(no subject)

[leiascully]

Title: inside is not a heart, but a kaleidoscope
Wordcount: 14134
Fandom: Our Flag Means Death
Rating: Mature (consensual sexual activity)
Content notes: references to canon-typical violence
Relationships: Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Edward Teach/Izzy Hands
Timeline: Season 1
A/N: I know the kaleidoscope wasn't invented until the 1800s, but I think I can take a liberty or two in a show that includes Crocs 92002) and Pinocchio (1883). Title is from "Kaleidoscope Heart" by Sara Bareilles. I did swap out the Kama Sutra for I Modi (The Ways, 1500s, NSFW). Many many many thanks to dilkirani and coffeesuperhero for their help and support.

+ + + +

Blackbeard sat and smoked and pondered his prize. The Gentleman Pirate wore a livid bruise around his neck and a bandage tinged with blood. Not exactly the height of fashion, when it came to piracy. Generally one wanted to appear hale and hearty, or at least cool. Black didn't show blood - just one of Blackbeard's top pirating tips. Bonnet's white lacy number had been ruined, and not in a badass way. Tenacious little fucker, though.

He could definitely see why Izzy hated the Gentleman Pirate.

The aforementioned gentleman remained stubbornly horizontal and mostly unconscious under his extremely fancy covers. Every so often, he made excuses in a sad little voice to someone called Mary. Blackbeard pushed himself out of the chair - it was comfy, he should take it - and prowled around the cabin. The glass in all the little windows was so clear, and the sheer number of candles in the place made Ed feel like he was just watching little bags of money swing back and forth as the ship rolled. His mother had reminded him often enough of the cost of a candle.

"Boss?" Izzy hovered in the doorway. "The crew? If you can call them that. They're waiting for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed said, waving a hand dismissively. "Handle it, will you? Do the whole 'I am your first mate and your god you will fear me before all others' bit. They're gonna love it."

"I'm not certain they will," Izzy said. "Not this bunch. I've seen flocks of seagulls that would have made better pirates."

"Make them love it," Ed said, and went back to looking around the room. Books, from floor to ceiling: more books than he had ever seen at once. A writing desk. Fancy little sofas that could be fastened to the floor. At least someone around here had some sense of what a boat ought to be like. Still, it was a little bit magical to see a room this fancy on a ship. Like the salons he'd glimpsed through the windows and the doorways of the Big Houses his mother had worked in. It was ridiculous. It was exactly the kind of cabin a gentleman pirate ought to have.

It was a pretty piece of fuckery, this cabin. Really keeping up the act. Ed nodded approvingly as he peered around. Bonnet stirred and moaned.

"Gonna take an age to look through all of this," Ed said to him. "You've got everything, man. Whosits and whatsits galore."

The Gentleman Pirate didn't respond.

"Absolutely fascinating," Ed went on. He picked up an oddly pointy spoon. "What the fuck is this? Why's it got little teeth on the edges? Is it a combination spoon-knife? Is it a customized eyeball scooper? Is that what makes a pirate a gentleman, having bespoke instruments of torment?"

Bonnet let out a little sound like a sob.

"You're right," Ed said. "I ought to be planning for when the Spanish come to take revenge." He paused. "Get it? Because your ship's called the Revenge and also they want to fucking murder you?"

There was no response from Bonnet.

"It would have been funny, if you'd been awake," Ed grumbled. "Suppose I didn't have to send all their guys to the briny deeps or what have you, but I overreacted a little bit when I saw you dangling up there. If anyone's going to have the privilege of disemboweling you, it's going to be me. Nobody's ever told Blackbeard to go suck eggs."

He stalked back over to the bunk and sat down again in the chair. He lit his pipe again and propped his feet up on the edge of Bonnet's fancy bed to ease the ache in his knee. Bonnet sweated and fretted. Who was this Mary, then, who he'd wronged so thoroughly? Not Mary Read, he presumed - somebody would have seen the posters. He put his feet down so he could lean forward and drew one fingertip over the rope mark on Bonnet's neck. "You belong to me, Bonnet. No more of this, all right?"

Bonnet sighed, but he seemed calmer.

"I'd better go," Ed said, glancing at the sun outside the window. "This ship isn't going to save itself, you know. Not with your people in charge, anyway." He tapped Bonnet on the chest. "Don't go anywhere. That's a little joke."

He was stalling. He wanted to explore more of this cabin, turn this strange little man inside out in a non-murdery way, figure out how one could be a gentleman and a pirate. But Bonnet would have to reveal his secrets later. Ed had a boat to reconnoiter. He needed to know what kind of options the Revenge might offer for fuckery-related opportunities, and the capabilities of the crew. Izzy might despair of them, but that was Izzy's job. Ed's job was to save the fucking day, again.

"I hope you're worth all of this," he told Bonnet. "Of course, if you're not, I'll just take your ship and your crew and leave you for the sharks, possibly in pieces, so it works out for me either way."

Bonnet, naturally, said nothing, only murmured in his sleep, his brow creasing.

"Fine, be that way," Ed said, and left.

The Revenge was an elegant little ship. It had clearly been outfitted by someone with plenty of money and an eye for conveniences. He was going to enjoy making it his own. And the clouds looked like frankfurters, so that was something. They had a chance. Maybe he was scraping the bottom of the barrel of Blackbeard's magic, but there was a drop or two left at the bottom.

God, he was so fucking tired. He just wanted to lay down in that ridiculous feather bed next to Bonnet and sleep for a week or two. What was the point of being Blackbeard if he didn't get a feather bed once in a while? He'd started the whole endeavor because he was tired of being just another nameless pirate everybody spit on, and now he was Somebody, but he could never drop the act. It had been less exhausting to scrub the fucking deck. He had to be clever and terrifying and ruthless and commanding all the time. Izzy handled some of it, but Izzy didn't have the vision to be Blackbeard. Case in point: these frankfurter clouds. He just knew Izzy was going to say something dry and cutting about how they were just clouds. Izzy had no respect for the fundamentals of fuckery.

Ed took a deep breath and let the sea steady him. When Bonnet woke up, things would be different. He could read it in the wind, in the way the waves lapped and splashed against the hull of the Revenge. Izzy hated when he said things like that, because Izzy didn't believe in signs and wonders, but Edward knew it in his bones. He drew his scrap of silk out of his inside pocket and twisted it around his fingers. Bonnet would show him how to have fine things, or he would take them. It was simple.

He went back to Bonnet's cabin. Just to look at all the potential plunder, of course: the chairs and the armoires and the yards of gleaming curtains. Bonnet was still out, still whimpering as he tossed and turned. Ed perched on the edge of the bunk. The feather mattress was as soft as he'd hoped it would be. He braced one arm on the other side of Bonnet and leaned in, examining the rings on Bonnet's fingers. They'd fetch a pretty penny, if he didn't keep them as souvenirs. He rather fancied the look of them. Blackbeard could use a ring with a dark stone. It was a statement piece. And it would make a statement if he took it off the hand of the Gentlemen Pirate, so it was a double win.

The Gentleman Pirate. Now there was a conceit. It implied a history. Edward might have been born a poor lad in a little house in the dodgy end of a sad little town, but Blackbeard had been born at sea. That was the legend of it all. His father was the lightning and his mother was the welcoming waves. There were no gentlemen on the water. Kings and queens, maybe, but not gentlemen. Bonnet could never fully leave the land — land was what made him a gentleman. He was rooted to it, like a lighthouse on a promontory.

And then Bonnet woke up, and it all got complicated, and more complicated, and then very simple (but completely fucked), and then complicated again, and then: a miracle. A lighthouse, where there was no lighthouse. It was all smoke and mirrors, or fire and mirrors, but it worked somehow. When the sun rose, the light gleamed like the marmalade Ed was eating. He had riches and he had marmalade and he had, maybe, sort of, almost, a friend.

Stede Bonnet was a passable gentleman and a terrible pirate. He was so very out of his element that Ed couldn't help liking him. It didn't hurt that Stede looked at him like Ed had hung the moon in the sky for their mutual enjoyment. Ed hadn't felt anything like that in a long time. Even Izzy's devotion was conditional, and not terribly enjoyable. Stede's admiration felt like the cashmere Ed had found in his cabin: sleek and luxurious, something he wanted to wrap himself in all the time.

It was a shame Stede had what Blackbeard wanted. They could have enacted such wonderful fuckery together. But whatever he said to Izzy, Blackbeard couldn't bear to off Stede yet. If he was going to be Stede, he had to study him, didn't he?

+ + + +

"Dressing is pageantry," Stede said.

Ed frowned. "I thought dining was pageantry."

"They're both pageantry," Stede assured him. "It's pageantry all the way down."

"If you say so," Ed said dubiously.

