Pete hovers next to Lucius’ hammock playing nervously with the hem of his vest.
“What’s up, darling?” Lucius asks, not looking up from the book he pretends to be reading. The twitch of the corners of his lips betrays his amusement, though. Or is it excitement? Pete isn’t so sure.
He stares at the wooden finger on Lucius’ hand, his thank-you kiss still prickling on his lips. Lucius has never kissed him before. Not like that. Yes, his lips have been in other places, but none of them had felt like this. Pete isn’t sure what to make of it or of the strange feeling dancing in his stomach.
This isn’t arousal. It’s weird. Softer, and still somehow stronger than the sometimes slow, sometimes fast ascent to erupting under Lucius’ ministrations. It’s been only Lucius for quite some time now. Not that they’re exclusive. At least Pete doesn’t think they are, it’s just…
Pete breathes a sigh.
“Want me to suck you off?” Lucius asks without preamble, his eyebrow arched in a way that looks more like an amused challenge than anything else. But it feels good, nothing like the men who thought him a good fuck but otherwise threw jokes at him. Pete didn’t even think about sex, looking at the man sprawled out before him. All he can think of are Lucius’ fingers on his cheek, tender lips kissing his, and the weird churning feeling whenever he so much as thinks about Lucius smiling at him.
“Nah. I…” He gets lost once more. What is this man doing to him?
“Wanna cuddle then?” Lucius asks and shifts in the hammock.
God, that sounds enticing. But Pete is a pirate. Pirates don’t cuddle, or do they? Not in full consciousness, at least. No one can blame them for snuggling closer through the cool night, but this? This feels dangerous. Just like whittling the finger. It’s the same strange mix of excitement, worry, giddiness, and fear of rejection.
“Come here, love,” Lucius says and pats the stripe of empty fabric next to him.
Love.
Is that what this is? Nah, it can’t be. Pete’s not a guy for stuff like that. He’s never been in love before. Sex was fun, but the rest looked rather tedious. Pete never understood the appeal of anything romantic. It creeped him out, really. Did the people around him make all that shit up?
His mother once told him that she and his father had been in love. Not that it had brought them any luck. Pete – much different than many men he had worked alongside – had never felt the urge to find ‘the one’. Did he stumble over him anyway, without even looking?
“I… I don’t know. I’m too heavy,” he says, feeling unusually insecure all of a sudden.
“You’re just right, darling. C'mere,” Lucius says and waves his hand invitingly. That strange feeling in Pete’s stomach grows like flames, licks at his insides, consumes him. Trembling slightly, he slips out of his shoes and next to the man who woke something inside him Pete hadn’t known existed for real.
They shift around, the hammock swaying precariously, but they manage. Pete ends up in Lucius’ arms, his ear pressed right above Lucius’ heartbeat. It’s quicker than it should be.
'Because of me,’ Pete thinks. He starts giggling. He must be going insane.
“What’s so funny?” Lucius enquires.
“Nothing,” Pete smirks. 'Just that I’m in love,’ he adds in his mind.
One day, he’ll tell Lucius. But for now, he’ll carry this newly discovered truth for himself, will nourish and cherish it like the sad plant they plundered. It’s his, and no one can take this away from him.
He snuggles closer and breathes a sigh when Lucius’ fingers brush over his head. He wants to hold Lucius’ hand, an urge so new it seems silly, but he can’t help it. He dares it, slots his fingers with Lucius’, and it’s glorious in its simplicity. He could do this for a lifetime.
Yes, Lucius is hot and cute, but he’s also tender and sweet. And if Pete’s not reading this wrong, he’s all his.
☠️ You can find more OFMD fanfics of mine here on ao3.☠️
Oluwande brushes his fingers over Jim’s skin, stopping at the first uneven spot.
“Where did you get that one from?” he asks quietly, his voice softer than the candlelight dipping everything in glow and shadows.
“A run-in with two guys that were double my size. I would’ve cut their throats, but it was a vicious attack. They didn’t make it out alive,” Jim says, quirking a lopsided smile at their lover.
Oluwande hums and resumes his journey over Jim’s skin. He knows their body well by now. Still, it holds secrets that Jim hasn’t shared with him yet. One, in particular, unsettles Oluwande. The scars make no sense. They are thin, parallel and look systematic. So much unlike the other scars scattered over Jim’s body.
The number astounded him. He’d never seen anyone getting the better of them, so that many managed to actually land a blow came as somewhat of a surprise. But Jim was younger and less experienced at some point in their life, before Nana had trained them to the point of being a dangerous killer.
