Chapter Text
Sunset - May 3, 2008 - Headed to a Ghost Tour
Stede followed the series of bizarre directions, based not on street names, intersections, or notable landmarks, but things like, “turn at the purple bird with a wing pointing to the southeast.” Jeffrey was more than willing to assist, leaning forward between the seats and shouting whenever he spotted their next marker.
“Oooh! This is such a delightful way to start! Can’t wait to meet the person behind such an inventive set of directions.”
“‘Inventive’ is one fuckin’ word for it,” Ed grumbled.
Stede, who was in the middle of making a U-turn to backtrack, couldn’t disagree. “They’ve certainly been assembled with a sense of whimsy.”
They pulled into a gravel parking lot in front of a small building that had clearly been converted from a house into an office. It had a ramshackle quality that hinted at lax maintenance. A wooden sign hung from a post in the yard that advertised The Revenge Collective.
“This is it,” Stede confirmed as he parked the car. “We’re supposed to be meeting someone named Frenchie.”
They made their way to the building and tried the door, but it was locked. They had an awkward moment of all looking at each other in confusion.
Stede glanced at his watch. “Hmm, we’re ten minutes early. Perhaps he’s meeting us here, exactly on time?”
“Guess we’re waiting then,” Ed said, lounging next to the door.
Jeffrey chortled. “I’m having a little amble around the house to see what I see!” He threw a wave at them and started toward the back of the property.
“I’m going to check and make sure I haven’t missed a message.” Stede took out his phone.
Frenchie had not sent anything else, but Mary had. All Stede had intended to reply back to her block of texts was: I’ll try to use the time well, but unable to help himself, he’d added: Define “dying.”
While he’d been driving them here, Mary had finally replied: he looked like you'd wrenched out his heart and stomped on it and he was still going to spend the rest of his life on a widow's walk waiting for your return
Stede: You’re sure?
Mary: omg, yes, I’m sure
Stede looked up from his phone screen at Ed. He’d anticipated that Ed would be watching the road for their missing tour guide, but he wasn’t. His eyes were on Stede, filled with a kind of unabated hunger that made Stede’s stomach flip. Stede flashed him a small smile, feeling like he was being devoured one glance at a time. How long had Ed wanted him? How long had he felt that way about Stede, and Stede hadn’t seen it?
Stede: I didn’t know. I was drunk for the kissing. I lost all of it. He just told me.
Mary: thank fuck
Mary: I couldn’t figure out why you didn’t tell me
Mary: got mad about it
Mary: thought you were hiding things so I hid things
Mary: should have known that you’d just missed it, lol
Mary: I’m bisexual btw
Stede: I’m gay. As of today.
Stede: I know as of today. Because I kissed Ed again.
Stede: I wasn’t hiding anything. Sorry I didn’t know or whatever.
Mary: congrats!
Stede: I have a lot to think about. Thank you. For saving all of us.
Mary: doing my best
Stede checked that there still wasn’t anything additional from Frenchie and then moved to stand next to Ed. He wanted to reach out and take his hand, but instead leaned his shoulder into him, the kind of thing they did all the time as friends, taking comfort in each other’s presence.
“I was texting with Mary. I told her that I was gay and that I kissed you. Again. I mean, I told her that I kissed you today,” Stede stumbled out, thinking that if he were being truthful, he would have told Mary that he’d kissed Ed a lot. And that he intended to kiss him so much more, but she’d probably gotten the gist of it.
Then again, making assumptions to this point had made quite a bit of a mess, so perhaps he should make more of an effort to be clear with everyone. He could feel the heat of Ed’s shoulder pressed to his, aware of Ed’s body, his nearness, in a way he hadn’t previously been conscious of.
“Mary said something else. Earlier. That I didn’t mention because I wanted to make sure I understood her correctly first.” Stede felt Ed shift toward him, and he wanted to turn into him even further, maybe wrap an arm around him. They’d spent so much time cuddling together on couches, and he had to wonder how he’d never noticed anything. He really was a mess.
“Yeah?” Ed asked.