"Trust me," Stede said. "If there's anything I know, it's how deep the pettiness of the aristocracy goes. And the petticoats. But we'll get you looking as polished as any of them." He stepped back and looked Ed over. "You might want to start by taking your top off."

"All right," Ed said, starting on his buckles. "Why?"

"I think it will ease the process generally," Stede said, and Ed almost laughed. Here was a man telling him to get his kit off, who gave him a onceover that had absolutely no heat in it. Stede seemed oblivious to any kind of erotic undertones, despite the fact that he was constantly saying things that Ed would have interpreted quite differently if Stede had been, well, literally anyone else. It was like Stede didn't even realize that that sort of tension could exist between two men.

"Shall I fix your hair?" Stede asked. "Style your hair, I mean?"

Ed touched his hair defensively. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, nothing," Stede assured him. "It's lovely. So much body and volume! And the way you wear it - well, it's very flattering. Adds to the mystique. I can see why people imagine you as a cloud of smoke with burning eyes."

Ed stroked his beard, pleased. "That is the best one, yeah. Completely overstated, but it's got a flair to it."

"It's just that the current fashion among this group of people is to wear wigs," Stede explained. "Very coiffed, very formulaic. It's all artifice, part of the pageantry. You'll stand out if you wear your hair the way it naturally is."

"Isn't that good?" Ed frowned and shrugged off the last of his leathers. He stood in front of Stede, wearing his undershirt.

"Perhaps not at this particular party," Stede said gently. He waved one finger to indicate the undershirt should go too, and Ed stripped it off and tossed it over a chair. "These people tend to seize on any little detail as a reason to exclude people. Passive-aggression, you know. But I believe I can create an approximation of a popular style using your hair, if you'd like."

"Fine, yeah," Ed said absently, watching the way Stede studied him. In his element, Stede was attractively deft.

"Yes?" Stede asked.

"In for a penny," Ed said. "It's just a hairstyle. How does it work?"

"Well, you sit there, and I'll start by brushing your hair," Stede said. "How does that sound?"

"Sounds fine," Ed said, as if he had his hair brushed on the weekly.

"I might add a little oil, to give it shine and keep it sleek," Stede said. "Would you prefer lavender or sandalwood?"

"Surprise me," Ed said. He listened to Stede bustling around collecting whatever it was. It was a peaceful domestic noise, the kind he hadn't heard in a long time. And then Stede was standing behind him again.

"Ready?"

"Are you going to ask every time you touch me?" Ed said, and there was a little frisson he couldn't explain. Oblivious and frilly wasn't his type, after all.

"Probably," Stede admitted. "You are a bit stabby."

"I can be, I can be," Ed allowed. "But you have permission. Go on, have your way with me."

"All right, I will," Stede said, and then his hands were in Ed's hair, gentle as anything. Ed couldn't remember the last time he'd let anyone stand behind him for any length of time, but then Stede didn't seem too terribly likely to whip out a knife and bring the blade to kiss the skin of Ed's throat. One of these days, it would be the other way around, but not today. Instead, the bristles of a brush ran lightly over the top of Ed's hair. With each stroke, they sank a little deeper until they were scratching pleasantly against Ed's skin. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Nobody but himself had brushed his hair since his mother, and his mother hadn't been so tender about it. Somehow when Stede wielded the brush, the way the bristles rasped against Ed's scalp was almost unbearably delicious. Ed shivered.

"Cold?" Stede said, and without waiting for an answer, draped his rather exquisite cashmere over Ed's shoulders.

Ed refrained from reminding him that they were in fact in the bloody tropics, and no, he wasn't cold. Instead, he drew the cashmere closer around himself. It was so light and so soft, smoother than any fabric he'd touched.

"Well now," Stede said softly. He gathered Ed's hair in his hands, his touch gentle. Ed could feel the heft differently when Stede was holding the mass of it. "I know you usually wear it partly pulled back, but it will be more fashionable to wear it all up. What do you think of that?"

"Have your way with me, Stede Bonnet," Ed said, eyes still closed. "I am at your mercy."

"Isn't that something," Stede said, sounding pleased. "The dread pirate Blackbeard, putty in my hands."

"Mm," Ed said. Stede's hands and the brush smoothed and finessed his hair. The oil had come out at some point and the whole room smelled of lavender. The cashmere was like a dream against his skin. Ed couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed. He'd never given much thought to heaven, knowing from boyhood that he was destined for the other side, but maybe this was something like it: swathed in the finest fabric he'd ever felt, with Stede tending to him as if he deserved to be cosseted and cherished. As if he were the treasure.

If he didn't kill Stede, maybe he'd keep him around as some sort of butler or whatever it was that rich people had.

"Would you mind holding this?" Stede asked. Ed opened his eyes. Stede was dangling a thin strip of leather over his shoulder. "It's the tricky bit now. I need both hands."

"Suppose I can," Ed said. Stede tutted to himself as he worked. He put his hand back over Ed's shoulder at one point and gestured for the tie. Ed tried to imagine what he would look like, when it was finished.

"There," Stede said at last. He sounded very satisfied. Ed reached for the glass and held it up. Stede had shaped his hair into a regal-looking bun that sat proudly at the back of his head. The rest of his hair cascaded down in the back like a tiny cloak.

"I can probably convince Oluwande and Jim to go and pick some flowers for us," Stede said. "What a nice touch that would be."

"Does Jim have a special understanding of flowers?" Ed asked, still looking at himself from different angles.

"No, Oluwande is the one with the florist's eye," Stede said. "But they're rather inseparable. I wonder if it's a habit, from when Jim was pretending not to be able to speak. I think they grew to depend on Oluwande a bit."

"Imagine that," Ed said.

"I think you look quite nice," Stede told him. "I could do your beard too if you want. Perhaps a couple of little bows. That would look quite sweet."

Ed huffed a laugh. "I don't think I've ever looked sweet."

"You said you wanted to try new things," Stede said eagerly.

"All right," Ed said, as if he needed convincing to have Stede's hands gently cradling his face, combing out his beard with more of that scented oil. He watched Stede's face as Stede fussed over him. Stede seemed genuinely delighted to be tasked with turning a pirate into a party guest. He hovered over Ed, barely a breath away. His focus was so intense that Ed wasn't sure Stede would notice if he picked Stede's waistcoat pockets, or if he leaned forward a fraction of an inch and kissed him. Well, he might notice that. Ed refrained from both impulses, although he did wonder for just a moment if Stede's mouth would be as soft and cushiony as his down mattress.

"There now," Stede said, when he'd combed Ed's beard into sculpted ringlets. "Time to get dressed.

"I can't just wear this?" Ed said, swirling the cashmere around his body.

"It would be quite the statement," Stede said. "Not sure if it's the one you want to make."

"What am I saying to you?" Ed asked, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his hips.

"You're...ah...you're loving life," Stede said, turning a little pink at the ears. "Why don't you go into the wardrobe? Pick out anything you'd like."

"I already have what I like," Ed said, but he went, and he chose from the rainbow of riches, and he let Stede dress him in layers of fine fabrics that slipped and slid against his skin like so many whispers. It was a slow, deliberate process: the shirt, with the cravat knotted with delicate precision around the neck and the lace of the sleeves arranged to fall just so across the fingers. The waistcoat. The long stockings tied at the knee with the sleek breeches over them buttoned at the waist. The coat, heavy as a promise. The gleaming shoes with their buckles. Clothes fit for a king. Ed squared his shoulders and stood tall.

"Like you were born to it," Stede said admiringly.

"Maybe I was," Ed said.

"It wouldn't surprise me one bit," Stede said. "Ah, there's Oluwande with our flowers."

"When did you send them off?" Ed asked.

"Well, you were in the auxiliary wardrobe deliberating for quite some time," Stede said. "I thought I'd make use of the time." He sorted through the little basket Oluwande handed him. "Yes, these are perfect. Thank you, Oluwande."

"Any time," Oluwande said. "It's better than cleaning the cannons any day."

Stede selected a few flowers and stepped closer to Ed. He'd dressed himself too, and put on a wig. It looked awful compared to his normal hair, but he'd insisted it was part of the ensemble.

He paused, hovering close as a secret. "May I?"

"I told you," Ed said. "You don't have to ask when you want to touch me."

"A gentleman always asks," Stede said, and leaned in close to tuck the flowers into the back of Ed's bun. "There now. You look exquisite."

"Exquisite." Ed rolled the word around in his mouth, tasting it.

"Absolutely exquisite," Stede affirmed. There was fondness in the way he gazed at Ed, and pride, and only a little bit of worry.

"Stede," Ed began. They were still standing so close. He thought of the layers of cloth between them: silk and cotton, touched by many hands and pieced together by people like his mother for people who received invitations addressed to "sir" and "lady". But the borrowed garments felt so beautiful on his body. A different kind of armor than his leathers, protective of something other than his vitals.