The scars are old. He had mistaken them for stretch marks in the beginning, when everything was too exciting to take the proper time to study all the details of their body. But now, Oluwande soaks in their naked closeness like others might in a luxurious bath. Oluwande loves it, loves Jim, wants to learn everything they are ready to share.
He runs his fingers over the thin lines adorning Jim’s thighs. They look faint. Jim doesn’t seem to mind his caresses, so he continues, goosebumps blooming under his touch.
“Where are those from?” he asks. Jim tenses, and Oluwande can hear them swallow hard.
“Don’t wanna talk about it,” they say curtly, but it sounds way too soft. Oluwande knows Jim by now. When they get quiet it’s especially important to listen.
“You don’t have to tell me, babe,” he says nonetheless and lets his fingers skim upwards again and spread over Jim’s stomach. He listens to their breathing, a little shallow as it barely raises their belly.
“Twas hard, you know? Life with Nana,” Jim says after a long while. Oluwande pushes himself back to wakefulness and hums. Sleep can wait.
“She trained me so hard. She expected so much. I often felt…” They trail off for a moment. Oluwande holds his breath, worried he might discourage them if he were too loud.
“I had no one to share my fears with. Nana meant well but showing weakness was something she detested. I prayed every night that she wouldn’t hear me crying.”
Oluwande’s heart cracks at the thought of little Jim crying themself to sleep. He cradles their adult form a little closer, cold comfort for the lonely kid, but he still hopes it helps to soften the pain.
“Sometimes, tears just didn’t cut it,” they say and chuckle without mirth. “So I cut myself at the only place that she couldn’t control. It was my little secret,” they whisper, voice raspy with emotions.
“Oh, Jim.”
They shake their head. “No, Olu. Don’t pity me. It’s a sign of my survival like every other scar on my body.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just wish you wouldn’t have needed that. That’s all.”
Jim smiles at him. “Haven’t cut me in a very long time, man. You really don’t have to worry. I’m fine.”
“I know,” Oluwande says and brushes a thumb over Jim’s cheek. They lean into the touch, eyes closing, eyelashes casting shadows against their skin.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” Oluwande breathes.
Jim laughs in surprise. It sounds warm and free, and the heaviness of the moment dissipates with it, leaving only tenderness and love behind.
“That’s weird,” Black Pete states matter-of-factly. It makes Stede wince. He thought so, but somehow, deep down in the scared part of his heart, he had hoped it would not be confirmed by someone who is much more versed in these kinds of matters.
“No it isn’t,” Lucius interjects. “Not wanting sex is absolutely valid, Captain.”
Stede makes a face. “Do you really think so?”
Lucius tilts his head to the side and nods a few times, a staccato of movements. Stede isn’t sure if he should believe him. The scribe has his eyes closed, and Stede – while often enough struggling with keeping eye-contact himself – would have felt better if he didn’t.
“It’s just as valid as desiring a person of any gender. It’s fine,” Lucius emphasises.
Stede knits his brow together. “But I do desire Ed. Just… not like that.”
Lucius puts a hand on his captain’s knee and squeezes. “The heart wants what the heart wants,” he speaks as if it were a big philosophical declaration. Maybe it is.
“Not wanting to bugger someone is weird,” Pete insists.
“Ah, shut up,” Lucius says. Pete looks disgruntled. “I’ll explain later,” Lucius adds a little softer.
“Could you explain it now? I want to understand,” Stede all but pleads.
Lucius sighs and brushes his hands over the fabric of his trousers. “I once was in love with a beautiful boy. He was perfect, inside out. He loved kissing and holding hands. We walked through the forest and along the beach, stealing smiles and glances. It was perfect. But then, he told me he wasn’t comfortable lying with me. I thought it was because he was worried to be caught. I gently pressured him, tried to ease him into it. At least that’s what I thought I was doing. But I harmed him, and for that I’m deeply sorry.”
Stede looks at Lucius with wide, damp eyes. “You…”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Lucius rushes to say. “None of that. I did things I thought would make him feel good, but I stopped as soon as he told me to. We were together for some time longer without me touching him ever again.”
Stede breathes a sigh of relief. “Puh. That’s good.” His eyes grow even more sad right after. “But you parted ways,” he states.
Lucius takes Stede’s hand and holds it gently. “Yes. But I’m sure he found someone who fit better with him and made him really happy.”