“She said the morning after we kissed, and I didn’t remember, that you didn’t…” He paused. He didn’t want to use her exact words, not wanting to injure Ed’s dignity. “She said that you looked like you were suffering.”
“Suffering?” Ed asked anyway.
Maybe it had been too vague a word. “She thought you looked unhappy, and she seemed to think that I was the cause of it. That I had hurt you,” and as soon as Stede said the words, he knew they weren’t the ones that he’d meant. He was trying to work himself to the real ones: Were you only upset because I kissed you and forgot? Or were you upset because you wanted me?
“You didn’t,” Ed said quickly. “I was fucking fine. Just hungover. Not like there was anything else going on. I wasn’t you know, upset…fucking ‘suffering,’ whatever the fuck she said.”
Stede felt a rush of relief because maybe he was the most willfully ignorant person in the world, but he absolutely knew when his best friend was lying, and badly at that. He did care, and he’d as much as confirmed it by blundering through that lie.
“Hmm. Do you think she thought that because—” he began but cut off, startled by a car shooting into the lot, tossing up gravel with its wheels. It skidded to a stop, inches from T-boning the rental, and both front doors popped open.
A familiar man emerged from the driver’s side; it only took a moment for Stede to recognize the balding public kisser from breakfast. He hadn’t seen the second man before. But he had an expression that looked like a combination of shocked and squirrely. He smoothed his face into a big grin as he strode toward them.
“Heeeeyyyy, I’m Frenchie. Ghost tour guide, payment is cash upfront, as we discussed.”
“Half up front, half at the end of the tour,” Ed said without looking in Stede’s direction.
“Done,” Frenchie said.
“I didn’t agree to it,” said the other man. “What if they’re, like, shady.”
“We’re good for it,” Stede said, taking out his wallet.
“Go inside, Pete. I just needed you for the ride. You’re not coming on the tour.” Frenchie said, waving him off.
Pete was still protesting when Jeffrey returned, bounding around from the back of the building.
“Would you believe that there’s an evil effigy right here—” He spotted Frenchie and held out a hand to him, his voice dropping into a purr, “Oh, hello. I’m Jeffrey Fettering, and I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Frenchie. Lovely to meet you, and I believe you’ve found the evidence of our first haunting, the Witch of the Wood.”
“Would love to hear more about it,” Jeffrey said, still clutching Frenchie’s hand and looking up at him from under his eyelashes. “Sounds completely fascinating.”
Stede did not let his mouth hang open, but there was knowing Jeffrey was gay, and then there was seeing it in action. How could he have possibly missed that? Ed seemed to have caught some of his shock because he was grinning at Stede in a “told you so” kind of way, bumping their shoulders together again.
The sun had dropped below the horizon and the light was slowly fading in bands of orange and purple. It was beautiful and not very spooky, but Frenchie had apparently determined it was adequately dark.
“Here we go,” he said with a grin, stepping off the building’s patio to lead them around the back. They followed him in a loose group, Stede letting Ed get a few steps ahead of him so he could continue to watch him unobserved while he thought everything through.
There was a path tread through the greenery, leading into a copse of trees. In the center of them was a statue, fashioned out of twigs and wood into the figure of a woman, shaped as if she were walking into a strong wind, her stick hair whipping out behind her, skirt billowing in an unfelt gust. There was real movement captured in the form, and it gave Stede a small shiver of disquiet to look at it.
“The Witch of the Woods! Transformed by her enemies in battle and cursed to spend eternity behind our humble office. They say she still moves if you watch her long enough. She’s always reaching, trying to break herself free of the spell and take revenge on those that trapped her…or their descendants. And this is her cat!” Frenchie said it loudly and then looked around, but nothing happened.
He made an annoyed noise, swept his eyes over the clearing, and said once more, “Cat!” Nothing happened again.
From behind Stede, a voice said, “You know, I made that! Took days, but, like, it looks really cool, right?” Public kisser—Pete, Stede assumed—had returned.
“Oh, fuck’s sake, Pete, that’s your cut. How many times have I told you that you’re not allowed on the tour?” Frenchie waved him back to the building a second time, before saying, “Yeah, it's a representation, because the real one disappeared one night. They say she still walks among these trees. Her cat is probably with her doing evil things with its feet knives. We should be wary.”