Stede smiled. "Yes?"

"Nevermind," Ed said. "Thanks."

"It was my pleasure," Stede said, that affectionate light still in his eyes. "Happy to serve as your coiffeur any time."

The moment stretched out between them like the calm blue waters of a lagoon. Ed wanted to dive into the peace of it and make it last. He met Stede's steady gaze and didn't look away. Stede smiled. Ed held his breath. Stede's smile turned quizzical.

"You need some flowers too," Ed said, fumbling for some reason to keep gazing at Stede.

"Oh, well, if you insist," Stede said happily, and let Ed weave the stems into the round curls of his wig.

"There," Ed said, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"Don't we make quite the pair," Stede said.

"Just a couple of fancy boys off to participate in pageantry," Ed said.

Stede bowed to him and Ed extended one hand imperiously. Stede took it and kissed it quickly. "Your Grace," he said.

"I like the sound of that," Ed said.

"What will you tell them your name is? Edward?"

"No, I think I'll be...Jeff," Ed said. "Jeff the accountant."

"Splendid," Stede told him. "Godfrey and Jeff. It has a ring to it."

Ed grinned. "Watch out world, here we come."

Stede reminded Ed of a lovely little device he'd seen once, an old telescope filled with bits of colored glass and shells. He'd held it up to his eye and turned and turned it, and each turn had shifted the fragments to form a new and entrancing illusion layered over the world. A colliding-scope, it had been called. Stede had colliding-scope eyes - he gazed at Ed as if Ed brought that glittering magic to the world. Ed could almost see it himself when he looked in the mirror. A gentle man. A pirate.

The party was awful, maybe the worst ever, but it was almost worth it to see Stede and Frenchie come to his rescue. Stede might be awful with a sword and naive as hell, but he had a deft enough wit, and he hadn't hesitated to trust Abshir and the other servants. It didn't mean Ed would have wanted his mother waiting on the Bonnets instead of the Carmodys, but that said at least a little something about his character.

For Ed, the man who'd woken up naming himself a coward had faced down an entire party of complete dickheads. Maybe it didn't shift much in the tilted balance of power in their worlds, but it wasn't nothing. How strange it was to realize that Stede didn't see him the way the others did. To them, a man with darker skin was a servant, or someone to be taken advantage of no matter how finely he was dressed. To Stede, he was a captain, on equal footing if not higher. One man's opinion wouldn't change the world, and heaven knew Ed had seen enough people's stances shift quickly enough when they were challenged. Still, it soothed something in Ed's heart to know he'd never have to prove himself to Stede.

"It was awful, wasn't it?" Stede murmured as they waited for the dinghy to settle against the Revenge.

"You weren't awful," Ed told him.

"You weren't awful either," Stede said.

It felt good to be back on the Revenge. It felt right. Ed stood on the deck and breathed the fresh air. He understood this world. In this world, he knew every rule, and he ruled with cruel grace. On the sea, he bowed to no man. He stood tall, and for now, Stede stood next to him and called him sophisticated.

In the moonlight, Stede tucked a scrap of blood-red silk over Ed's heart, a bit of Ed's painful past redeemed and made beautiful. It was a moment Blackbeard could not have imagined. There was a measure of devotion Izzy had never given him. Izzy had helped him dress, but never to be lovely. A small secret place inside Ed had longed for loveliness, for those little glints of beauty that Stede brought to his surroundings. He wavered toward Stede and away again. Too close, too soon. The thudding of his own heart startled him. Something swept across his soul like the beam of a lighthouse illuminating the fog. Love. He'd forgotten what it felt like. His mother had not had the luxury to treasure him. Even Izzy, to whom he meant the most, did not love him. Somehow Stede, steady, silly, sweet Stede, had a power no man had matched. The Gentleman Pirate could bring Blackbeard to his knees.

Ed went back to his makeshift bunk in what Stede had called the rec room. He tugged at the tie holding his hair until it came loose in a shower of flowers and a waft of lavender. Stede was half a ship away, but his care stayed with Ed. Ed touched his bit of silk.

He had to kill Stede Bonnet.

He absolutely couldn't kill Stede Bonnet.

+ + + +

It was the fuckery that upended him. He'd been close to finishing the job, and then he'd been undone. The wet thwack of the false Kraken's tentacle against the window had brought back too much. He'd retreated to Stede's bath with Stede's clothes bundled around him, and instead of condemning him, Stede had taken his hand and let Ed cry.

Stede saw the whole of him, the legendary tyrant and the theatrical terror and the friendless child, and embraced him. Stede offered him fine things casually, as if there was no question he deserved them. Stede told new stories that made Blackbeard a king instead of a monster. Stede, like a lighthouse, guided him on.

He couldn't watch Stede fight Izzy. That made him a coward, but he couldn't watch Stede die at anyone else's hand. He couldn't hear the crew, encouraging Stede and offering advice, knowing Izzy's capabilities and his vicious loyalty to the parts of Ed that served his purposes. If he stepped in on Stede's behalf, he'd be confirming that Stede was weak and unworthy of captaincy. Plus, he'd have to kill Izzy, which wasn't a pleasant idea, and that was the best possible outcome: if Izzy stepped down and refused to fight him, that would be worse and he'd still probably have to kill Izzy on principle.

A few days of playfighting hadn't taught Stede enough to hold his own against a desperate man. The crew loved Stede, and Izzy was going to kill him for the crime of seeing more than Blackbeard, and then Ed would have to choose between killing Izzy or being Blackbeard forever, brokenhearted all over again.

And then: a miracle. Ed hadn't put much stake in any sort of god for a while, but she'd given him a gift tonight. Stede stayed and Izzy left and Ed could breathe.

+ + + +

The weeks they spent together were brilliantly illuminated in Ed's memory. Even the ordinary moments took on that colliding-scope magic, that glint and sheen and color.
Stede tucking flowers into his hair and tying bows into his beard. Eating snake on a log in the middle of the jungle, spinning stories together about a peaceful future. Stede dressing Ed carefully in his own clothes as they played at switching places. Lounging in Stede's cabin drinking brandy or flipping through the clothes in the wardrobe. Storytime on the deck. Sword practice, their eyes locked together in singular purpose as they lunged and thrust and panted. The sharp scent of the liniment Stede produced from a chest and rubbed into Ed's knee when a storm was brewing or after a particularly vigorous sparring session. The lavender soap Stede offered to Ed so that he could bathe in the tub the crew had filled with seawater. Stede explaining the provenance and purpose of each trinket in his cabinet in more detail than Ed had imagined. Standing at the helm, pointing out land or other ships on the horizon. Planning fuckery. Naps in the cabin during the hottest part of the day, the windows thrown open. Laughing over a thousand forks at dinner. A hundred moments that would have meant nothing if he'd spent them with anybody else. The memories were rays of light lancing across his muddled thoughts, a following wind to freshen his outlook.

Stede didn't need him to be anyone other than who he was. Not like Izzy, who would not be mastered by anyone but Blackbeard. Not, as it turned out, like Jack.

+ + + +

Ed should have known his ghosts would come back to haunt him. He'd made enough of them, one way or the other, to crew his own Flying Dutchman. He should have known Izzy would trade his old master for a new one, if the old one failed to master him.

He wagered his heart on an act of grace, put his body between Stede and doom. He lifted the cloth from Stede's eyes and saw Stede's heart in them. After everything, Stede still believed in him. The magic of Blackbeard endured. He put his X on the page in front of the bewigged British witnesses to marry his future to Stede's. For better or worse, until death or the Navy might part them. Ten years yoked to Stede, in the name of the crown: he could think of a hundred worse fates.

The British took them to shore, gave them uniforms that scrubbed away any appearance of captaincy. Ed was less uneasy than he ought to have been, facing an uncertain future. At least it was something different. He didn't have to be Blackbeard in the barracks, but it was strange being Edward again around people who weren't the crew. He'd been pressed into service, but he wasn't a servant — it was a difficult balance to hold. But Stede was there and that was enough, almost. A beach, a confession, a kiss: Stede was everything, for a blissful moment. Stede made him happy. The magic was back, but it was Edward's own, not tied to the black beard he'd worn or the black flag he'd sailed under. Stede had showed him his own power, his own hope, his own joy.

And then Stede disappeared, and the hollow under Ed's heart swallowed him whole. He rowed back to the Revenge a different man. His heart ached even more than his knee. He wrapped himself in Stede's finery, but it didn't bring Stede back. The crew was tender with him. Izzy was not.