Stede nods. “But I don’t want someone else to fit better with my Ed.”
Lucius presses his lips together in a sympathetic display.
“I know, Stede. But who says that anything needs to change between you two? You love each other.”
“Oh, I think he should be scared. Blackbeard is known to chase all the skirts and all the breeches. He can have anyone,” Pete blurts out.
Lucius sets his jaw. “Not helping,” he hush-grinds.
“But he’s right, isn’t he? A man like Ed can snap his fingers, and someone will follow him gladly to his chamber,” Stede says and presses his face into his hands. He tries his best to keep himself from hyperventilating. He can’t imagine a world without Edward’s love. It would be void and colourless. What is a little discomfort in bed against being held by the love of your life through every night?
“He may well be able to, but who says he wants that? A relationship is more than sex, right darling?” Lucius addresses Pete. The man blushes and nods.
“I would still be with you if you didn’t… you know,” he whispers.
Lucius touches his arm and smiles at him gently. “I know, sweetheart.”
Stede smiles at the couple, still sorrowful, though. His Edward shouldn’t be forced to settle on the little he has to offer.
“I suppose I should tell him sooner rather than later, huh?” he asks, hoping for someone to let him off the hook.
“I really think you should,” Lucius says softly. Pete nods in agreement. Stede just sighs. He knows they’re right. But the fear has a tight grip around his racing heart, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to keep his mood hidden from Edward. Not for long, at least.
He swallows through the tightness in his throat and gets up.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” he says before he disappears through the door.
***
Stede stops still in the vestibule leading to their chambers.
Their.
Not for very much longer, he fears. Izzy’s voice coming from inside doesn’t help in the slightest, but if he keeps on waiting out here, he might collapse from a lack of oxygen as his breathing grows more and more shallow. This just won’t do!
He pushes the door open and walks past the two men and straight into the en-suite. It’s time to get ready for bed, and he has this whole thing rather happening freshly washed and in the softests of clothes. He takes his time, even shaves. It’s a futile act in a hopeless endeavour. He knows that. But at least he can pretend it’s going to be alright for a few more minutes.
“What’s taking you so long?” Edward calls through the door.
“I’m with you in a sec, darling,” Stede chirps. He hopes his wavering voice carries enough not to raise suspicions.
He pushes the bathroom door ajar and glances out. Edward is already in the red dressing gown, his leather clothes lying over the backrest of the chaise longue. Stede’s heart that had settled slightly speeds up once more. Edward is so beautiful, his lean muscles looking soft with the flow of the fabric. Sadly, that he’s not wearing anything underneath isn’t really helping the situiation.
Stede watches him for a moment, soaks in every detail and files them to memory. His heart is aching, and his eyes fill with tears even before Edward realises his presence.
“You alright, mate?” he asks. Stede quirks a feeble smile, which makes Edward’s worried frown only grow deeper. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks. The sound of Edward’s tender voice – the one only Stede ever has the honour to hear – aches in his chest. He wants to play it down, but he’s not a coward. Not anymore.
Stede takes his beloved’s hand and tugs him down on the chaise longue. Edward sinks next to him into the cushion, his body facing his beloved swaying to and fro as if he wasn’t sure how close would be too close for Stede’s liking. It makes Stede’s heart ache.
“You must know, Ed, the time I spent with you was the happiest of my life,” he starts. His eyes settle on Edward’s chest that barely moves. Stede never wanted to hurt him again. But he will, won’t he?
“You… are the most attractive man I’ve ever set my eyes on, Ed. The only person that ever made me feel seen,” he continues. He has more words for him, but Edward knocks the breath out of his lungs with a searing kiss and every coherent thought right with it.
Stede gives into it without resistance. It’s likely their last, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make the most of it.
But… Edward seems to have way more in mind than this spectacular slide of lips and tongues. Stede finds himself pressed into the pillows, breathless, mind grasping for words, but none of them ends up in Stede’s mouth. Too wonderful are Edward’s lips on his neck, too strong his hands gripping his hips. It would be glorious, if… Yes, if.
“S-s-stop, Ed, we need to talk,” Stede huffs.
“Words would only destroy the mood. Don’t you agree, sweetheart? Let me make you feel good. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” Edward says and seals Stede’s lips with another kiss.
That doesn’t sound so bad, does it? He managed to do it twice with Mary. It can’t be that bad with the man he loves, right? The kisses feel nice, so he nods. Yes. He wants to try this. Maybe he could even enjoy it.