Frenchie continued on the dirt path which took a wide arc past the witch and led them after several minutes to a small outbuilding. “This was the slaughterhouse of the Cannibal of the Coast.”
“Someone has a real boner for alliteration,” Ed murmured next to Stede, and Stede was unable to contain his snort of laughter.
Jeffrey stepped around both of them and moved toward the shed. “I, for one, would love to see the Cannibal’s creepy murder shed.”
Frenchie nodded, sneaking a look at their faces before he yanked the door open. There was a series of flashing lights followed by a dull red glow, and Frenchie said, “Behold!”
They all peered through the door, beholding what appeared to be a pile of sausages or maybe fake intestines and a few cutting implements dark with either rust or fake blood.
Frenchie scanned the room and cursed under his breath, though Stede thought he distinctly heard, “Jim.” He seemed to take a moment to reset before launching into a spiel about the Cannibal’s history of tricking people to come for dinner before they became dinner. He even slid in some local lore, maybe in a bid to convince them of the veracity of a story that didn’t seem particularly likely, especially in such close proximity to the Witch of the Woods.
Frenchie swept his gaze over them with another grin before saying, “This next one’s really terrifying.”
They followed another winding path to an enclosure that looked like nothing so much as an animal pen.
“'Tis the greatest terror of the sea!” Frenchie announced with a flourish. “The Killer Kraken!”
“On land?” whispered Stede to Ed.
“Still not beating the alliteration accusations.”
“You did it too.” Stede laughed.
“It’s like a virus, mate.”
Frenchie said over them, “Yeah on land. We captured it to keep the locals safe, obviously.”
“That was very courageous of you, and may I say brave?” Jeffrey was still smiling at Frenchie. “Really, thrillingly, brave. Why it’s giving me palpitations just to imagine it.” He placed his hand over his heart.
There were two spotlights meant to highlight the kraken, but Stede noted that nothing was revealed by their beams.
Frenchie studied it critically for a moment, and then said again, with more volume, “The Killer Kraken!”
“Aww, I’d love to, but I don’t think she’s feeling it. She won’t put on her jaunty hat.”
“Jaunty hat,” mouthed Stede at Ed, as a man came out of the small structure built into the center back of the enclosure.
He was followed by a black goat, who was draped in a coat sewn with four cephalopod arms hanging off of it. She bleated and butted her head against the man, who rubbed over her ears. She used that as an opportunity to nibble on the thing under his arm, which appeared to be a goat hat meant to transform her head into a bulbous shape with a monstrous beak.
Frenchie shrugged as if there was nothing to be done but to make the best of it, and said, “Kraken, of course, only appears to you as a goat because your mind could not comprehend her terrifying true form. You should be very quiet. Any noise could startle her into eating her handler.”
That, at least, appeared to be spun from something like truth, given that Kraken was currently licking her handler’s elbow. The man giggled. “Awww, come on, that tickles.” He pulled his arm away from her before setting his face into a mean look and hissing at them. “The Kraken takes what she will, like the sea! She is without mercy!”
Kraken bleated again, and even Jeffrey, who had clearly been doing his best to play along, started giggling.
“Ah, it’s okay, Fang. Obvs, we still need to workshop this a bit.” Frenchie turned to face their little group. “Got just the thing to round this up nicely. Let’s head back to the office, and you can give me a ride to our final destination.”
“Well that at least sounds ominous,” Stede said.
Jeffrey went right back to flirting, asking Frenchie questions about himself and complimenting him with a wide-eyed sincerity that seemed to be working. Stede watched his efforts for a couple of minutes before turning back to his own problems. What had Ed said in the hotel room, when he'd stopped them from going further? It shouldn’t just be me. Which maybe he really meant, but maybe it was because Stede had messed everything up by trying not to be who it turned out he very much was.
He could see a bit what Ed was trying to say. He really had been gay for roughly six minutes, and asking Ed to be with him when he was new and didn’t in any way know what he was doing was a lot. But if Ed wanted him? Maybe it wasn’t too much to ask at all. He had a lot to figure out very quickly, and time was ticking down.
