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Stede was surprisingly well considering it was only the second time in his life he had been stabbed. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, attached to the mast waiting for someone to help him, but he was patient. Kind of. Lucius had lost a finger so the crew was occupied with that. And Ed… Well, Ed was saying goodbye to his right hand man that had just dueled his new friend - all that after having a complete mental breakdown in the bathtub. It was a rough night for him, Stede could understand that.
It still hurts though - the literal sword that was still penetrating his body. The blade was firmly attached to the wood, so he couldn’t get himself out, every shift and every breath was at least a little painful. His body felt heavy, begging for him to lay down and take a nap, even if he wasn’t exactly tired.
“You good?” asked Lucius.
“I- I would love it out.” Stede begged.
“Yeah, umm, I will get someone.”
“Please.”
“You keep breathing…”
"Thank you.” he hears the relief in his own voice. “It has been a while.”
After that it only takes a few minutes for Ed to reach him.
“Hey” his voice sounds tired, worried, but his hands go promptly to work. “I need you to relax for me, ok?”
“Ok” his voice cracks as he tries to control his muscles and Ed spreads his hand over his abdomen. He feels a shift in the blade, a force pulling it out. His eyes shut tight. A whimper escapes him, his chest moving up and down. Quickly. Uneven. He uses the man’s shoulders as support. He didn’t feel tired anymore as the new cause of pain attacked his nerves.
“Sorry” Ed’s touch reaches his cheek, half an apology, half an attempt to calm him. He could be so sweet sometimes. Stede’s breath slows a bit before the man screams for the rest of the crew: “Can someone help us here?”
Stede, thankfully, didn’t have to do much - other than keep pressure on the front hole left by the sword as Ed took care of the one in the back. Everything looked a bit blurry and confusing, so he didn’t say much when he felt Oluwande and Ed removing him from the mast as the sun rose. He only yelped when they accidently dropped him on their way down the stairs and he could definitely make out the words when Ed told the man to get him some warm water and a clean cloth once they reached the captain's chambers.
“How are you feeling, mate?”
Ed placed Stede’s body gently on his mattress leaving him sideways and facing the room, one pillow mushed to comfortably hold his back and alleviate the bleeding. Stede sighed, he could feel the warm thick liquid running from his side, staining his clothes and bed. Inexplicable pride fills him - one more shirt ruined by the life of piracy. That felt right. Ed sits next to him.
“Never been better,” said a smiling Stede. “This is exactly what I wanted, you know?”
"What? Getting stabbed by a foe?” asked Ed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“What? No! The adrenaline! The surprise! Not knowing what the future holds.” he dramatically moves his hands, Edward smiles at him but holds his arms. Right, he shouldn’t be moving so much. He did have two more holes than usual at the moment, and they were very much bleeding. “Although it is kind of nice to finally have some enemies. I’m sure you have some of your own.”
“I certainly do. Many, many enemies.” his hands traveled to Stede’s wound, raising the soft fabric of his shirt to take a look.
“See… a man that knows how to live.” Ed chuckled, a sweet genuine sound that made Stede smile.
“Oh, well, I’m pretty sure there are better ways to do that without almost dying.”
“Come on, Ed! Let's not be dramatic. I managed to avoid all the important bits.” He nudged the man with his elbow. “And you asked me to do this to you, like, three days ago, you’re not in a place to complain.”
“Yeah, but I’m me. And we still gotta close these though. Or we will have a dried out pirate by noon.”
Ed stands, moving towards what he considered the best shelf in the room. His eyes go through the alcoholic beverages before his fingers grip the jar of his favorite brandy. Stede looks at him, watches as he places the bottle on the table and takes off his jacket and leaves it with his gun and knife by its side. There was something fascinating in the way he moved, so confident, assertive. He owned every room he walked into. This ship not being an exception, even if Stede tried to deny it. But he liked having Ed around so he wasn’t going to complain.
“Are you going to use that to clean them?”
“What?”
“You know… the wounds… with the alcohol?” Ed raises his eyes to look at him.
“I was mostly thinking about drinking it to be honest.”
“Oh, yeah makes sense”
“I will take care of you though. Don’t worry.”