‘Breathe,’ Stede reminds himself when Edward’s lips and hands travel lower and lower with clear intent.
“I love you,” he breathes, more to remind himself than to confess his feelings. Edward tilts his head up, a bright smile adorning his face. Stede could look at him for all eternity.
“I love you, too. Relax. You’re all tensed up,” Edward says and runs his hands up and down Stedes sides. “I’ve got you.”
Stede chuckles nervously and nods. He lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. Edward shoves his nightgown up and dives right in. Stede’s body surrenders to warm hands, even hotter lips, and other body parts Stede doesn’t want to think too much about. This is worse than wir Mary. With her, he at least had the prospect of offspring. This here is… is… He doesn’t find words for it. He hates it. Everything about it. He wants to scream, wants Edward to stop. But if he does, everything will be lost. Stede wouldn’t survive this.
He thinks of Mary writhing under Doug, the joy and pleasure he could see on her face. This is nothing like it.
He’s broken. Beyond repair. He can’t do anything right. He’s such a disappointment. He’s truly a lighthouse, just that Edward is ignoring all the warning signs.
Edward moans and shudders between his legs. Stede throws his arm over his eyes. Not that it would help anything with the noises that Edward makes. But they are easier to handle without having to look at the man swallowing him down.
The whole chaise, much too small for this endeavour anyway, shakes under Edward’s sudden eruption.
‘Thank god, this is over,’ Stede thinks. He didn’t know that someone could be so aroused from this to orgasm.
“What?” Edward’s voice, still breathless and a little slurred, cuts through the space between them.
Fuck! He said that out loud, didn’t he?
“No-nothing, love.This was nice,” Stede says, but he sounds like a bad liar to his own ears.
Edward’s eyes burn into him, setting his skin aflame, but not in a good way. Stede’s cheeks catch fire, too, and he pushes his nightgown to his knees as Edward sits up, body on display as the dressing gown falls to the side, framing his spent cock.
Stede consciously ignores the wet patch on his chaise longue and the cum drying on his leg. He’ll have to ask one of the crew to wash the furniture. The mere thought to touch it makes him sick. But even worse than that thought is Edward’s sad face in front of him, all deep lines, heavy eyes, and furrowed brows.
“I thought you liked it,” he says, and Stede has never heard him sound so small.
You’ve even managed to bring history’s greatest pirate to ruin.
Yes. He truly defiles beautiful things.
“I’m so sorry,” they say at the same time.
“What are you sorry about?” Edward asks and brushes tears gently off Stede’s face. When did he start shedding them?
“I hid something from you,” Stede snivels.
“What is it?” Stede shakes his head. He can’t say it. “Come on, mate. Tell me. I hate seeing you like this.”
“Could you…?” Stede asks, gesturing to Edward’s clothings. He looks downs at himself and nods before he wraps the fabric around his body. Stede relaxes instantly. It’s only a thin barrier, but it’s enough to put him at ease. At least, a little.
“I’m broken, I’m afraid,” he presses out, brushing the sleeve of his nightgown over his face.
“Then we’ll fix you,” Edward says.
Stede snorts a laugh. “This was the last trial to fix me, Ed. If not even you can break the spell…”
“You don’t like a nice roll in the hay?” Edward asks softly.
Stede shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. It makes me physically sick.”
Edward deflates visibly. “Why didn’t you say something, man? Now I feel awful.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that!” Edward growls.
Stede stares at him for a long moment, watches Ed burying his face in his hands.
“You can have the bed, I’m sleeping here, if you don’t mind me staying,” Stede presses out, suddenly dead tired. His heart collects in a pile of tiny shards in the pit of his stomach. There’s no answer for a long time. Stede runs his fingers over the woven fabric of the chaise longue and follows the movement with his eyes. He can’t look at Edward, or the rest of him will shatter into pieces, too.
“You stupid…” Edward suddenly growls but stops himself. “Come. I wanna hold you,” he says softer. “I need to feel you.”
Stede looks up at that. “You don’t have to, Ed. It’s okay. I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”
Edward breathes a long-suffering sigh. “Of course, you won’t. That’s why you get into bed and cuddle with your…”
“Ex?” Stede helps out.
“Extremely attractive gallant,” Edward says as if that was what Stede meant. “I’m not going anywhere, Stede. Buggery or not.”
“But you…”
Edward shrugs. “I wanna be with ya. The rest… Pff. I don’t care. I’ve got two healthy hands, haven’t I?”