###
Ed was maybe dying. The speed with which Stede had moved from I probably thought I’d just kissed my straight best friend to gay kissing his bisexual best friend was actually the most terrifying thing Ed had experienced today. The whiplash had him wrong-footed and stunned, and actually? Fuck Stede Bonnet, just a little bit, for being so entirely okay with it.
Ed had spent nearly two years knowing that this was never going to happen, that wanting Stede didn’t make him available. Until, apparently, one day it did, just that easy. And Stede, finally understanding what he wanted, had slammed his foot on the gas, ready to smash through everything and not fucking care about whatever he broke.
Only Ed was realizing that he was the thing that might break. And his sense of self-preservation, the one that he’d so frequently disregarded, was roaring back to life, screeching that this was not a hit he could take and survive. Having Stede and losing him again wasn’t something he could come back from. He knew that, could feel it etched all the way through him, almost like an ache down to his bones.
He still wanted him. Maybe he’d always been a little in love with self-destruction because part of him knew he was going to do it anyway. That, even understanding that he wouldn’t recover when Stede inevitably decided to not blow up his life and left Ed, he’d still take what he could get while he could get it, however little it ended up being.
Or maybe, maybe, just this once, he could do the smart thing, and not bash his head against this particular wall. He was fucking conflicted, and it was making him an entire fucking mess.
The universe apparently had a sense of fucking humor, because when Stede followed Frenchie’s directions to the last stop on the tour, it was a fucking gay bar. Or that’s what Ed assumed from the name The Pirate’s Booty and the rainbow flag by the door.
Frenchie said from the back, “Yeah, that’s it. Haunted as shit. Mostly by bad decisions.”
They found parking, and as they walked toward the entrance, Frenchie spun a tale about how the original owner had died on the premises, too in love with his bar to leave it, even in death. Sometimes on foggy evenings the drinks served themselves, glasses clattered together, kegs refilled with haunted beer.
Stede nodded along, abandoning his bitchy commentary, apparently enchanted by the idea of a haunted bar. Ed watched as he handed over the other half of the tour fee without argument. Frenchie pocketed it. Jeffrey winked at him and asked if the tour was concluded, did that mean he was free for a drink? Ed guessed it did, because Frenchie slipped his arm into Jeffrey’s and tugged him through the door.
Stede paused and looked over at Ed, and Ed felt he had to say it, so he did. “You know this bar is…it’s for people like me. Us. It’s uh, yeah, gay.” Fucking hell.
Stede’s eyebrows went up in surprise before delight broke over his expression. “Truly? Well then, it really is a night for queer larks! After you!” he enthused, holding the door open for Ed.
It was much more crowded than Ed expected it to be for a…wait, was it really Saturday? Okay, it was exactly as crowded as Ed would expect a bar to be past ten on a Saturday night. Just absolutely full of horny men, looking for hookups. It would be okay because Stede was dressed in his appropriate-to-Father-Bonnet finest, looking like a preppy sore thumb in a very queer space. No one would find that appealing (Ed had found it a little appealing, the first time, in a sort of “you know you shouldn’t” way).
But this was the thing he’d wanted, right? For Stede to have the opportunity to confirm that he was gay, with someone that wasn’t Ed. If this was just an experiment, he didn’t have to be the one that Stede broke by trying it out and flitting back to the safety of his comfortable life. He felt something that if he had to name it was probably nausea, but he couldn't tell if it was from considering kissing Stede or considering letting someone else kiss Stede. He could just play it by ear, let it all come out in the wash, or what the fuck ever.
He scanned the space searching to find where Jeffrey and Frenchie had settled, which was less difficult than he imagined since Jeffrey was standing and waving his hand aggressively in the air to capture their attention. They made their way over there, skirting the edge of the dance floor to the tables to its side.
“Hellooooo!” Jeffrey called. “We thought we’d lost you! But here you are after all!” Then his eyes rested on Stede, and he paused. “Oh, but here you are.” Jeffrey looked around with his eyes wide. “And here we all are. Oh!”
