up the stairs, the creaking, foot-thumping, and high pitched squabbling sounds of them as they charged up to their rooms fading out of hearing range over a matter of seconds.
Ed came out of the squat, then sucked in a sharp breath and winced as his piece of shit bum knee entered the chat with a big, fat throb of burning, twinging pain.
Stede was on him like a shot. “Darling, are you hurt?”
Ed’s head was spinning. He felt like he’d been rocketed up into the stratosphere and was now having trouble getting enough oxygen in the thin air surrounding him at this new level of elevation. Darling.
Stede didn’t seem to notice? Did he always call people darling, just like that, in that sweet, warm, worried tone, like he was about to pull Ed into another one of his glorious, perfect hugs, just did that all the time??
“Nah, just, my knee. Acts up sometimes, specially when s’cold outside,” Ed managed, then panicked slightly, glancing over at the other three. Did it seem weird that Stede asked? Most people who knew Ed knew about his piece of shit, asshole of a knee, but they didn’t know him either — maybe it was fine?
No one looked suspicious. It was probably fine.
Darling, though.
Stede worried and clucked over Ed until they got him set up on the loveseat in the family room, an ottoman pushed under his mutinous limb and a hot water bottle placed almost lovingly against it by Stede, once Doug retrieved it from the kitchen.
Ed stifled a giggle that was threatening to bubble up, one part amusement and nine parts nerves, while Stede tucked him thoroughly into a blanket, as the other three adults looked on in concern.
“I’m fine, swear — this is perfect, better than perfect. Gonna be right as rain in no time, promise, Stede, okay?” Ed tried to catch Stede’s eye. Stede looked over at him from where he was re-tucking the blanket next to Ed’s calves and sighed, giving him a weak smile.
“Sorry — didn’t mean to fuss.”
Fuck, no, didn’t mean it like that —
“Hey, no, s’great, love a good fuss! Fuss away, just don’t want to spoil the fun, that’s all!”
“Ed! Look, I’m a ghost!”
Ed turned his head to look. Alma had returned downstairs clutching a wreath covered in electric candles unsteadily to the top of her head, and was now wearing a fluffy green velvet robe.
“Hey, that’s so cool! Do the candles work?”
“Obviously!” Wild, Alma was what, eleven? Already perfected that disdainful teenage weariness that was the foundation of Ed’s entire high school vibe, incredible.
“Ed! Ed! Ed! ED!!!” Louis’ teeny voice slowly grew in volume, repeating Ed’s name over and over and over insistently and building to a full-on fucking yell as he barreled into the family room, a large plastic pterodactyl under one arm and dragging what looked like a laundry basket filled with more dinosaurs behind him, fucking amazing.
“Hey, bud, awesome! How many dinosaurs is that, like a million?”
Louis preened. “A million jillion!” He paused, seeming to reconsider. “Well, these are just — they’re just some of my dinos! This isn’t a million dinosaurs, Ed.”
Ah, well. Fuck. Now the kid thought Ed couldn’t count past ten, that wasn’t exactly ideal.
“Okay, okay, everyone! Let’s let Ed breathe, okay?” Mary raised her voice over her children as they barreled ahead into twin diverging monologues. At the third okay, Alma and Louis slowed down, then, like little magnets for attention, turned to direct the stream of verbiage at her, instead.
Ed let out a long breath. Stede lowered himself gingerly onto the cushion next to him, fluffing a pillow with a thoroughness that was absolutely unnecessary for the task, then placing it behind Ed’s head, his brows knit together with worry.
Without thinking, Ed reached out a hand and placed it on Stede’s — oh, fuck me running — gorgeously thick, solid-as-granite thigh.
“Hey.” Ed's voice cracked as he spoke. Wow, bum knee and the voice of a twelve-year-old? Get any sexier and you might knock the poor guy out. “I’m okay, I swear. Old injury, gonna warm it up, it’ll be back to mediocre as usual before you need me out of your hair.”
“Edward, I never need you out of my hair!” Stede’s voice was incredulous and insistent and something about Stede wanting to make it crystal fucking clear that Ed wasn’t an imposition, was welcome and wanted, made Ed want to ignore his dipshit knee and crawl into Stede’s lap like a fucking housecat.
Get. A. Grip. Teach.
“Exactly, Ed, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want!” Mary called out over the heads of her children, who had continued to gabble relentlessly at her throughout this as though they were the only two life forms on Earth who had no need for oxygen to continue functioning. “These goofballs have dress rehearsal in a little bit anyway, so really we’ll get out of you and Stede’s hair.” Mary’s tone was about as suggestive as Ed figured you could get away with in front of an eleven and seven year old. His face heated — at the implication, but also at the immediate rush of excitement that flooded his body at the idea of alone time with Stede.
That grip just wasn’t coming, huh?
“Ed, are you coming to our play?” Alma turned around, locking eyes with Ed.
“Yeah, Ed, are you?” Louis looked fraught at the question, like if Ed said nah, can’t, hate a play, wouldn’t dream of it, Louis might actually out-and-out cry.
“Course, wouldn’t miss it!” Ed hurried, glancing at Stede, whose expression had started to relax and was now looking at him with soft, gentle eyes that made Ed want to lean over and find out how his tongue tasted.
There are children here — read the fucking room!
“Oh, Ed, that’s great!” Mary spoke over the rush of cartoon-pitched crosstalk that poured out of Alma and Louis at this. “Maybe the kids can practice their lines for Ed? A preview of tomorrow?”
Ed opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off as both of the children shrieked “YES!!” at the tops of their lungs and ran to get their scripts, Mary and Stede and Doug and Evelyn all chuckling as they went.
The rest of the adults took seats on the larger sofa in the living room as Alma and Louis whirled around the room, dueling cyclones of noise and chaos, clearing the ‘stage’ of various toys only to run back and grab this-or-that doll or walking stick or miniature saucepan from the pretend kitchen and haul it back to use as a prop. Amid the pandemonium, Alma came to the realization that her performance wouldn’t land quite as dramatically without someone else doing the other bits of dialogue, and recruited Stede as a line reader. Stede shot Ed an apologetic but amused look as Alma dragged him off of the loveseat, before making his way ‘on stage’ and following what appeared to be incredibly particular directions on how to stand and where.
Ed sat back and let his mind wander, as he watched Stede do different adorable funny voices for Scrooge and Bob Crachit and the other Ghosts of Christmas, making Alma and Louis giggle, Alma tripping over her lines with little audible hiccups every time he did a really silly one. Let it drift away to a different world — a wholly and completely impossible one, but forget that for a second, okay? — where this was his real life. Really dating Stede, maybe for years now, and getting to be the fourth adult for these bite-sized little terrors. He imagined warm, cozy breakfasts where Stede would make them pancakes with fruit-and-bacon faces, imagined rough housing and carrousing through Stede’s home pretending to be pirates, imagined sleepy, cuddly movie nights tucked under a blanket he shared with Stede as his two children dozed off under the glow of the screen.
And then, for his own sanity, he shook that imagined world the fuck off, closed the door to it in his mind, triple locked it, and threw away the key. Because it was never going to be his.