It's a chilly night, so Stede's confused when Ed opens a window. They're in the cabin, indulging in their now regular nightcap. He's been casting looks over at Ed above his glass of scotch, still not quite over how readily he'd agreed to being co-captains.
Ed notices him staring and makes a face. “Shit, should’ve asked first. Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Of course not, my dear.” That's also something new, the increase in endearments. Not that Stede was stingy about them to begin with (Ed is absolutely lovely, and deserves to know on a regular basis), but they come so easily now, as if a dam has broken.
Ed smiles, then turns to his pipe. He packs it full (but not too much), and lights it. He holds it in for a moment before exhaling. The smoke curling out does not smell like tobacco. It's musty and herbaceous at the same time, slightly unpleasant-smelling.
"What is that?”
“They call it ganja in Kingston, other places cannabis or just herb. Helps you relax.” Ed offers Stede his pipe. “Want some?”
“I'll give it a go, but I've never done this before, so you might need to tell me how this works.” Stede feels deeply unworldly compared to Ed sometimes, sheltered by both privilege and naivete. But Ed never judges, teaching him what he knows. Sometimes Stede even learns.
“Really, never?” Ed's looking at him in genuine surprise.
Stede shrugs. “It's not like I had friends to offer me any, and I certainly had no idea how to, ah, acquire some on my own.”
“Guess we need to make up for lost time then.” Ed's smile is conspiratorial, inviting. More than anything, Stede still marvels at how much more exciting life is with Ed in it; that he seems content, eager even, to share it with Stede.
He takes the pipe out of Ed's hands, looks at him for guidance.
“Inhale. Not too deep. Keep it in your lungs for a moment, then breathe out.”
Stede nods, takes the end of the pipe in his mouth. There's something intimate about putting his lips to something Ed has touched with his own, especially like this. He wonders if Ed has felt the same, swigging water from the same canteen or sharing a fork.
He must get lost in his thoughts, because he takes a hit off the pipe and starts coughing immediately. He can’t even be embarrassed, he’s too busy trying to get his body back under control.
Ed leads him to the chaise, sits him down. He grabs an abandoned tumbler and fills it with water, offers it to Stede. He nods his thanks and takes a sip. It’s cold, with a faint taste of whisky. Ed’s rubbing his back in smooth, gentle circles, and that helps relax him more than anything else so far.
“All right, then?” Ed’s eyes are crinkled with amusement, not contempt or mockery. He’s being invited to laugh with Ed, instead of poking fun at himself.
“I think so, yes.” He fiddles with the glass, nervous. Ed takes his hand away and Stede has an immediate, petulant need to feel that warmth and pressure on him again.
“We can try again, or there's something else we can do.”
Stede doesn't feel up to another attempt at the pipe. “And what might that be?”
“Well.” Ed looks away before returning his focus to Stede. “It involves getting into personal space.”
“Ed. You've seen me with half my entrails spilled out. I've stabbed you! I think we can get a little close.” This is a lie. Every time Ed's near him he feels like a string on Frenchie’s lute: vibrant with possibility, waiting to be struck. It's a little terrifying to think about, even as he wants desperately to find out.
“Let me tell you first before you decide, yeah? I take a puff and pass the smoke into your mouth. So you don't have to deal with… all that.” Ed's tone has gone breezily casual, like he's trying to convince Stede (or himself) it's no big deal.
Well. That is getting very close. But Ed is offering. And Stede trusts him, probably more than is wise considering how long they've been acquainted; but when you know you know, right?
“I want to try it.”
Ed takes a drag from the pipe, presses his thumb to Stede's bottom lip. Stede parts his mouth a little bit. Ed gently applies more pressure, and Stede opens wider. It's the closest they've ever been, and Stede can make out other scents under the smoke: whisky, fine soap, hair oil.