“I’m gay,” Stede said in confirmation with a confidence belied by the fact that he’d only said the words for the first time, by Ed’s estimation, approximately eight hours ago.
Jeffrey Fettering fucking clapped. “Oh, but of course you are! I knew you’d come around to it. Welcome to the club!” He moved around the table and pulled Stede into a hug, both arms squeezing him tight. “And Ed must be so pleased!”
Ed would like to dissolve into the floor while praying that everyone else could be as fucking oblivious as Stede. But that would be too much to ask for, wouldn’t it? Stede had implied Mary knew, and now Jeffrey was as much as saying he’d known as well. Ed had been operating on the belief it was a secret, but he was beginning to understand that perhaps Stede was the only one who hadn’t been able to see it.
He flicked his eyes over to Stede, who was stepping out of the hug, his face creased in an uncertain smile. Jeffrey looked a bit horrified, which didn’t really make Ed feel any better.
“Oh! But I’ve spoken too soon! Haven’t I? I really can be quite precipitous! Forgive me, and let me get your drinks!” He scurried away to the bar without pausing to ask what they might want.
Ed smiled at Frenchie, ready to shoot past any other potential conversation on this topic. “So you hang out here a lot?”
“You asking if I come here often?” Frenchie asked and then laughed. “The whole crew spends time here.” He shifted in his chair and then, with quick nods in the correct directions, said, “There’s Lucius dancing with Pete, Roach is sitting at the bar, there’s Jim, at a table with Oluwande, and Wee John’s got the music, which explains why he, uh…never mind. Yeah, we come here a lot.”
“Oh, but that must be wonderful!” Stede was looking around, his eyes bright, as if seeing the world as an entirely new place.
It struck Ed all over again that this was completely new to Stede; he wouldn’t even know what he didn’t know. He certainly didn't know that being queer was both difference and community, because all he’d known was that it was forbidden.
Ed had been right the first time. It was too big a responsibility, and he couldn’t do it. Shouldn’t. Then Jeffrey came back with the drinks, and Ed remembered that he didn’t have to, or at least not completely alone. He was maybe freaking out, but there were other people that Stede could talk to, and it didn’t have to all happen immediately, just the important part. This was the thing he fucking wanted, right? He needed Stede to be sure, so he would just enjoy a night out with his best friend, Stede would get more exposure, and everything would be great.
Things were not great. It had started with someone asking Stede to dance, and Ed had encouraged it, fucking encouraged it because that’s what they were here for, right? He’d smiled at Stede, nodded at him to go ahead, and had not even turned in his chair to watch him go. If he’d slid into Stede’s chair a moment later so that he could watch him dance, that was his own concern. The man had said his name was Trey, and what kind of jerk name was Trey, with his big, toothy smile, and his bright, shiny eyes, and his tiny booty shorts that Ed would definitely look better in? And fuck his cute curly mop of hair that Stede might want to touch.
Jeffrey leaned over. “Not my business, dear, and between you and me, it’s really not about to be my business because Frenchie is going to give me a ride, if you know what I mean! But! You don’t have to do it, ah, this way, you know?”
“No,” Ed said gruffly, eyes still on Stede. “I have no idea what you mean.” He stared at fucking Trey, who was currently dancing too closely with Stede. “Do you think he has better hair than me?”
“No, ducks, of course not, but you,” and on the “you” Jeffrey tapped Ed’s hand hard with the tips of his fingers, “are a hot mess.”
“Am not.”
“Are too! When did he figure it out?”
“This afternoon.”
“And how did you take that?”
Ed finally looked away from Stede to focus on Jeffrey, who was looking at him with genuine concern. “Uhh,” he said.
“So, not well. You look at me, Edward Teach, Stede is a lot of things, including somewhat clueless, but when he knows something, well, you don’t have to tell him twice. He might need a minute to really understand it, but I don’t think he’ll be going back into that particular closet. Do please ignore how much he loves closets, what I’m saying here, is have a little faith, hmm? Oh! And there’s my ride. Bye, doll! Do absolutely everything I would do.”
