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A frigid wind whistles through the gaps in the inn’s thin wood walls, and Stede sighs.
The winter has been tough. Tougher than tough. The summer kept them occupied— gardening, swimming, running the business, sailing, even— but the emergence of snow and frost and hail brought with it a thick, sticky kind of boredom. Even with the fire roaring it’s still much too cold to do a whole lot without bundling up in layers upon layers. The first week was fun. Ed, lovely Ed, treated it as a game, with warm kisses and promises that I’ll keep you warm, but the novelty quickly wore off. It got too stagnant. A little scary. Every night, under two down duvets, Stede prays for warmth.
Over the past few days, Ed has been keeping himself at a distance. Stede doesn’t blame him: he’s been distant too. Doesn’t stop Stede from missing him, though. Stede’s been a bad boyfriend, he thinks. In the summertime he was able to take Ed out on day trips, shower him with little gifts, take him dancing without a care in the world. Now that ice is growing thicker and thicker on their doorstep, he feels like it’s grown between him and Ed as well. Nothing seems to melt it.
It’s dark outside today. Ed was there when Stede woke, but he pulled out of bed before the sun’s crest. Stede pretended to be asleep as Ed gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and pulled on his clothes. Stede watched him out of a peeked eye and tried to sink back into the warmth of the bed, but it was no use. He got up, then, to walk into an empty living room.
Now, as Stede warms his hands by the fire, he notices a note on the kitchen table, the handwriting scrawled and rushed.
Be home later.
Stede strokes Ed’s words with a gentle thumb. Where have you gone? he wants to ask. He pouts as he pockets the page. Stede’s stomach growls, but the thought of eating dry bread and butter for breakfast feels wrong. They ran out of marmalade last week, the weather too torrential to make the trip to town. He needs something good, warm, filling. The other day Ed made him soup, starchy with potatoes but perfectly seasoned and perfectly filling. He wishes that he had kept some. This is awful. So, so awful. Stede considers standing here all helpless until Ed comes home, but later could mean hours. He needs something with sustenance, that will warm his bones and shake him out of this poor mood he’s in. If Ed’s out in the cold, Stede’s sure he will need it too. He gets to work cutting up vegetables and bits of chicken left over from his supper last night. Still in his nightgown, Stede smiles at the thought of what he looks like right now, hair all mused and curly, delicately tucking his sleeves up to make food. If Ed were to walk in right now, he’d be pleased. He’d smile. He’d call Stede sweetheart. With a scrunch of his face, Stede wills the door to open, for Ed to stand behind it.
Nothing. Wind blows in through a crack in the wall.
Stede lets the soup simmer as he makes his way to his bedroom, getting dressed for the day and washing his face with ice cold water. He wraps himself up in a heavy woolen sweater, and goes to sit by the door. He lets his chin rest on the arm of one of their overstuffed couches, and he rests his eyes, just for a moment, just to bide the time—
“Stede?”
Oh. Oh! Stede breathes in deep before he opens up his eyes. Ed stands above him, meek, holding some blankets in his arms. He’s got a sweater on similar to Stede’s own, but he still looks cold, rigid as he stands straight up, face red from the wind. He’s wearing a hat, little snowflakes stuck on it. He tugs it off before Stede can think of something clever to say about Ed being one in a million, just like the flakes on his hat.
“Oh, darling.” Stede smiles. “You’re home!”
Ed nods. He doesn’t smile back, just places the blankets back on the couch where Stede lays. “You can keep sleeping.” He says. “Don’t let me disturb you.”
“No,” Stede says as he rises. “I’m up! I was waiting for you! Breakfast should be ready. Where were you?”
Ed turns to walk over to the soup still simmering on the stove. He stares down to the floor, chin tucked, like he’s about to cry. “Just went on a walk.”
The normalcy of his statement compared to his body language makes Stede stagger. “Are you okay?”
“Course I’m okay. What makes you think I’m not okay?” Ed says, sharp.
“Nothing, I— it’s just cold out. I thought you would have wanted to stay in.”
“Well, it seems you don’t know me as well as you think you do, then.”
Stede steps back towards the couch. “Well,” is all he can manage to say. “There’s— I made soup. If you want some. But I guess I wouldn’t know if you want some or not.”
Ed sighs. He peeks in the pot, then closes the lid.
“What’s wrong?” Stede asks again, more direct than before. “Just tell me. What happened?”
“Nothing happened, Stede, I just— fuck, I just wanted to get out for a minute and now I’m being berated—”
“Berated?”
“Yeah, berated.” Ed crosses his arms across his chest, stubborn. “I just wanted to get out of the house. Do you have a problem with that?”