He leans in, not quite touching their lips together, and blows smoke into Stede's mouth. He takes it in, waits a moment, turns and exhales. It's not enough to really do anything, just make things a little softer at the edges, but he can see how it would with enough imbibing.
Ed's moved back but less than Stede expected. He's watching for… Stede's not really sure. Ed’s throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes even bigger and darker than usual.
“So. How was that?” His voice is a little scratchy, probably from the smoke.
“I think I’m starting to understand the appeal.”
“Yeah?” Ed’s smiling fond, delighted he can show Stede something new. (It’s strange, to have someone care about what he thinks, whether he’s in distress or pain. It’s certainly welcome, but a few weeks can’t make up for a lifetime of disregard.)
“Can you do it again?” It’s starting to hit a little more, and it’s good. It feels good. Especially with Ed here with him.
Ed nods, inhales. He pulls Stede closer, hand to his nape. Without the barrier of cloth Ed's skin is hot against him, a smoldering ember. He pauses, waits for Stede to open his mouth. (He's surprised he wasn't already gawping.)
Again Ed doesn't touch their lips together, but his hold on Stede makes it feel… possessive. Caught, like a hypnotized—whatever snakes eat, it's not important.
He's a little floaty but somehow also heavy-limbed, and he leans back into Ed's grasp. Fingers start playing with the hair at the base of his head, slow and gentle, and it feels heavenly.
“Good?” Ed's voice is low and intimate, pitched to carry to Stede and no further. Being this close, enough to feel the huff of his breath and watch the bat of his lashes? That's as intoxicating as the herb, a warm fizz of pleasure in his blood.
Stede makes a content noise he hopes will translate. It's nice to be here, pleasantly buzzed with the person he likes most in the world. He's so happy he met Ed, that they're friends. Co-captains.
Ed's gazing so soft, like he can't believe he gets this too, although Stede thinks he's getting the far better end of this arrangement. He smiles big, nuzzles into Ed's hand, squeezes his knee.
“You want another?”
It's too much effort to talk, so Stede nods. Ed leans in again, and Stede closes the miniscule gap, sealing their mouths together. He inhales slow, pulling smoke from Ed's mouth into his own.
When he pulls back Ed looks stunned. His mouth is a little open, and Stede wants to trace the curve of his lower lip. The silence goes on too long.
“Was that not okay?” Of course he's fucked it up, like he always does, through incompetence or ignorance, sometimes both.
It takes Ed a moment to register he's being addressed. “No!” His expression gets sheepish at how insistent he was. “Uh, no, you're good.”
“Are you sure? You look a bit out of sorts.”
Ed giggles. It's amused, but also a little manic, like something fraying ready to snap. He runs a hand through his hair, staring at Stede like there's something he missed.
“You kissed me.” It's equal parts wonder and confusion, and Stede finally figures it out.
“Oh, Ed! I thought I was taking another hit! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to overstep.” He scoots back before he does something even more stupid and presumptuous.
“I liked it.” Oh. “I didn't think you— forget it, that wasn't what you were after.” Oh.
After this much time on the Revenge, Stede knows what men can get up to, whether or not he wanted to learn initially. And he's read things! He understands the mechanics, even if it is purely intellectual. He's even wondered about what it would be like to do some of those things himself, although the other man was always a rather fuzzy approximation. Until he met Ed.
Of course he's thought about Ed in That Way. But it's one thing to entertain scenarios in your own mind and quite another to have the subject of your ponderings tell you he wanted— wants it too.
He takes Ed's hand, kisses each of those lovely, dear knuckles, follows it with one to his palm. And oh, if he thought Ed was beautiful before, it is nothing compared to how wonder and joy look on him.
“I think it's time to be plain. I would like to kiss you, Edward Teach. I think you would like that, and to kiss me too, perhaps?”
Ed nods solemnly, but his eyes are sparkling. “I would like you to kiss me, Stede Bonnet, and I would love to kiss you. And maybe other things, but definitely kissing to start.”