Jeffrey stood from the table easing around a few people to rejoin their tour guide and follow him, Lucius, and Pete out of the bar. Ed stared after him for a moment more before shifting his eyes back to Stede, who was still far too close to slimy fucking Trey and not looking the least bit straight while doing it, not even in the fucking navy trousers and button-up shirt. Stede had opened it down his chest, revealing a visible fuzz of hair that had been driving Ed to distraction. His cheeks were flushed with exertion, his grin popping his dimple, and his golden hair looked like temptation itself. He was beautiful, and Ed was going to hold his shit together.
He looked away, needing a moment to breathe, to reset and stop freaking out. But it was like he couldn't find his footing again after Stede kissed him earlier (and kissed him and kissed him, and then kissed him again). He couldn't grasp a reality where Stede kissed him with ease, where he might have taken more if Ed had allowed it. Only Ed hadn’t allowed it, had frozen at the chance, because he was scared and because he knew he didn’t deserve the things he most wanted.
But he could have this one fucking thing, couldn’t he? He deserved it at least as much as smarmy rat bastard Trey. Ed looked back in their direction, but they were gone. Stede was no longer on the dance floor, and fuck, what if he was in the bathroom getting his dick sucked by Trey, that random fucking lucky asshole? Not when it should be Ed, who was now very sure, all of a sudden, that there wasn’t anything he would like less than having it be someone that wasn’t him.
He looked around for Stede desperately, finally locating him off to the side of the dance floor, Trey’s arms around him, their lips together. It was like a flash fire; all of Ed’s lies, those most especially to himself, instantly burned and crumbled into ash. He had somehow thought that this would be for the best, but he hadn’t understood how watching it happen would ravage him.
He felt intensely foolish for not just admitting that he didn’t actually want Stede to be with someone else. Now that he was watching Trey’s fucking hand trailing down Stede’s waist, toward his ass, he found that he was filled with twin flames of desire and envy. That was his bony butt to touch, and he wasn’t going to watch someone else have it instead.
He was moving before he really processed it, cutting across the bar and coming up beside them. He tapped Stede’s forearm, who broke away from Trey. They both turned to look at him, Trey’s eyebrows up and his mouth shaped into an O that suddenly made Ed realize he probably looked as murderous as he felt.
“Need to talk to my friend,” Ed said, prepared to drag Stede away if necessary and ready to have a fight about it, for Stede to be angry with him.
He didn’t fight though. Stede, ever gracious, held out a hand to Trey, shook, and said it had been a pleasure to meet him, and then followed Ed as he stalked through the bar. They went out the door, Ed leading them around the side of the building. Stede waited, standing there silently, apparently willing to give Ed the time he needed to pull himself together enough that he could say whatever he needed to say.
“I don’t fuckin’ want that,” he finally ground out.
“No?” Stede asked with the smallest hint of a smile.
“No,” Ed said, feeling how very closely he had skirted fucking disaster.
“Good.” Stede put a hand on Ed’s shoulder, gripping him firmly enough to spin him and maneuver him against the wall. He paused for a breath or an eternity, and Ed nodded. Stede leaned in and kissed him hard and needy, with a hunger that only seemed to be growing, and Ed met him with equal fervor. Their arms came around each other, tugging each other in, holding on tight. Ed felt shot through with desire but also relief that he hadn’t fucked this up too badly.
Stede finally broke away, but brushed a hand down Ed’s neck as he placed kisses along his jawline. “I’m not the only one who’s a fool. I want you. I kissed that guy because you said it should be someone else. Do you want to know what it was like?”
“No, actually, I don’t.” And fuck Trey, specifically.
Stede laughed, and continued anyway, “It was like the milk chocolate you get at the grocery store after a holiday. Seventy-five percent off and only technically qualifying as chocolate, with a flavor more like plastic. It wasn’t brussels sprouts, but it wasn’t you. There’s no one like you.”
Ed scoffed before saying, “Bet you say that to all your best friends.”
“Only the ones I want carnally. Take me back to your room, please. I’ll take anything you’re willing to give, but I want it to be you. Only you.”
“Yes,” Ed agreed.