He pours the alcohol in two cups, swallowing with one large gulp the content of the first, leaving it on the table before approaching the bed with the other in hand. Stede takes it, awkwardly using his elbows to support his torso. The movement turns out to be a terrible idea. An involuntary moan leaves his mouth as the pain spreads through his stomach.
“I don’t understand how you dealt with this so well…” Stede says.
“Like I said, I had tons of practice.”
They turn their heads as a knock on the door catches their attention. Black Pete opens it enough for his bald head to enter.
“Blackbeard,” he says in his nasally voice, allowing the rest of his body to enter the room “Oluwande told me you needed water and a rag so I took initiative, as a good crew member, and brought it for you, capitan, sir.” He lifts a small bowl of water in front of him, lowering his head in respect.
“Okay…” Ed says, the word coming out slowly from his mouth. He takes the water and turns to Stede, who was taking another sip from his bourbon. He stares at Black Pete, who stands near the door - hands resting in front of his body like a child waiting for an adult to tell him what to do.
He steps forward, approaching the two men a little more confidently “And if you need anything else, I hope you know that-” Ed raises a finger, making him immediately stop speaking.
“You did a great job today” his voice sounds kind, and Black Pete smiles widely. “But we are fine. You leave now.”
“Thank you, Pete.” Stede says as the short man nods and turns his back to them.
“Actually…” Ed starts. Black Pete turns around in an instant.
“Yes, sir, Blackbeard?”
“Tell the rest of the crew not to come here for a while. Cap here needs some rest.” He points at Stede with his head.
“I will, Blackbeard!” he says excitedly “Thank you for the opportunity I will not disappoint!”
With a fast paced strut, Black Pete leaves the room, slamming the door on his way out. They can hear a muffled “sorry” coming from outside, but they choose not to answer.
“He’s very dedicated, that one.” Ed murmurs.
Stede decides it is better not to mention the many attempts of treason he had protagonized so far - all in a few months of sailing with him.
“Has he worked with you before?” He asks, letting curiosity win this time.
Ed looks at him confused. “What?”
“He told us he was part of your crew. It was one of the reasons I asked him to join the Revenge!” He explains, before cocking his head in contemplation. Ed lets out a quiet laugh.
“Honestly, he might as well have. I’ve sailed with lots of people, can't remember them all.”
“I mean, he also said your head was made of smoke.” He furrows his brows. “And that your eyes glow.”
“Oh, and do they?” He asks playfully and eyes wide.
Stede answers in the same tone, looking directly at them. “Like the moon and the stars combined.” Ed looks down at his hands, the sides of his mouth rising and Stede can’t miss the opportunity. “A bit more now.”
“You flatter me, mate.” He avoids looking at his face when he takes the cloth and bowl of water and places it on the floor next to the bed. “Can I get this out?”
Ed grabs the bottom of his shirt, softly brushing the skin underneath with his knuckles. He is not entirely sure what Ed intends on doing with his injury, yet Stede nods, raising his arms while still awkwardly holding the drink in one hand. The movement is as painful as he thought it might be so he can barely hold a groan. Rough hands raise the fabric over his head, tossing it on the floor.
“Will you pick that up later?”
He looks at the destroyed shirt crumpled on the other side of the room and shrugs.
“Unh, probably not.”
“Alright, then.”
Ed dips the piece of fabric in the bowl of water and brings it to the hole in his stomach. Stede feels the warmed water in his skin as Ed carefully cleans the blood. He can only watch the man’s face. His brows are furrowed, concentrating on the very important task that is Stede, holding his lower lip between his teeth. The poor thing is probably still processing everything that went down that night - from the fuckery to the fight, to crying in the bathtub. Stede can’t believe his own insensitivity with his friend.
“You know…” he says tentatively “In this ship, when we go through something sad or traumatic,” Ed raises his eyes from his stomach to his face, the movement of his hands stopping for a second “we like to talk about it. A little bit.”
Ed breathes deeply, his throat bobs before he answers “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Anything you want really.”
“I don’t like talking about him.”
“You don’t have to. I just-” he exhales “I just want you to know you can.”
Talking about one's feelings, apparently, was a very hard thing for men to do. And finding someone willing to listen was even harder.