But Izzy was there, and Stede wasn't. Izzy was there, and his certainty about Blackbeard was an anchor. It held him steady. It dragged him down. He painted black around his eyes and didn't think of Stede's touch as he'd darkened Ed's eyelashes before they'd gone to that godawful party. He sank into the depths of his rage. Edward, gone, into the abyss, and all he might have been, and even Blackbeard, eaten by the Kraken. Stede's crew he cast away like flotsam. He drove the others before him like the spume before a storm. He exacted his revenge from his Revenge. He was the Kraken. He would crush the world and feast on the remains. The world had called him a monster and a monster he would be. Stede was the only person who had always seen his humanity, and Stede had looked away. The Kraken filled all Ed's empty places with anger, shored up the broken mast of his heart. The Kraken gave him purpose.

When he gazed out across the deck, the colliding-scope magic was gone. Gone were the bright gay colors. Everything was sharp-edged, dull grey, the color of death. When he needed release, he fucked Izzy until Izzy staggered around the deck, sore and smug. It always involved pain. Inch by inch, he took the price of betrayal out of Izzy's weathered hide. It only seemed to increase Izzy's devotion.

He would never fuck Izzy in Stede's bunk. Anywhere but there. Everywhere but there. He pushed Izzy away from it over and over, up against the wall or bent over the sofa.

"Not in his bed, is that it?" Izzy rasped out once, his hands braced against the table as Ed pounded into him. "Still pining for that streak of piss?"

Ed stepped back, his stiff cock popping out of Izzy's ass.

"Out," he said in a voice that simmered with rage, and Izzy hauled up his trousers and went without arguing. Ed didn't even bother to finish himself off. His cock ached a little, but his heart hurt more.

He went into the closet, flung all of Stede's clothes on the floor, the summer linens and the autumn vibes tangled together, and then he crawled into the pile and wept until everything was smeared with black.

He had given his life for Stede, in a way, and Stede had given it back. The sorrow of it pulled him under like a rip tide, dragged at him until he was exhausted. Stede was lodged in his heart like a fragment of a bullet from an old wound that would never work its way out.

"Find us a fight," he told the crew when he emerged from the cabin, and that was easy enough. The Kraken measured out the weight of his tears in someone else's blood and felt more like himself again.

There was always another fight to be found, another ship to burn to the waterline. The Kraken lived in a deep well of violence, fed by an endless spring of greed and cruelty. He fed on the creatures that inhabited that well and grew more and more powerful. He had riches beyond imagining. He could have been admiral of a fleet of swift ships, if he hadn't chosen to destroy them. He'd had his pick of sailors for his crew, and tossed most of them back. He couldn't claim now that the only blood on his hands was his father's. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for him, or so the shanty went. The only music on his boat now was screams, accompanied by the shriek of metal on metal and the creak of the rigging.

Funny: he was lonelier than before. Even with Izzy heaving under him. Even with the people they'd added to the crew, the snarling, sneering fighters. He fought and he drank and he fucked and he fought some more and he felt nothing but hunger, never satisfied. He sailed through storms and sunny days. He threw a broken bottle at a dolphin, just to show how little he cared about the whims of fortune. Izzy was pleased. What a master he served — what a nightmare he and Blackbeard had dreamed up together.

The Kraken grew, story by story, until he might have eaten the world and the stars above, and Ed shrank and shrank until he was barely there at all. The Kraken didn't cry, but he sometimes woke up with a damp pillow and one of Stede's old shirts clutched to his heart.

+ + + +

And then, one day much later, the Kraken boarded a boat and was nearly blinded by a flash that caught his eye and tugged at what remained of his heart. There was a spark still there after all, kindled to an answering glow. Stede, in a white shirt, a beacon in the hot sun, a sword in his hand. Stede, more pirate than gentleman, wearing roughspun cotton and hard-earned calluses. Stede wasn't afraid of the Kraken, not even with a knife blade against his throat. He opened his hand and let the sword drop as the Kraken pulled him close to his chest.

"Hello, Ed. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"I ought to take your heart's fucking blood," the Kraken growled. Stede's earlobe was exquisitely soft against his lips. It was agonizing.

"If that's what you need to do," Stede said. "It's yours."

The Kraken wavered, uncertain whether to nibble the earlobe or bite it off or shove Stede over the railing. "It's what you deserve."

"I missed you very much, Ed, and I'm terribly sorry," was all Stede said as he faced his doom, and the Kraken threw the knife to the deck in a fit of pique.

"Tie him up and dump him in the ball room," he ordered Ivan and Fang. "Take the ones we know and bring them abroad. Put them to work. Leave the rest to enjoy the Kraken's mercy."

"Thank you," Stede said.

The Kraken didn't respond. Stede went along mildly when Fang shoved him away. The Kraken very deliberately did not watch him go.

"Boss, don't do this," Izzy warned.

The Kraken didn't even bother to look at him. "When I want your opinion, I'll feed it to you so you can regurgitate it."

After a little while, the Kraken went and got his prisoner, hauling him along roughly by the ropes around his wrists. He told himself he was keeping his enemy close, handy for a quick maiming, but when they got to the cabin, he let go. Despite everything, some part of him trusted Stede. Stede's calm air in the face of the Kraken, as if he believed Ed would never actually hurt him, was extremely fucking irritating, but all the more because it seemed true. The Kraken would have already taken an ear or a finger from anyone else, but Stede remained whole and hale. He stepped away, loathe to touch Stede any more than he had to, whether it was to harm Stede or to fall into his arms and sob. Stede stood in the center of the cabin with wet shining eyes.

"You still have some of my books," he said.

"Too fucking many of them for the crew to throw overboard," the Kraken said. "I had better things to do. I was waiting for a storm so they'd all fucking fall off the shelves and I could have Ivan shovel them off the deck. Or make a bonfire on the beach, maybe. Still might do that. You can carry them to shore for me."

"I'm glad you had fair winds, then," Stede said, only the slightest crease between his brows.

"Fucking read one," the Kraken ordered. "Make yourself useful."

"Let's see...oh, there's my book of fairy tales," Stede said. He started to try to reach for it, as if he'd forgotten his bonds. He didn't panic or make some sort of comment about how he seemed to be all tied up. That was new. He simply looked at Ed, hardly even a question in his pleasant expression.

The Kraken slashed through the rope with a quick stroke. It wasn't as enjoyable as drawing blood, but it showed more skill. Stede nodded his thanks and reached for the book.

"'Ah, Grandmother!'" he read from a random page. "'What big teeth you have!'"

"The whole thing," Edward ordered, and sprawled on the sofa.

"Once upon a time," Stede began, and Ed closed his eyes. A girl, in a fine red cloak made for her by someone who loved her, walked through the deep woods where a monster lurked who wanted to eat her up, and started with the people she loved. Ed could imagine the feel of the cloak, the heavy drape of the fabric around his shoulders like an embrace. He didn't have to imagine the monster that would eat him up. He knew that monster in his bones.

"Nothing ends happily ever after," he said, when Stede was finished.

"Can't it?" Stede asked.

"No." Ed sat up.

"Why not?"

"Because life doesn't fucking work that way!" Ed pushed himself to his feet. His bad knee twinged and he bared his teeth.

"Tell the story another way," Stede said quietly. "You're the Kraken now, aren't you? Before, you were Blackbeard. Before that, someone else. Tell the story another way. Make the ending happy."

"Endings are never happy," Ed said.

"I think they can be," Stede said.

"Of course you do," Ed snapped. "Ask me how happy I was, waiting at the end of that dock."

"I'm sure you weren't," Stede said. "I am sorry."

Ed said nothing.

"I won't offer you any excuses," Stede told him. "I needed to do the things I did. But it wasn't fair to you, and it wasn't kind, and I won't ask you to forgive me."

"What if I did?" Ed asked. "Not saying I will."

Stede looked at him thoughtfully. "That would make you a better man than most."

Ed barked out a laugh. "No one's ever considered me a good man."

"Perhaps they didn't know you very well," Stede said.

"I reckon it's you who doesn't know me very well," Ed snapped.

"That might be so," Stede agreed. "But I'm still your friend."

"I don't need friends," Ed said.

Stede shrugged. "Nevertheless, I'm yours."

Ed touched his chest, remembering red silk in the moonlight. Remembering adventures and conversations and late-night brandy and stories that seemed to go on for hours and remembering, most of all, one perfect kiss.

It seemed to him that the Ed who had been submerged deep inside him tipped his face to the shining surface and began to rise. It had to be slow: the Kraken was strong, and Ed had known pearl divers who'd gone too deep, come up too fast, and suffered for it. Each day for weeks he beckoned Stede away from his work and Stede walked with him, talked with him, even when Ed only responded with grunts.

"Beautiful sunrise this morning, isn't it? Never saw anything like that on the island."

"A cup of tea would go down a treat right now, don't you think? Shall I go make us a cup of tea?"

"Remember when you staged that elaborate scene to introduce us to the concept of fuckery? One of my favorite moments, seeing you descend out of that strange fog. Absolutely magical."