“I don’t have a problem with that, I have a problem with—” Stede hesitates as he waves his hand all around in the space between them. “Your vibe. You’re upset about something.”
“A problem with my vibe?” Ed says back to him, punctuated. Stede doesn’t know if he wants to punch that stupid, stupid smug pout off of his face, or kiss it.
“Mhm.”
Ed moans, tipping up to look at the ceiling. “Can’t you just trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. I trust you because I know you. And I know that you’re being rude right now—”
“Rude? Oh, f— that’s fucking rich, coming from you.”
“You think I’m rude?”
“I think you’re bitchy.”
Stede rolls his eyes. “Just out with it. You’ve been off for a few days, Ed, I’m worried about you.”
Ed swallows. The arms around his chest tighten, like he’s squeezing the words from coming out as he stays silent.
“Is it me?” Stede asks. He clenches his teeth, braces for the impact. He knew this would happen. He knew Ed would get sick of him—
“No. Not really. Right now it fuckin’ is.”
Stede deflates. “Ed—”
“I just— I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Okay.” Stede says. He walks forward, grabs himself a bowl of the soup and sits back on the couch. He looks outside to the blowing piles of snow and wishes he was still playing housewife, making their breakfast all soft and pretty, still delusional in his fantasy that Ed would find him useful. A clang of cutlery sounds in the kitchen, and he hears Ed pull out a chair to the dining table they never use. They always eat on the couch. Stede sighs and rises, moving over to the table to join him.
Ed glares, but he doesn’t move as he watches Stede settle into the seat across from him.
“Soup’s good.”
“Mhm.” Stede agrees. “Bit watery.”
“It’s good.” Ed shrugs. “Why’d you come over here? You like eating on the couch.”
Steam fogs up Stede’s little wiry glasses, and he tucks them up in his hair. “Misery loves company.”
A bite conceals Ed's frown.
“It’s the cold.” Stede says under his breath. “It’s got everyone all out of sorts.”
“Stop trying to solve shit.”
“I’m not— I’m trying to help. It’s stagnant—”
“You’re not helping.” Ed says. “Just— stop.”
“Stop what? Stop talking?”
“Ughhh.” Ed groans, like he’s being bugged by a fly. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“Talking about it will make you feel better—”
“Yeah, for you. Not for me. I’m not you.”
Stede frowns. “But if you just tried—”
“Stede. Fucking— fine. You want to know what’s up? I’m tired, and I’m freezing, and I haven't been stuck in one place in the winter since I was literally a kid, so forgive me if I’m a bit irritable, okay? I’m fucking bored. I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel—”
“See!” Stede says. “I knew something was wrong.”
Ed rolls his eyes. “This isn't an I told ya’ so moment.”
Stede swallows. “I didn't mean it like that. I’m sorry you’ve been feeling like that.”
“I just— I don’t know what to do. This is lasting forever, and I need to feel the sun on my face or I feel like I’m going to go actually insane.”
“I’m sorry if you’re feeling unhappy.” Stede says, as he reaches out to place a hand on Ed’s own. Ed shrugs.
“Not unhappy. Just— I dunno. Maybe. Are you?”
“Am I…?”
“Are you unhappy?”
“No.” Stede says. He strokes his thumb back and forth across the back of Ed’s hand. “Not in general. I’m happy. But right now… I don’t know. I think we need to prepare more for the winter next year, love. But no, I’m not unhappy. I nearly got killed coming back here—”
“Sometimes I wish you did.” Ed says, under his breath.
The words echo around the room, bouncing off of unstable planks. It’s silent. So, so silent that Stede can hear when his own chin begins to wobble. He rips his hand from Ed’s as he rises from the table. At the same moment, Ed’s eyes widen— he looks up to Stede, snapped out of his funk completely.
“I didn't mean that.” Ed says, eyes wet and wide. “Stede, I’m so— I didn't mean that.”
Stede takes a breath in. Wind howls through the cracks in the wood. “I—” He tries, before his voice fails him. He feels like he’s been smacked in the chest, his deepest fear materializing before his eyes. He sits back down, then stands again, looking away from Ed, away from the table, away from the stupid fucking soup. He staggers to their bedroom. Ed follows.
“I don’t mean that, I don’t think that. I swear. I love you.”
“Don’t say that.” Stede bites out. “Don’t say that you love me when you don’t. That’s lying. That’s mean. Stop being mean.”
Unconsciously, he reaches for his nightgown he left by his bedside, folding it, desperate to do something with his hands.