“Maybe I could…” Stede trails off.
“Maybe. But not without talking it through… as a duo.”
Stede chuckles, and it conjures a smile on Edward’s face. He cups Stede’s face and runs his fingers over his cheeks.
“Promise me to never do anything that you don’t enjoy or that you don’t want to feel,” he says.
“But, Ed—”
He shushes him. “Never!”
Stede swallows. “Never,” he whispers.
“Good.” Edward smiles. “I just fetch a damp cloth, and then we snuggle, hm?”
Stede nods. He watches Edward taking care of everything and especially him as kneeling between his legs, he cleans his spent off Stede’s thigh.
“I love you,” Stede says under his breath.
Edward smiles up at him.
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
He leans forward, lips brushing over each other in a familiar dance. They kiss for a long moment until Stede pulls back.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
Edward presses his forehead against Stede’s shoulder.
“Yes,” he says.
It’s the most beautiful word Stede has ever heard.
You can find more OFMD fanfics of mine here on ao3.
Where time and outward form would show it dead. (Sonnet 108)
Stede lets the words hang in the air for a moment before he marks the page of the chapbook he just read from and puts it on the windowsill above their bed. He brushes a hand through Edward’s hair and smiles down at him. Edward presses his cheek into Stede’s thigh, his eyes still closed from concentrating on the words his beloved just read to him.
“How did you like it, dear?” Stede asks. He always does. And without fail, it makes a swarm of bees fly through Edward’s head and then down to his stomach. He knows Stede would never judge him for anything he said, no matter how silly, but as much as Edward enjoys watching his partner stumble over the most basic piratey things, he hates it when his own shortcomings become visible. The brief insight into aristocracy had been enough to illustrate what different worlds he and Stede had grown up and lived in for most of their lives.
Edward loves Stede’s innocence with which he sees the world, even after the rough grounding reality tries to inflict on him, again and again. Seeing Stede smile at a butterfly or a stupid poem is the most beautiful thing on earth, and Edward hopes Stede will never change regarding this.
But there’s also fear. Fear that, one day, Stede might get fed up with him and leave for good. Not to return to a family long gone, but to a life fitting his standards, to people who are like him. There must be more. People he wouldn’t have to read to for them to get a grasp on poetry, who wouldn’t embarrass him at the dinner table or by using words that don’t beseem a nobleman and his escorts.
“Are you alright, darling?” Stede asks above him, and Edward pries his eyes open. He hums quietly and pulls on his beard as if it would regrow faster from it. “Did you enjoy the poem? It’s by Shakespeare.”
Edward huffs a laugh. “Should that name ring a bell?” he murmurs. It likely should when Stede speaks it with such adoration lacing his voice.
Stede blinks down at him, then shakes his head. “Nah. He just wrote a few sonnets and plays.” Edward can see in the twitching corners of Stede’s eyes that he’s lying.
“You must be fucking bored with me,” Edward says without really meaning to. He can feel Stede tense underneath him, and he sighs, embarrassment rising from his stomach to his tightening chest.
“I could never be bored around you. You’re a legend and the holder of my heart, Edward Teach. Your wit didn’t need books to grow. That doesn’t make it any less exciting to have a first-row seat to you demonstrating how smart you are.”
Edward scoffs. “I’m sure you have better things to do than read that stuff to me, just because I can’t.”
Stede lets out a long-suffering sigh. Edward loves his antics, the drama that surrounds his beloved like a natural fragrance.
“I enjoy doing this. I could never share my love for poetry with Mary. She loved art, but I was too stupid to cherish the part she wanted to share with me. I ignored her for hours, my nose stuck between pages. I’m glad I can share this with you. Unless you are bored.”
Edward’s lips curl into a smile. His eyes glitter with joy when they meet Stede’s.
“No. Never. I love the sound of your voice. And the crew is right—you’re the best at doing voices.” Edward’s face grows sombre. Stede’s morphs into a frown in return. Edward brushes his thumb over the crease between Stede’s eyebrows. “I just wonder what you see in me,” he says under his breath.
Stede’s face falls, his eyes growing sad.
“Oh, my love,” he sighs and runs his hand through Edward’s hair. “This,” he says, gesturing over Edward’s body. “And this.” He taps the shirt over Edward’s heart. “And this,” he ends, brushing his fingers over his beloved’s temple. “You are so much more than I ever expected. The books painted such an enticing picture of you, I thought. But meeting you, everything is so much more vibrant, and colourful, and exciting.”