"You and I made quite the lighthouse. With the help of Wee John, of course. Showed those Spaniards a thing or two, didn't we? What a time that was."

"The stars are magnificent tonight. I remember when I began, I could hardly make sense of the shapes everyone else seemed to see, but I can see them now. Sometimes that's how it works, I suppose — one day you understand something new, and then you're not certain how you didn't know it before."

Ed rarely responded with more than a word or two, but the temptation grew to take Stede's bait, to continue the conversation. In his head, he replied, even as his lips stayed pressed together. In his bunk, he imagined the back and forth until he fell asleep. Stede talked a lot of fucking nonsense, but inherent in his habit of addressing Ed was the assumption that they were interested in the same things, that they were on the same level. Stede, despite his education, never condescended to Ed or spoke as if Ed's experiences were beyond imagining.

Slowly, steadily, Stede hauled him out of the wreck-strewn depths of the greatest fuckery Blackbeard had ever imagined. There was nothing more rock-solid, it seemed, than Stede's conviction that Ed was a good person, and he'd run aground on it.

The Kraken receded under the shelter of his ribs, its tentacles still squeezing his heart. Every day, their grip seemed a little looser.

+ + + +

"I haven't forgiven you," he told Stede at last as they leaned on the railing.

"I wouldn't ask you to," Stede said. His mouth quirked and quivered, uncertain, but his shoulders were firm. "I could have come back after Badminton dragged me into the forest. I should have. As it turned out, my family had finished all my business for me, in a way. I'm not sorry I went. It was going that made me realize you were the person I needed in my life. I'm only sorry there was no way to tell you."

"Badminton," Ed said, and spit.

"Yes," Stede sighed. "Rather an awful coincidence they both died not quite at my hands. It seems I have a talent for driving men to distraction."

Ed laughed at that, a bark that startled him.

"Oh," Stede said, and blushed. "Not, ah. Not like that. I don't think. Not most men, anyway. Definitely not those men."

Ed squinted out over the water. "I've never been most men. One of these days, I'll ask you to think again."

"Not today," Stede said, and it was almost a question.

"Not today," Ed said firmly. "I'm still angry with you."

"Quite right," Stede said.

"You left," Ed said, staring out over the water. "You promised to meet me."

"Yes, well, it wasn't entirely in my control at first," Stede said. "And then I suppose it was, but I had what you might consider an ending of my own to rewrite. I owed that much to Mary and to the children."

"And you owed nothing to me," Ed said, bitterness making his voice cold. "A promise to a pirate — not worth much, in the end."

"It was better than gold to me," Stede said. "However long it took to redeem my word."

Ed opened his half-gloved hand to show how little that meant. He couldn't remember when he'd abandoned the full gloves. Sometime after Stede had come back, that was all. His hand lay on the railing, empty as a promise. After a moment, Stede put his own in it. Ed gripped his fingers reflexively, startled. Stede spread his fingers and laced them between Ed's.

"All I have left to offer you is myself," Stede said.

"And if I don't want that?" Ed asked. He'd meant to say "if I don't want you", but somehow, the word had stuck in his throat.

"I know how to row now," Stede teased. "And scrub, and sew, and cook, a bit. I can make myself useful. Or you can leave me on any island. Though I suppose it'll have to be Bonnet's Bar and Grill, eh?"

"And delicacies," Ed said, sniffing a bit. The damn sunlight was too bright. It was making his nose run. "And other delights."

"And fishing equipment," Stede said solemnly.

"Can't forget the fishing equipment."

"I never would," Stede promised.

Ed let the silence between them linger. "I suppose I'll keep you around," he said at last. "In case I need someone to read to me. But don't go spreading it around that I went easy on you."

"I'll tell everyone you ripped out my liver and ate it in front of me," Stede suggested.

"Good idea," Ed said. "Nobody knows what that damn thing's for anyway."

"You can have my liver, if you want it," Stede offered.

"Keep it," Ed said dismissively.

"Worth a try," Stede said. "I didn't think you'd accept my heart. Liver's a start."

Ed was quiet. "No," he said. "What would I do with your heart?"

"I'll hold onto it until you're ready, then," Stede said.

Ed stretched his bad knee and rolled his shoulders. "And if that's never?"

"It's still yours," Stede said. "Wherever it is. Whenever."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ed said.

Stede nodded. "It is a bit ironic that it was my wife who first made me realize I really was in love with you. I suppose that's the best thing that I brought away with me, when I died. Again."

Ed sniffed skeptically. "Hmm."

"Someone who's easy to be around, she said." Stede leaned on the railing next to him, close but not touching. "Someone to spend time with, who understands you. Someone who shares new ideas and perspectives with you. Someone to laugh with. I'd never had anyone like that before. I can't imagine I ever will again. But I had it with you, those few weeks. It's a gift I'll never forget."

Ed spat over the railing. "I'm not easy to be around."

"To me you are," Stede said simply.

The way Ed's heart caught felt like coming up for air after a long time underwater: a desperate, grateful gasp that filled him to the brim with something he couldn't describe. Joy. Fear. Weary sadness. Love.

"I might forgive you," he said after a bit.

"Oh?" Stede's voice was so full of hope it was almost painful.

"Maybe tomorrow," Ed said. He turned his face into the wind. "Maybe the next day."

"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do to hasten the process," Stede said. "Or say."

"I think you've said enough," Ed said.

"All right." Stede fell quiet. "Wait. In a good way, or...?"

"Find out tomorrow," Ed said.

The Kraken sank slowly into the deep waters of his soul.

+ + + +

"Don't do this," Izzy said.

"Don't do what." Ed made his voice flat, disapproving.

"Boss, he'll do that thing again where he turns you into someone else. Someone weak. Someone Blackbeard would never associate with. Someone the Kraken would crush without a second thought." Izzy's high voice quivered with passion.

"Maybe I'll crush you instead," Ed suggested. "And not in a sexy way."

Izzy's brain seemed to short-circuit for a moment. His mouth gaped, fish-fashion.

"You will not interfere in my interactions with Stede Bonnet," Ed continued. "You will not touch Stede Bonnet or anyone who accompanied him to this ship."

"You would cut the legs out from under me," Izzy rasped. "As your first mate, I should speak with your voice. I have always been loyal to you, Edward."

"Maybe so," Ed said, "but you haven't always been good to me."

"Edward," Izzy began, but Ed held up a hand.

"Dismissed, Mister Hands," he said. "Or I will cut the legs out from under you, and I'll do it with a grapefruit spoon."

"What if I offer you my resignation?" Izzy said.

"Oh, we're not going through all that again," Ed said. "You rowing away in a dinghy to sell us to the highest bidders? At least if you're piddling in the corners of my ship, I know where you are." He reached out to stroke Izzy's face. "You're my dog. Your place is at my heel. I'll put you down if I have to, but you belong to me."

Something like pride flickered in Izzy's eyes next to something like scorn. "Forgive me for my skepticism, but I've heard that before, and Stede Bonnet remains stubbornly on this earth rather than languishing in doggy heaven where he ought to be."

"Stede Bonnet is worth saving," Ed said simply. "He's the Gentleman Pirate. Meanwhile, Izzy Hands?" He paused. "Izzy who?"

Izzy jerked back as if Edward had slapped him rather than caressed him.

"Don't try to make me choose," Ed said softly. "You already know that, don't you, Iz? It'll be Stede at my side and you feeding the crabs."

"Yes, Captain," Izzy said.

"But don't worry," Ed continued. "I'd do it myself. No matter how soft you think I am, there will always be enough steel in my bones to cut you down. I owe you that, Izzy."

Izzy shivered. "Yes, boss."

"Get out of my sight," Ed ordered.

+ + + +

It wasn't the next day, but it wasn't much longer. He woke up one day and spent a long time lying in his bunk staring at the way the sun shone through the beveled edges of the windowpanes. It reminded him of the colliding-scope. When he got up, he didn't bother to put on his leathers or his kohl. Instead, he put on loose trousers and dug up Stede's pink velvet kimono from the corner of the wardrobe. It was creased from the way he'd wadded it up, but the silk lining still felt sleek and cool and rich against his shoulders. He went out on the deck.

"Tell him I want tea," he said to Ivan.

"Tea, boss?" Ivan looked at the bottle of rum he was holding out.

"Tea," Ed confirmed. "He knows how to make it."

Ivan opened his mouth, reconsidered, closed his mouth, and left. It was a beautiful morning, bright and breezy. Ed stood at the helm looking out over the water. Beneath him, the unicorn pranced through the waves. In a little while, Stede came up behind him with a teacup.

"I believe I was summoned."

"You were," Ed said.

"A dollop of milk," he said. "It's a good thing we stopped over on that island yesterday."