“He was my father. I killed him. He died.” The words come out of Ed’s mouth rapidly, eyes darting back to the small wound, continuing his cleansing. "That 's all.”
Stede looks at him in disbelief. That was, obviously, not all. He hadn’t even mentioned the dad, but rolls with it the same.
“What was he like?”
Ed shakes his head, taking his time to answer.
“Mostly a dick.” He wets the fabric once again and follows to clean the injury in Stede’s back “Liked to yell mean things and hit people that couldn't defend themselves.”
Stede feels a pit forming in his chest. “He used to hit you?” The question comes out as a whisper.
“No, not usually. Most of the time I think he didn’t even know I existed.” He is silent for a while, only analyzes the wound for a second and leaves the piece of the shirt on the floor next to him. “He used to drink. A lot. Spend all our money on whores, booze and bets or whatever.” His voice fails. He reaches for the small box of medical supplies under the bed - remembering it from the few nights ago when he had asked for it. “He was bitter. Angry. Got mad when the little mom made at her shitty job wasn't enough to pay for his shitty life. So he would hit her. Like she was nothing.”
He lets out a sigh. Stede doesn’t dare to make a single sound. “One day, when I was fourteen he came home one night and he didn’t like what we had for dinner.” His eyes lose a bit of focus, like the memory is the only thing he can really see, his hands are trembling. His voice gets quieter. “He broke the plates, slapped her and just left to drink beer in the docks near the house. And until that day I was too scared of him to do anything. So I would just cower in the corner, praying I wouldn’t be the next one to hurt. And she was just as scared as me, but I remember seeing her try to hide it. And I decided I didn't want to see it anymore, you know? So when he left, I followed him out… and then…”
“And then you killed him.” Stede whispers, finishing the story as kindly as he can. Ed’s eyes finally seem to find something to anchor on, looking directly at Stede, wide and sad, as vulnerable as he was earlier in the bathtub.
“And then I killed him, before he could do it to us.” He agrees.
“Do you regret it?”
He shakes his head, but he sounds pained when he says: “Bad men don’t really feel that.”
“Oh…” An unpleasant Nigel Badminton pops into his head for the first time in a while. The anger he awoke in Stede, his maniacal laughter, his lifeless body hitting the ground and the blood leaking from his skull. Probably the second worst thing he had done. He decides not to think of Mary and the children, he’s not sure he can handle it now.
Then he looks at Ed, the sun of the early morning lighting his dark eyes. Stede’s heart threatens to melt.
“You are not a bad man, Ed.” he offers him a smile. “Especially not for protecting the people you love.”
He watches as the man opens and closes his mouth before finally seeming to find the words he wants to say.
“You don’t know half the stuff I did.” He says it slowly, Stede can feel weight in every word. It almost feels like a warning.
“I don't have to.” He lifts his hand to gently place his palm over the man’s rough knuckles. “You are not your worst bits.”
Ed stares at their hands, looking a bit stunned. In a second he is back to mending the man before him.
They fall into silence, only their low breathing filling the air. It’s not uncomfortable but he wouldn’t call it comfortable either. Stede slowly sipped the alcohol Ed had brought him, the pain blurring as his body heated with the drink. Ed continued to work on him - sowing with thin lines and surprise precision the man’s injuries.
He really appreciates the way Ed takes care of him, and can’t help but wonder how he went from wanting to kill him to watching over him like this - what had Stede done right to get into his graces? It was an interesting exercise to separate the Blackbeard from his books, with his nine guns and twisted mustache, from the man he met in that Spanish ship.
The legend was merciless. Cruel. He killed men, women, and children with very little care. Stede had aspired to be like that in some ways - as a young misfit he read thousands of stories about the great men at sea, free from the law of high society and the moral qualms of structured religion. Yet he wasn’t cut out like that - merciless and cruel. The soft little rich boy inside of him always seemed to find his way into Stede’s life.
When Stede woke up from his nightmarish fever, he thought the handsome man sitting on the side of his bed couldn’t possibly be The Blackbeard - even if he evidently looked the part. No, that man had kind eyes, a calming tone and friendly stance. He liked fancy fabrics and thought Stede was, at the very least, decent at pirating. None of those things matched the legend, but here he was.