Edward smiles at that. “I haven’t been the real Blackbeard for a very long time.”
“And I, for my part, am glad about it. I’m sure you wouldn’t have sat next to my bed, overlooking my recovery, if you had been fully him.”
Edward hums in agreement.
“Still, don’t you want someone who could read to you?” he mutters. He doesn’t even know why he’s asking that. A futile attempt at making Stede see his errors in judgement? He knows he can’t get rid of the man. He’s like a leech, just of the good kind. Not that he wanted to lose him, ever. Stede is the first person who ever saw him. He saw him and wanted him. Edward still hasn’t gotten used to that fact. But Stede doesn’t tire of showing him, every single day.
“Oh, it would be lovely, I suppose. I could teach you to read if you wanted to.”
Edward squirms. He had never thought about that. That was something people like him didn’t do. They didn’t eat for fun, they didn’t wear fine clothing, they didn’t learn to read. What for?
But the thought tickles him, mixed with worry. What if he’s a bad student? What if he doesn’t manage what Stede’s children did a long time ago?
“Ma-maybe,” he stutters. “If you promise not to laugh.”
Stede shuffles around until they’re lying face to face on the bed that is way too small for two grown men. They somehow still make it work.
“You make me laugh a lot, Ed,” Stede says softly. “But I could never laugh at you.”
“Because I would slit your throat,” Edward says half-seriously.
Stede snickers, not the least concerned, as usual.
“No, you wouldn’t, my love. But even if, I never would. Because there’s no shame in learning and failing, and trying, again and again, until it sticks. Didn’t you teach me that with every single weapon on this ship?”
Edward laughs out loud. “Right.” His cheeks grow hot. “I really like this Shake’s pear. I’d love to read you something from him, one day.”
Stede smiles. “I think I have the perfect book to practise in my secret stash.”
Edward gapes at him. “You have a secret stash? Of books?”
“Of course, silly. Where do you think I got this book from. You threw the others into the sea, remember?”
Edward presses his face against Stede’s neck. “Izzy misunderstood my orders. And technically, your crew threw them into the water.”
“Oh, suddenly it’s my crew now,” Stede teases. He grows serious again when Edward doesn’t take it in stride. He pulls back enough to see Edward’s face.
“Those were only books. Things can be replaced. Broken hearts are much harder to mend,” he sighs. Edward knows Stede still hasn’t forgiven himself for the pain he inflicted on him.
“I wonder if anyone found and saved them,” Stede says.
“Would make an awesome story, for sure,” Edward chuckles.
“Not as awesome as ours. Someone should write poetry about us.”
Edward scoffs. “Two old men falling in love? Who would wanna read that?”
“I,” Stede says quietly. “If I had known that love like ours existed, not only in hints and hidden messages throughout literature, but for real. If I had known that I could still fall in love despite my age. Which isn’t old by the way. Only talk for yourself,” he says, struggling against the smile tugging on his pursed lips.
“If I had heard songs about this, I wouldn’t have believed it,” Edward muses.
“Maybe not with one, but what if you’d heard hundreds. Wouldn’t you have believed deep down in your heart that it would be possible for you, too?”
Edward ponders the question for a long moment.
“Nah. Would’ve thought I didn’t deserve it.” ‘Still don’t,’ he adds in his mind.
“Oh, I shall find a poet, to tell the truth, so that others like us may hear and gather hope,” Stede says, excitement carved into every line of his face. Edward needs to kiss him, so he does. Because he can.
“Maybe I should write them,” Edward murmurs against Stede’s lips, breathless as this man always leaves him. “I wrote a song while you were gone.”
“Let me hear it!” Stede asks, beaming at him.
“Nah, it’s… sad.”
“Oh,” Stede says. “Of course. My bad. But… maybe we could write one together, each line starting with a new letter of the alphabet.”
Edward smiles shyly. “That would be great.”
Stede breathes a sigh and looks at him with those puppy eyes that make Edward always melt into a puddle of goo whenever he sees them.
“I can’t wait for it,” Stede breathes.
Edward presses his forehead against Stede’s.
“Yes,” he speaks into the barely-there space between them. “I already can read the T, you know? And I have the perfect line for it.
“What is it?” Stede asks, vibrating with excitement.
Edward smiles. “Thou are mine and I am thine.”
You can find more OFMD fanfics of mine here on ao3.