"And?" Ed looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Seven sugars," Stede said.

"Six wouldn't be the same," Ed said, like it was some kind of password between them.

He sipped his tea and looked Stede over. Stede was as brown as a nut from all his time in the sun working on the deck. His hair was long enough to pull back into a plait, and he'd grown a short beard. It suited him, but most striking of all was his air of quiet confidence. He stood tall, sturdy as a lighthouse. The strong set of his shoulders did something that calmed the stormy seas inside Ed's mind.

"You look different this morning," Stede said.

"Do I?" Ed took another sip of his tea. The porcelain cup was delicate and beautiful, so thin that the sunlight made it glow. The graceful curve of the lip and the arch of the handle pleased him. He had riches, he had sunshine, and he had a teacup. Not bad.

"You're not wearing the stuff around your eyes," Stede said, gesturing.

"Sometimes I don't," Ed said.

"Is that my kimono?" Stede asked.

"Not anymore," Ed said pleasantly.

Stede inclined his head. "Fair enough." He leaned on the railing next to Ed and looked down at the deck. Various members of the crew were milling around doing the thousand daily tasks a ship required while Izzy lurked at the edges and occasionally shot a poisonous glance in Stede's direction. "Izzy seems less than pleased that my crew and I have become something of a fixture."

Ed gazed into his teacup in blissful contemplation of the toast-colored liquid. "Izzy can go fuck himself."

"Now that would be a sight to see," Stede said. "Not sure I'd want to witness it, actually."

"I fucked Izzy," Ed said. "While you were gone." He looked at Stede.

Stede nodded slowly. "As I once said to Calico Jack, your past is your business."

"That's good," Ed said. "I wasn't asking for your permission."

"I think you know by now that I'd like to be part of your future," Stede said, "but if the sea has taught me anything, it's that there are bigger forces at work than my own desires."

"Yeah," Ed said. He tipped up his cup and drained it. There wasn't a good place to set it down, so he handed it to Stede.

"It's all right if it isn't meant to be anything more than this," Stede said. He smiled at Ed. "This is enough."

Ed reached out and caught him by the chin. "No. It isn't." He leaned in and kissed Stede lingeringly. Stede went stiff for a moment in surprise and then melted. His free hand rested on Ed's bicep. The other still held the cup. They kissed and the ship swayed like a cradle rocking under them and the sun shone down and warmed Ed's back and he felt that colliding-scope magic spreading out all around them. When he opened his eyes, Stede sparkled. Someone whooped from the deck and they both laughed, gazing at each other.

"You're back," Stede said, his voice full of emotion.

"Never left," Ed told him, and kissed him like the world was ending.

Somehow, the teacup survived, but that was Stede: protective of beautiful things.

+ + + +

By mutual unspoken agreement, they went about their separate tasks: Stede puttering around on deck, mending what needed mending, and Ed, dressed in his leathers again, discussing the next adventure with Jim while a still-sulking Izzy muttered the occasional suggestion. It hadn't been easy to convince Jim to join the Kraken's crew, but they'd cobbled together a tentative alliance. Jim was smart, and they knew the islands. Ed respected that. He wondered if Stede would want to be involved in planning again at some point, if that's what the combined crew would want. It had gone all right before, but that had just been a few weeks, when he thought about it. He wasn't sure if it was sustainable in the long run, co-captaining.

For a moment he wavered. The Kraken reached up one long tendril of doubt to twine around his brain. Maybe none of it would work out. Maybe a ship could really only have one captain — it wasn't as if they'd been on even footing the last time. Maybe this kiss had been their last kiss. At least it was better than the last last kiss. Maybe the crew would get sick of them both and send their bones to rest together in the deeps, or strand them on an island. Ed wanted to taste Stede, but not like that.

"Captain?" Jim said. "You're doing that thing again where you're not listening."

Izzy sighed theatrically.

"I think it's time we all had a few days off," Ed said, tapping the railing. "We're well stocked, aren't we, Jim?"

"Sure," Jim said. "We picked up a lot of things on that island yesterday. Roach is happy and that's all I need to know."

"What say we find a sweet little cove and drop anchor for a bit?" Ed suggested. "We've been doing some excellent pirating. We might as well enjoy our spoils."

"I think Cap...Stede used to call that 'vacation'," Jim said.

"Vacation it is," Ed said. "We'll bathe in crystal clear waters and eat fruit from the trees, all that stuff."

"I think I know a place," Jim said slowly.

Ed slapped the wheel. "Take us there, young Jim."

"Aye aye," Jim said.

"This is a mistake," Izzy said.

Ed clapped him on the shoulder. "I don't know that you'll understand this, Iz, but usually the captain's aim is not to inspire a mutiny. Happy crew, happy you. One day you'll get it."

"You really are a massive fucking dick," Izzy snarled, but quietly.

Ed leaned in. "And I know how much you love to hate to love dick, but here we are. On your way, Mister Hands. Prepare the ship for vacation. If you don't want to play along, there are plenty of barnacles to scrape off the hull."

"Listen up," Izzy bellowed as he strutted away. "Your captain has declared that we are going on vacation."

There were tentative cheers from the crew. Ed looked down and saw Stede smiling up at him. The smile stretched out like a beam of light to touch Ed's heart.

If it was the right two people, maybe anything could work.

+ + + +

They made landing at Jim's cove, which was absolutely perfect. It had the crystal clear waters and fruit-laden trees Ed had demanded, and the palms had plenty of crackling dry leaves. There were even some convenient logs and stones that could be pushed into a circle. They built a fire on the beach and roasted whatever they could catch. Everyone ate their fill and washed it down with stolen rum, which everyone knew tasted sweeter. Frenchie pulled out his mandolin and started to play and sing. It was raucous, joyous, the music jumbling with the sound of the waves and the breeze like a colliding-scope Ed could hear. He got up from his perch on the log, a little stiffly, and offered his hand to Stede.

"May I have this dance?"

Stede tipped his head and put his hand in Ed's. "Certainly, Captain." He got up, careful not to overbalance Ed, and they circled each other in the sand, making up patterns and movements, holding onto each other tightly. The crew, once they'd stopped gaping, got up and joined them, Wee John Feeney clapping his way through a jig and Roach demonstrating a few moves that seemed physically impossible. Everywhere Ed looked was overlaid with bright shining color, richer than jewels. The firelight was gold and the ocean was silver and the sand gleamed like diamonds. It was the kind of night that ought to last forever.

The moon was high in the sky when Stede rowed them back to the ship. The crew were passed out in the sand or had strung their hammocks between the trees, but Ed was feeling too old for all of that. He wanted his feather bed, and he wanted Stede. The ship was so quiet with only the two of them. Music drifted across the water, Frenchie crooning along to a soft song that rolled like the waves.

"I think it's my turn to ask for a dance," Stede said. "May I?"

Ed stepped into his open arms. There were no fancy moves this time. They swayed, cheek to cheek, the moon casting warm light across the worn wood of the deck.

"I could never have imagined this," Ed said.

"I could," Stede said. "Do you remember, after that godawful party we went to? Godfrey and Jeff? I would have danced with you in the moonlight then."

"I remember," Ed said quietly.

"Do you still have that bit of silk? It looked quite nice with your skin tone. You could have something made that color."

"I lost it," Ed said. "Around the time I lost you, actually, and myself. Fortunately, not all of them were gone forever."

"I don't think I'll ever stop being sorry for all of that," Stede said. "Even if it was something worth doing, it wasn't fair of me to leave without a word. When the gun went off...I think I lost some part of myself. It felt like I was trapped in a horrible nightmare and the only way I could wake up was to go back to the estate. It felt like I'd dreamed you. That wasn't the horrible part, of course, and it isn't an excuse. You deserved better of me, but I couldn't see my way out of the illusion without Mary's help."

"What if this is a dream?" Ed asked.

"I suppose you'd have to kiss me to find out," Stede said.

Ed did. It felt real: the tang of lime juice at the corner of Stede's lip, the roughness of his skin, the prickle of his beard.

"I think we're awake," Ed said. "Might have to kiss you again to make sure."

"Naturally," Stede said. "Go right ahead, my good man."

Ed kissed him again, his mouth exploring Stede's in a leisurely fashion. A spark of heat kindled in his belly, growing slowly as he fed it the sound of Stede's sighs, the new hard muscles in Stede's back, the friction between them.

"If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up," Ed said.

"Me either," Stede told him.

"Come on," Ed said, and took Stede by the hand, leading him to the grand cabin. "It's time I properly welcomed you home."

"I love what you've done with the place," Stede teased, as if he hadn't been in and out of the cabin half a dozen times a day since the Kraken had captured him. It was true he hadn't had the leisure to comment on it before. The space looked more open since Ed had ripped down the drapes in a fit of pique and pushed the furniture around.