And Ed was somehow even more fascinating than the mythos could ever make him. Stede knew cruelty when he saw it. He remembers it well from the boys in his school, from the priests and the lords and from the man he used to call father. He didn’t see it in Ed, though. Sure he saw anger, sadness and, at times, confusion - but not cruelty. The Blackbeard Stede met only looked at him with kindness and, most of all, curiosity. He understood the silly little things Stede liked to do, even appreciated them, and shared his own queer habits. It made a funny feeling spark inside of him - one he couldn’t really name and maybe never even-
“What was your dad like?”
The sudden question interrupts his thoughts. Stede leaves the now empty cup on the floor. Ed is looking at him again, big expressive eyes more watery than usual - his hand reaching for the bandages that were kept under the captain's bed.
“What?”
“Your father” Ed states, now back at staring statically at his fidgeting fingers holding the wrappings. “I told you about mine, maybe you could… Tell me a bit about yours?” He looks as awkward asking as the question itself sounds.
He swallows hard. It wasn’t exactly the easiest subject. He lifts his body so Ed can wrap the bandages on him. He seems shy, unsure. It was odd watching him like this, but Stede should probably get used to it - friendship was a new practice for him as well and this, apparently, came with it.
He inhales deeply before he finally says: “Well, I guess we didn’t really get along.” Ed makes a turn with the fabric around his body, finger brushing softly against the skin of his back making the funny feeling in his stomach intensify.
“Hm…” Ed hums.
“ It wasn’t really that bad but… We had our share of problems.”
“Did ya?” he says as he glances up.
“I wasn’t exactly the son he wanted, you know? I've always been… a bit too soft for his liking.”
He nods. “Yeah… they don’t like that do they?”
Stede cocks his head. “Guess not. He tried to, you know, fix me. Sent me to a fancy boarding school as soon as he could, to see if I would toughen up with other boys around. Become an acceptable man, learn to follow rules and all that.”
“Did it work?”
“Oh, clearly! That’s why I left my family to live as a pirate. Because of my love for conventionalism and rigid set of rules.” Ed laughs.
“I don’t know man, I think you're pretty tough. Been through a lot.”
“They don’t really add those parts in the books.” Stede contemplates, staring at his own bleeding stomach. “Usually the stabbing is done by the protagonists, not to them. So I guess I hadn't evaluated the risks all that well.”
Ed’s eyes fall on him once again.
“What happened to him?”
“To dad?” He nods. “He passed, a few months after I got married. Didn’t even meet the grandchildren.” A dark chuckle leaves Stede’s mouth. “You should have seen the funeral. So fancy. And…” His heart aches a bit with the memory. “Prosaic.”
“Prosaic?” Ed finishes another lap of the linen, slowly raising Stede’s body and passing the roll of fabric.
“Yeah.” He confirms. “So many people came. Noblemen and noblewomen giving me their empty condolences. No one shed a single tear.”
"Sounds terrible.”
“It was. But Edward Bonnet was a terrible man, so it made sense”
He stops the bandaging as he furrows his brows. “Who?”
“Edward Bonnet? Oh, it was him.”
“Your dad’s name is Edward?” His eyes widened in surprise, the corner of his lips twitched upwards “Ed?”
“Was!” Stede corrects him, feeling a grin form on his face. “And he hated being called that. Thought it was disrespectful not to call him Mister Bonnet. O Sr. Or master.”
“Edward fucking Bonnet.” He states again, in awe. “It is a great name, really.”
“Well, you can take it anytime you want.”
“Maybe I will. Be fancy like you.” He rips the fabric in his hands, tucking the tip in the part that wrapped Stede’s body. “And we are done.” He says each word slowly, as if each one is its own sentence.
“Already?” Stede can’t help but to feel a bit disappointed.
He hums in agreement. “You should probably take a little bit of a nap, rest your head and all that.”
“But the sun is already coming up! I have a ship to command, for God’s sake!” He tries to move but Ed’s hand is placed in his chest, gently pushing him back down.
“Hey, you didn't sleep for a second last night. I don’t want you getting all moody and sulky on me.” And then he gets up.
“Where are you going?” Ed shrugs.