“I do love you.” Ed says, voice shaky. “I do. I always, always, always love you no matter what. I don’t know why I said that— I don’t mean it. I don’t wish that. If you died—” He takes in a deep breath. “I don’t— I couldn’t. I love you. I’m fucking so, so happy that you came home to me, Stede, I love you. I just feel—”
“Stop.” Stede says. His heart beats up through his throat, and he fears he’s going to be sick. I wish you did echoes around in his mind, drowning out Ed’s words, louder still over Ed saying “Stop, babe, what’re you doing?”
I wish you did. I wish you were killed. I wish you were dead. I wish you hadn’t come back. I wish you were dead. He’s not happy. He wants me gone. He wants me dead. Gone. You've fucked it all up again. It’s all your fault.
Everything’s hazy, sparks and stars spotting in Stede’s vision. It feels like a nightmare, and he’s cold, numb, colder than soup can fix, and he keeps getting colder and colder. Stede only realizes that he’s gone outside when his feet begin to ache. His slippers are damp with the heft of snow, and his jacket is being tugged tight around him from behind. Stede sinks into the warmth of it, falling into the stability of hands holding him up from behind. He lets himself go weak at the knees as said hands guide him back through steps he’s already taken. The stars follow, carried by the wind into their home. His home? Ed’s home? Who’s going to keep the inn now that Ed doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore? He’ll have to ask.
“C’mere,” Ed is saying. “You can’t run off, just gotta make sure you don’t freeze your ass off, hmm?”
“What?”
Ed holds his hand as he guides Stede into the living room. He peels off his boots, strips his soaked, icy socks off, and looks up to Stede with his hands just hovering above Stede’s belt loops.
Stede nods, weak. Ed pulls them off as well, ever so gentle, and quickly wraps a warm blanket around Stede’s bare legs. “I don’t wanna force you to stay, but a blizzard’s coming in.” Ed sniffs as he stands up. “I’ll give you some space. I’ll go. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’d never mean it. That was too far.”
“That was too far.” Stede agrees, voice small. “Don’t go. Please.”
“Are you sure?” Ed asks, ripping out of his throat.
The thought of Ed leaving him all alone in this room makes Stede want to cry, more than he already does. The burning sensation tickles behind his eyes. He shuts them fast before Ed can see. “Unless you want to go.” Stede says.
“No, no, hey, c’mere.” Ed corales himself to sit beside Stede on the couch. “Of course I don’t want to go.”
They sit in silence. It’s not awkward, but it’s thick. Stede counts Ed’s breaths. At twenty-three, Stede pipes up. “Don’t you though? You left this morning.” You wish I was gone.
Ed opens his mouth to argue, but nods resolutely. “I’m sorry, Stede. I just needed some air.”
“From? From me?”
“No, not you. Everything else. I never want a break from you.”
Stede huffs half of a laugh. “Surely you had a different opinion a moment ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Ed says. “I didn't mean that, Stede. I’ve been in a bad fuckin’ mood. Really, really bad. Can’t explain it very well.”
“Can you try, maybe, instead of—” I wish you were killed. I wish you were dead— Stede whimpers, tucking his chin into his chest. Gently, Ed strokes his back.
“Yeah.” Ed says. “I’ve— Hmm.” He considers his words. Stede counts his breaths again. Seven. “I have a hard time when things are so… stable. I guess. Makes me feel like I gotta jump into action.”
Stede nods. “So you wish I was dead. For some more excitement in your life, then.”
“No.” Ed croaks. “Never. Never ever ever. When you came back to me— that was the best day of my entire life. Below meeting you.”
Stede fights a smile.
“But,” Ed continues, “It’s like— I feel l’m bad. At living like this. And that’s not a you thing. That’s a me thing. I have a hard time, communicating the same way that you do. With all the rhymes and shit. I’m not good with the rhymes.”
“The rhymes…?”
“You know, ‘talk it through as a crew’…” He air quotes.
“Oh.” Stede whispers. He wrings his thumbs in his hands. He’d never really thought about it that way before. He saw the crew improve from talking about their issues, their struggles, their lives, but it took time. Maybe they need more time to work on it, as a crew of two.
“I’m not trying to smother you—”
“You’re not. Not at all. I just need some time, sometimes, and when you tell me to just talk about it, this part of my brain just, like, hurts. ‘Cause it’s not that easy. Feels like if I fuck this all up then it’ll be better. For who, I don’t know, but that’s what my brain is telling me. I don’t wanna fuck it up. You do make me happy, Stede. It’s just, like, easier for me to feel uncomfortable. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Ed. To have made it any worse.”
“No.”
Stede considers Ed’s words. “Hedgehog.”
Ed’s hand stops rubbing his back, settling in the middle, a stable pressure. “What’s that?”