"Sometimes a man likes to redecorate." Ed looked around. "Probably still got your curtains somewhere."

"There were quite a few of them," Stede said. "Probably more than necessary."

"Definitely," Ed said. He watched Stede wander around the cabin. The fire in his belly sent heat licking up his torso and down his legs. Ridiculous, that just the curve of Stede's calf under his breeches or the glimpse of his chest hair through the open neck of his shirt could have such an effect. Ed hadn't felt this way since he was a much younger man, and he'd never really had the accompanying throb of the heart to go with the throb in his loins. He'd had lovers he'd cared about, but not one of them had ever broken his heart until Stede.

"Ah," Stede said, crouching by the few books left in the bookshelf. "I wondered if this one had survived. I wanted to show it to you before, but it seemed a bit forward." He pulled a book from the shelf and brushed a little dust off the cover.

"Mate, you know I can't read," Ed said.

"I'll teach you later, if you like," Stede said. "But that's not quite the appeal of this particular volume. It's called The Ways. It's not an original, naturally, but I think it's a rather inspired reproduction." He handed it to Ed. Ed flipped it open.

"I see what you mean," he said, gazing at the illustration. He paged through it. "Hmm. Mmhmm. Oh, yes, love a bit of that one."

"I haven't tried most of them," Stede said. The tips of his ears were pink. "I'm not even certain if two men together could manage them. But it provides some stimulus, as it were."

"Yeah, there are ways," Ed said. "As it were."

"Wonderful," Stede said. "You know, previously, I kept it mostly as a sort of academic or historical curiosity, but I think I'm beginning to understand the appeal a little more, knowing that I have...options."

"So many options," Ed said absently, and then looked at Stede. "As long as at least one of the options is me."

"That was my hope," Stede said, and turned very pink all over.

"Good." Ed smiled at him. "You can tell me all your favorites later. Academically, of course."

"Yes," Stede said faintly. "I will."

"Can't believe the crew didn't snaffle this one," Ed said, going back to perusing the illustrations of very naked and athletic and well-endowed individuals.

"They can't read either," Stede said. "Only Lucius, and he wasn't likely to go through my whole library. I'm sure he never suspected I would own reproduction vintage Italian erotica."

"To be fair, I don't think most people would," Ed said, closing the book. "You're a little buttoned-up, you know?"

Stede nodded in a jerky way. "I'm aware."

"You remember when I was teaching you to sword fight?" Ed asked.

"How could I forget?" Stede parried. "You threatened to shoot me unless I stabbed you."

"Yeah, it was all a bit of a ruse to get close to you. I mean, also to make sure you survived more than a couple of weeks, but mostly just the first thing."

Stede looked incredulous. "Even the stabbing?"

Ed shrugged. "The kind of stabbing they're doing in your book here would have been preferable, but I took what I could get. You have to admit, it provided a thrill or two. Plus it saved your life."

"Forgive me if I'm being too forward," Stede said, stepping close, "but I think we can do better now."

"You've become quite the little flirt," Ed murmured.

"There hasn't been anybody else," Stede said, "but I have had a lot of time to cultivate quite a bit of theoretical knowledge and some very particular dreams. All starring you, for some reason."

"How curious." Ed tilted Stede's chin up. "I think it's storytime, Mister Bonnet. Tell me all about your dreams, and spare no detail. That's an order from your captain."

"Oh, yes, following my captain's orders features in many of my dreams," Stede said. "Ah, Ed. Obviously I'm not a virgin, but I'm not exactly experienced. I might have had sex a few times, but I'm not sure I've ever made love. Be patient with me?"

"Oh, love," Ed sighed, "I've already waited my whole life. It's all right."

"Edward," Stede breathed in caressing tones, his eyes shining, and Ed kissed him so he wouldn't cry.

They took their time. There were lots of fiddly little buttons and buckles to undo, and they were both deliberate about it. Each undoing deserved a kiss or a caress. He pulled the tie from Stede's hair and let the blond waves tumble free so he could bury his hands in them. When they were both bare to the waist, Ed trailed his fingers down Stede's chest, letting his nails catch gently on Stede's skin. Stede's breath caught and Ed grinned, ferocity in it but no malice.

"The night I stabbed you," Stede said. "That was the first time I think I understood that I wanted you. The noises you made, and the way your body tensed in my arms...it wasn't something I knew how to express to you, but I felt it."

"And you didn't even try to seduce me?" Ed asked. He tsked. "Real lack of initiative there, man."

"I didn't know how," Stede said. "Even after Jack said you and he had, ah, dallied and I thought you might be receptive to my advances, I didn't know how to advance. It was an obligation of my married life, but not something I'd ever pursued recreationally, you see. As you might imagine, my wedding night was something of a disaster."

"What the fuck have you been doing since we've been apart that you're so confident now, eh?" Ed asked tenderly. "I thought there was nobody else."

Stede shrugged, his chest shifting under Ed's palm. "Losing everything will make a person bold, I suppose. I couldn't live with myself if I squandered this chance."

"I wouldn't let you," Ed said. "Not this time." He kissed Stede, putting his whole heart into it. Stede kissed him back with an equal passion. They lost themselves for long minutes in the flick and thrust of tongue against tongue, in the delicious friction of skin against skin. The fire in Ed's belly crept through his whole body, and he could sense the answering roar in the heat of Stede's blood. The world was burning down around them and each gasp and nip fueled the flames. Ed growled under his breath and relished the way Stede moaned and pressed against him. He reached up to caress Stede's chest. On a whim, he pinched Stede's nipples and Stede jerked against him.

"Hello, hello," Ed murmured, feeling the swell in Stede's trousers.

"Yes, that's the effect you have on me," Stede said, sounding breathless. "I find myself quite unable to apologize for my impertinence."

"Is that what the fancy folk are calling it these days?" Ed asked, reaching down with one hand to cup Stede's cock. Stede made a helpless little noise. "And what should I do about this breach of manners, hmm?"

"What you're doing seems entirely effective," Stede gasped.

"Maybe you should follow my good example," Ed suggested, and used his other hand to guide Stede's trembling fingers lower and lower until they slipped inside his half-buttoned trousers. Stede's fingertips tangled in the curls around Ed's cock — that beard was still mostly black, at least — and grazed the delicate skin of Ed's shaft.

"Fuck me," Ed said in a dazed tone, seeing stars.

"Yes?" Stede said. "That seems to be the plan."

Ed buried his face in Stede's neck. "That feels so fucking good."

"You feel so fucking good," Stede ventured, and the sound of the word "fucking" in his mouth made Ed laugh and groan at the same time.

"Keep talking," Ed ordered.

"You're so hard," Stede said. "Like...like a mast, proud and strong. And your skin is so soft. I didn't know it would be so soft."

"Christ, man, don't you even touch yourself?" Ed asked, lips moving against Stede's skin.

"Ah, well, I've dabbled...that is to say, I do," Stede babbled. "But I wasn't sure if my own conclusions were generalizable, as it were. Everything about me is soft, or so I've been told."

"Not anymore," Ed assured him. He touched the firm planes of Stede's back. "You're a proper pirate." He shifted his thigh against Stede's cock to make Stede whimper. "Hard in all the right places."

"I want to taste you," Stede whispered. "I've heard that can be quite enjoyable for both parties."

"Fuck, yes." Ed shivered. "On your knees, then."

Stede dropped obediently, freeing his hand from Ed's trousers as he went. He knelt in front of Ed, gazing up. Without having to be instructed, he undid the rest of the buttons on Ed's trousers, pushed the leather down to Ed's thighs, and carefully reached in to free Ed's cock.

"Hello," he said to Ed's cock, his tone reverent. "Pleased to make your acquaintance at last."

Ed chuckled. "Nobody but you, Stede Bonnet."

"Just because I've lost my shirt doesn't mean I've lost my manners," Stede said matter-of-factly. "How does one proceed?"

"However one wants," Ed said. He combed his fingers through the tumbling curls of Stede's hair. "Maybe a kiss, maybe a bit of licking. Use your hands if you like. Just get to know each other, you know? Now that you've been formally introduced."

"It wouldn't have been polite if we hadn't been." Stede reached out and ran his fingers gently up and down the length of Ed's cock. He sighed appreciatively.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "Truly a sight to behold."

"Then you should be holding it," Ed teased, trying to make light of the way his heart thumped at the compliment. He'd been called a lot of things by his lovers in the past. Beautiful wasn't one of them. After everything, Stede could still make him feel treasured. Stede looked up, his gaze coquettish.

"Should I?" he asked. "Like this?" He wrapped his fist around the base. "Or like this?" He leaned forward, his lips parting, and took the head of Ed's cock into his mouth.