“Umm… To the deck? To keep things in order.”
“No you’re not.” Stede states outraged.
“I’m not?”
“If I’m staying here, so will you!” God, he sounds like a petty child. “Last I checked, you haven't slept either.”
“I’m not tired.” Ed whines.
“Neither am I.” Stede taps the bed next to him. “Come on, rest a bit.”
For a moment he just stares at him, suspicious. Stede can almost see the gears of his mind spinning inside his head.
“And why…” He hesitates, his hands falling on his hips. “Why do you want me there?”
“Well, I don’t know! We can keep talking. Or you could tell me a story. To help-” Ed joins in, completing the sentence.
“To help you sleep, right. Right.”
“Like we do with the crew. Besides, what if I start bleeding again? What if the sword punctured my liver? And I die during my sleep? Or if I wake up in agonizing pain and then I die?”
“Seems a bit dramatic…”
“You can use one of my robes if you’d like.”
That seems to spark some interest, Ed’s eyebrows shooting up, and Stede can’t help but smile. He had very expressive eyes.
“Like the pink one with the flowery pattern?”
“If you want it.” He points to the wrap hanging by the shelves with his chin.
Ed looks at it, hads falling from his hips as he sprints in its direction. Stede can barely muffle a giggle. The pirate reaches for the garment, but stops midway. His back is turned to the bed, and he slowly moves his neck to give Stede a quick glance - and what from the distance seems to be a smirk. What is he doing? He is about to ask when Ed grabs the bottom of his own shirt and throws it on the other side of the room.
Oh… Sure, that made sense. It was a nice fabric to have in contact with skin - it was soft and velvety and Ed seemed to like that sort of stuff. And, once again as Ed stripped in front of him, Stede can help but to hold his breath, heart speeding up with the sight. This time, though, he is a lot less certain about the reason.
The day they met, he was pretty nervous. If someone told him, even a few weeks ago, that he would not only encounter the legendary Blackbeard, but be able to call him a friend, he would have laughed. Not simply because the idea of encountering a man so fantastical and unreachable was unlikely - he was also pretty sure he wouldn't survive it. But, specially, he didn’t expect to trust him so promptly or exchange clothes to roleplay as each other. He sort of liked it, much more than he ever liked the legend.
He watches as Ed’s hands travel to the front of his pants, the shift of leather and the undoing of the clasps making a metallic sound. He is a lot more careful with the pants - they were tight enough that any abrupt movement when taking it off could rip the seams. Stede forces himself to look away, to not think about the beneaths of the tight pants.
Soon, Ed approaches the bed, pink robe on and ready to lay down beside his friend. He analyzes the situation, seeming not to want to move the stabbed man and risk him getting more hurt. He hovers over Stede as he goes to the part of the bed next to the wall, one hand next to his head as he pushes his body and throws his legs over him, one more awkwardly than the other as his mobility didn’t seem ideal on the left one.
“Sorry, mate.” He whispers as his face stood mere inches from Stede’s for a brief second. And then he lays, throws an arm up to rest his hand beneath his head as he gets comfortable.
"It 's alright.”
Ed smiles, the rising sun comes through the window and hits his skin in a golden dream.
“Shit, this is soft.” He wiggles a bit.
“Uhum… I like the goose feather pillows, can't sleep on anything else.”
“I might hop on here more often, then. Might be good for my back.”
Stede smiles broadly. “You’re always welcome. Friend.”
He gives him a little nudge on the leg, which Ed promptly gives back. It’s a small bed, so they are literally attached by the hip at the moment. And also by the thighs, knees and feet - even the tip of their toes meet. He never liked to share a bed with Mary, she would always complain he moved a lot, pulled the covers and occupied all the space. He hoped it wouldn’t be a problem now.
“I have to warn you” Ed starts, “I’m quite a restless sleeper. You might wake up with some bruises.”
He laughs. “Well, we might have a little fight then, a war between the sheets.”
“Sure, I’m up to it.” Ed says, playfully, a smile showing up both in his lips and his shiny eyes. Stede smiles back.
It’s kind of a novelty for his smiles to come out so easily, and they had been showing up a lot with Ed. He’s not sure why, but he likes it.