“Hedgehogs. You know, those little prickly things? Sea urchins of the land...”
Ed nods. “I’ve had a scuffle with a few myself.”
With a wince, Stede continues. “Hedgehogs will poke anything that comes close to them, even if it’s not a predator. Even though they’re all sweet in the middle.”
“Yeah.” Ed says, voice hollow. “I really didn't mean to snap at you. I love you.”
Stede doesn’t hide his smile this time, even if it’s small, sweet, watery. “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “You know, many people have really wanted me dead.”
A little sound leaves Ed, then, like he’s a deflating balloon.
“My father. Nigel, Chauncey, dear Izzy, Mary—”
“Mary?”
“Oh, yes! Did I not tell you? She tried to stab me. In the ear hole. With a skewer!”
“Brutal.” Ed says. He’s fully melted into Stede’s side, now, head laying all heavy on his shoulder in a way that makes Stede feel all floaty. He’s so warm that Stede could start weeping, if he wasn’t already.
“Mhm.” Stede agrees. “I’m sorry, if I’m too pushy. I don’t want to push you to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. Don’t think I could ever.”
“Didn't you? When I left? Word on the sea was…”
Ed nuzzles into the crook of Stede’s neck. “Never really did. Was just trying to act like it. To be all tough.”
“Hedgehog.” Stede huffs.
“M’ afraid so. You’re not too pushy, Stede. You care.”
Windy planks. Seven breaths. A few more tears.
“When you said you hoped I died, Ed…It felt like we were finally agreeing on something.” Stede says. Gone, Killed. Father, Nigel, Izzy, Chauncey, Mary, Edward, Me. Who wants to impale Stede on a fucking stick? Everyone on the seven seas, probably the great lakes, too—
“Can I give you a hug?” Ed asks. Stede must nod, because he’s surely not speaking, embarrassing sobs leaving him at the sight of Ed crouching down below him on the ground and wrapping Stede up in his warm arms.
“ —I promise.” Stede picks up on the sound of his own cries overpowering whatever sweet things Ed is saying into his ear. “I promise you that I’ll protect you. We’ve been here living for so long and it feels like surviving again and that’s not your fault— I just said what I said because I thought it would hurt, and that’s fucking— it’s terrible of me. I hate that you think that you’re not worth the sun— the moon, too. All the stars.”
“You’re not terrible.” Stede sniffs. “You messed up.”
“You’re not terrible either.” Ed’s voice is like a balm. “I’m so fucking sorry—”
“It’s okay.”
“No.” Ed says. “It’s not. Shouldn’t have—”
“It’s done with.” Stede says. “Do you still want to be here?”
“Yes.”
Stede sighs with relief. “Do you still love me?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to work through this shitty winter together, even though it’s shitty?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I’m a bitch?”
“Stede—”
“Ah, ah…”
“Yes.”
“Very well, then. We’ll endure the shit together.” Confidence seeps through into Stede’s words. False or not, it’s there. “Cause if we don’t have that then what do we have? Nothing.”
Ed pulls away, again, standing. “That’s right. I got you, babe.”
Stede joins Ed where he stands and lets Ed lead him back to the kitchen. He’s pantsless, still— Ed laughs lightly at that before grabbing him some sleep trousers from their room. “If we’re snowed in, might as well be cozy,” He proposes. Stede doesn't fight it. Though it’s not even noon they settle into bed, nothing else to do but sleep the day away. Stede doesn’t ask Ed to stay, he just does. Something settles in Stede’s chest that was, this morning, disturbed.
“Ed?” Stede asks, once they’ve settled into silence again.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll be better at looking out for you, when you’re feeling bad.”
Ed almost looks sad, at the admission. “You’re not bad at it. Don’t think you’re bad at, like, taking care of me, or whatever. We gotta take care of each other. Stir crazy and all. You know, the walk this morning wasnt even enjoyable. Too cold to think.”
Stede smiles. “I could imagine.”
“Maybe next winter we can sail to an Island. Somewhere warm. South.”
“Mhmm,” Stede says. “You have the best ideas.”
Ed wiggles on his side of the bed, pleased.
“I love you.” Stede says softly. “You know?”
It feels a little like drowning when Stede looks into Ed eyes, like Ed never thought he'd hear that again. “I know. I love you, too.” Ed says. “All this—” He makes a face, as if to say, all this wild shit! — “is only temporary. We’ll figure it out.”
“Of course we will.” Stede says. He reaches out to place a hand on Ed’s cheek, feeling the skin there. “Prickly,” he whispers.
When Ed kisses him, prickly beard and all, Stede feels warm to the core.