"Either way," Ed rasped. "Both." He felt his ribs heave as Stede's tongue darted out to make contact with his cock. "Fuck," he added as an afterthought.

"Mm," Stede agreed, his mouth full. His caresses were clumsy but enthusiastic, and a word or a touch from Ed redirected him easily enough. In a few minutes, Ed's grip on Stede's hair felt like the only thing keeping him upright: his knees were weak and his body shook. Most of his cock was in Stede's mouth, and Stede's hands were otherwise occupied caressing Ed's balls and gripping his ass hard enough to dig in. He made desperate, hungry little sounds as he sucked Ed's cock, and Ed groaned in response.

"That's enough," he said breathlessly. He tapped on Stede's shoulder and managed to step back. His cock slid out of Stede's mouth, slick and glossy.

"You didn't finish, did you?" Stede asked, looking confused. "I may not have experience, but that seems somewhat distinctive. Of course, I've never felt it from this end."

"No, I didn't finish yet," Ed assured him. "I want this to last a while. You're amazing, love." He stroked Stede's hair. "I want to share this with you."

"Well, thanks," Stede said, glowing at the praise.

"Peel me out of my trousers while you're down there, would you?" Ed asked. "You'll have to take the brace off first."

"You'll be all right without it?" Stede asked, already working at the buckles that secured the brace around Ed's knee.

"I don't plan on being vertical much longer," Ed assured him. "I'm taking you to bed, my lad."

"That sounds lovely," Stede said fervently.

It didn't take long for Stede to strip both of them naked. He offered Ed a shoulder to lean on and Ed accepted it, limping across the cabin to the bunk. He was reaching for Stede before Stede had even settled in beside him, caressing Stede's back, the new muscles in his thighs, the eager heft of his cock.

"I love you," he said wonderingly as Stede pressed close to him. Stede stilled.

"You mean it?" he said in a quiet voice.

"I do," Ed said. He leaned away enough to kiss Stede's forehead. "I've loved you a long while, I think."

"I love you too," Stede said. His lips trembled. "Also a long time. Maybe always."

"I had a suspicion," Ed said. "But I'm thrilled to hear it." He reached for Stede's cock. "I'm also thrilled about this."

"Are you?" Stede asked. "I wasn't sure how I measured up."

"Exceptionally well," Ed assured him. His own cock throbbed. "You're quite the quick study."

"I was afraid I wouldn't be able to please you." Stede's eyes shone. "You've had your pick over the years, I think."

"I pick you," Ed said fiercely. "I want you. I love you." He caressed Stede's cock, rubbing his thumb over the slit at the head until Stede keened. Stede thrust against him helplessly. Ed rolled away, which made Stede whimper and reach for him.

"Just getting something to make it all easier, love," Ed said. He fumbled open the jar of coconut oil. Stede had used it to soften his elbows and knees, before he'd left. Ed usually used it for more prurient purposes. The oil melted between his fingers and he rubbed it over his own cock and over Stede's until they were both properly slick. He reached lower and slid slippery fingers between Stede's thighs, pressing into the delicate skin between Stede's balls and Stede's asshole.

"You did your research, yeah?" he said to Stede. "You said you'd learned a lot of sexy theory."

"Um, yes," Stede said, sounding distracted. His breath was coming fast, almost panting. "If by 'research', you mean eavesdropping on the crew and asking more than a few silly questions of anyone who had the patience to answer me."

"Go on then, tell me the different ways you've researched that we can make love," Ed ordered.

"Oh, well," Stede said. "One can use one's mouth, of course. There's a popular option involving the bum. Hands." He paused. "Probably others. I can't seem to recall at the moment. I must be distracted."

"Very thorough," Ed praised. "How would you feel if I fucked your thighs?"

"You can do that?" Stede said in wonder.

Ed shrugged. "We can do a lot of things." He pushed his fingers into the gap between Stede's thighs to demonstrate. "We've done the mouth. The bum is best if you can prepare for it first. I'm not sure if I have that kind of patience tonight."

"No," Stede said in a strangled voice. "Please. Perhaps we can be patient another time, if there are other times."

"There will be many, many other times," Ed said. "Tilt your hips, love." Stede willingly went as Ed guided him. He shifted his grip to his cock, maneuvered himself between Stede's thighs, pushed into the hot narrow space. Ed gasped. Ed reached between them with the arm that was tucked under him to run his fingers over Stede's balls, to circle his index and thumb around Stede's shaft. He tried to go slow, but the friction and the heat and the way Stede cried out were intoxicating. Ed couldn't help thrusting harder and faster. Stede's cock was trapped between their bellies with Ed's fist wrapped around it.

"Squeeze," Ed gasped, smacking Stede's ass with one hand, and Stede moaned and tensed his thighs in just the right way. The tight hot passage between his legs narrowed until it felt like his muscles were clutching desperately at Ed's cock, hungry for him.

"Are you close?" Stede whispered. "I'm so fucking close, Ed. I'm so fucking close. You're so fucking amazing and I love you so, so fucking much."

"Come for me," Ed told him, brushing the hair back from Stede's face with the hand that wasn't pumping up and down on Stede's cock. "I want to watch you finish. Look at me, Stede. Let me see your pretty face when I make you lose yourself."

"Not lost," Stede whispered, his eyes adoring. "Never lost, with you." That loving blue gaze went a little unfocused as his whole body stiffened and shook. He gasped Ed's name and came in a hot rush over Ed's hand and both their bellies.

"Take me," he told Ed, "please," and he watched Ed with possessive joy as Ed thrust harder and faster between Stede's thighs. Stede shifted so that his lower arm was around Ed's back. He ran his free hand over Ed's chest and then down to Ed's ass, pulling Ed even closer.

"I fucking love you," Ed told him, and kissed him with a desperate passion. It was sloppy, but he couldn't help it. He tugged at Stede's lips, sank his nails into Stede's back, cried out as Stede slipped a daring finger between his ass cheeks to press against Ed's asshole. Light flashed behind his eyes as he came, blinding and brilliant, and he sagged against Stede. Stede caressed his back and murmured quietly. Ed didn't understand a word of it, still not quite returned to the world. It could have been poetry Stede was reciting, or a filthy shanty, or the text of the Act of Grace. All that mattered was that Stede was here, in the bed with Ed, and that they'd never have to watch each other leave again.

"That was..." Stede began, and seemed at a loss for words. "That was wonderful."

"Glad you enjoyed yourself." Ed rolled onto his back, still breathing fast.

"I want to do everything with you," Stede said fervently. "All the different ways."

"All right, love, all right," Ed said with a laugh. "We'll work our way through all your wildest fantasies, I promise. It takes a little time for the mast to stand tall again, you know." He craned his head. "Get us a damp rag, would you? We've gotten a bit sticky."

"Mmm, ah, I thought I might...?" Stede said, and slid down lower in the bunk. He looked up at Ed as his tongue darted out to taste the stickiness on Ed's softening cock. "What an interesting flavor."

"If that's what you want," Ed said, and there was certainly a twitch or two from the mast as he watched Stede lick him clean. When he was satisfied, Stede rolled out of the bunk and brought a wet cloth back from the washroom. He wiped them both down tenderly.

"Come here," Ed said. He was drowsy, satiated. He could hear the smugness in his voice as he beckoned Stede. Stede crawled in beside him and stretched his body along the length of Ed's. He reached down and drew the soft cotton sheet over both of them.

"This must be what that happily ever after feels like," Ed murmured.

"I think so," Stede agreed. "Ed, I'm very, very happy."

"Me too," Ed said. He could feel his pulse everywhere in his body, the beat strong and regular like the sweep of a lighthouse's beam.

"I'd propose to you if I could," Stede mumbled, sounding sleepy. "Finally I could marry for love."

"Why can't you?" Ed asked. He yawned. "I'm the fucking captain. I can marry anyone on my boat."

"You can, can't you?" Stede marveled. "Maybe when we're awake again, I'll do it properly. Down on one knee. Give you my ring. Everything right and proper."

"That sounds nice," Ed said drowsily. He imagined kissing Stede in front of the whole crew, dressed in their finest, Oluwande tossing flowers and the Swede pretending not to cry.

Stede snuggled closer. "Only the best for you, my darling."

"Stede," Ed said. His heart felt like a rose blooming.

"Mm?" said Stede, clearly almost asleep.

"I know I said you should avoid a lighthouse," Ed murmured, dropping a kiss on Stede's bare shoulder, "but I forgot to say it's the thing that guides you home."

"Home," agreed Stede. His lips brushed the skin over Ed's heart. "Edward."

Edward closed his eyes. "Home," he said to himself.

Above the Revenge, the stars wheeled in their endless dance. The moon shone down through the window and filled the cabin to the brim with a light like peace. In Ed's dreams, the colliding-scope turned, and every future he saw was beautiful.