petrified-like-an-orange

[petrified-like-an-orange]

Comfort in a Copper Tub

Sat in the amber light cast by the candle, Stede accompanied Ed in the bathroom silently. Ed felt raw and known in a way he had never felt before. He didn't know if he liked it. And yet, even if he didn't like it, he couldn't say he hated it. Not when Stede had shown him so much support and sympathy. Not when Stede had spent an hour distracting him by detailing a moment of his childhood in which a horse stole his hat. He couldn't just dismiss the unwavering compassion Stede poured onto him. Not with good conscience, at least.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Blackbeard would say, "Fuck good consciences." Blackbeard wouldn't hesitate to con this kind gentleman and steal his ship and crew. Blackbeard would kill Stede, even. Maybe. Probably. 

But Blackbeard was elsewhere at the moment, and Ed didn't know why. What a shameful situation Ed was in, too, in the absence of Blackbeard. Cowering in a copper bathtub, crying to a man he was supposed to kill. Really, what about Stede was so special that he should be spared from Blackbeard's heartless brutality?

Sure, his accent was mesmerizing, and his hair was softer than clouds, and sometimes his clothes were especially comforting to look at when surrounded by a mob of dirty pirates dressed in tatters and scraps, and perhaps he could admit that he had grown accustomed to being put to sleep by the sound of Stede's impeccable storytelling, and maybe on more than one occasion he had found himself wondering what life would be like should he stay on The Revenge forever…

But that was beyond the point. Far, far, far beyond the point. What really mattered was that he had a reputation to uphold, dammit, and he couldn't let some pretty man with a pretty voice distract him from that.

Or could he? Would one day (a few hours, really) of weakness ruin him beyond repair? He thought not.

That final thought, coupled with the gentle swaying of the ship as it sailed on in the night, was enough to convince Ed that crawling out of the bathtub was not worth the effort. Stede seemed to share the sentiment.

"Mind if I join you here for the night?" Stede asked, gesturing to the well-loved tub. Ed made a grunting sound and scooted over lazily to make room for Stede. After an awkward few minutes of getting situated, the two sat, squished together (though neither minded the tender closeness.)

Ed leaned his head on Stede's shoulder, far too tired physically, mentally, and emotionally to restrain himself. And Stede…let him. He didn't push him away, he didn't scold him, he didn't laugh at him. He sat quietly and let Ed wallow in vulnerability without consequence.

It was nice to be vulnerable for a change, he decided.

"Ed…" Stede spoke softly, verbally tiptoeing around the delicate silence. "Edward, is this my robe?"

Stede was rubbing the fabric between his fingers. There was no way Ed could lie and say it wasn't: Stede may be oblivious but he's not stupid.

"I, uhm--I just needed something blanket-y and this was the first thing I saw," he answered. That was a lie, and a large one at that. He had searched through both of Stede's closets looking for it before finally finding it beside Stede's bed, having missed it the first time he looked. It has been a struggle to see much of anything in that moment because of the tears in his eyes and the panic in his soul.

Stede made no comment, he only pulled the robe snuggly over the two of them and played with Ed's beard quietly. Ed had grown accustomed to having Stede ask him if he could braid his beard. He wasn't very good at first, but he appeared to be a fast learner.

All the elements of the bathroom seemed to work together in that moment to put Ed to sleep. The softness of the yellow robe, the sound of waves crashing against the boat, the flickering light of the candle, Stede's fragrant cologne, Stede's hands in his beard, Stede's warm chest, Stede's steady heartbeat, Stede's...whole being, really.

Stede. Even the weight of his name, sitting unspoken on his tongue, was a newfound comfort.

Before he had even finished the second braid, Ed closed his heavy eyelids and didn't open them again.

As a lion tamer subdues an enraged lion, Stede was more than successful in pacifying the Kraken. Restrained were the thrashing tentacles, glue shut was the snapping beak, quelled was the racing heart. The beast was, at last, lulled to sleep, grey-haired head burrowed firmly in the chest of its protector, warm hand splayed next to its face. 

Despite what Ed may have grown to believe, Stede was able to see the Kraken for what it truly was in this moment. It was not some blood thirsty beast. It never was. No, the Kraken was nothing more than a scared, fragile boy who grew up to be a scared, fragile man, and that was okay. 

Even though the Kraken caused the seas to churn, raging seas were nothing more than a babbling brook at the command of Stede Bonnet.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Blackbeard wouldn't hesitate to con this kind gentleman and steal his ship and crew. But Blackbeard was elsewhere at the moment, and Ed didn't know why. What a shameful situation Ed was in, too. Cowering in a copper bathtub, crying to a man he was supposed to kill. Really, what about Stede was so special that he should be spared from Blackbeard's heartless brutality?

Sure, his accent was mesmerizing, and his hair was softer than clouds, and sometimes his clothes were especially comforting to look at when surrounded by a sea of dirty pirates dressed in tatters and scraps, and perhaps he could admit that he had grown accustomed to being put to sleep by the sound of Stede's impeccable storytelling, and maybe on more than one occasion he had found himself wondering what life would be like should he stay on The Revenge forever…

But that was beyond the point. Far, far, far beyond the point. What really mattered was that he had a reputation to uphold, dammit, and he could let some pretty man with a pretty voice distract him from that.

Or could he? Would one day (a few hours, really) of weakness ruin him beyond repair? He thought not.

That final thought, coupled with the gentle swaying of the ship as it sailed on in the night, was enough to convince Ed that crawling out of the bathtub was not worth the effort. Stede seemed to share the sentiment.

"Mind if I join you here for the night?" Stede asked, gesturing to the copper tub. Ed made a grunting sound and scooted over lazily to make room for Stede. After an awkward few minutes of getting situated, the two were squished together, though neither minded the closeness.

Ed leaned his head on Stede's shoulder, far too tired physically, mentally, and emotionally to restrain himself. And Stede…let him. He didn't push him, he didn't scold him, he didn't laugh at him. No, he sat quietly and let Ed wallow in vulnerability without consequence.

It was nice to be vulnerable for a change, he decided.

"Ed…" Stede spoke softly, verbally tiptoeing. "Edward, is this my robe?"

Stede was rubbing the fabric between his fingers. There was no way Ed could lie and say it wasn't: Stede may be oblivious but he's not stupid.

"I, uhm–I just needed something blanket-y and this was the first thing I saw," he answered. That was a lie, and a large one at that. He had searched through both of Stede's closets looking for it, then found it beside Stede's bed, having missed it the first time he looked due to the tears in his eyes and the panic in his soul. 

Stede made no comment, just pulled the robe over the two of them and played with Ed's beard quietly. Ed had grown accustomed to having Stede ask him if he could braid his beard. He wasn't very good at first, but he appeared to be a fast learner.

All the elements of the bathroom seemed to work together at this moment to put Ed to sleep. The softness of the yellow robe, the sound of waves crashing against the boat, the dim light of the candle, Stede's aromatic cologne, Stede's hands in his beard, Stede's steady heartbeat, Stede's warm chest, Stede's...whole being, really.

Stede.

Before he had even finished the second braid, Ed closed his heavy eyelids and didn't open them again.

As a lion tamer subdues an enraged lion, Stede was more than successful in pacifying the Kraken. Restrained were the thrashing tentacles, glue shut was the snapping beak, quelled was the racing heart. The beast was, at last, lulled to sleep, grey-haired head burrowed firmly in the chest of its protector, warm hand splayed next to its face. 

Despite what Ed may have grown to believe, Stede was able to see the Kraken for what it truly was in this moment. It was not some blood thirsty beast; it never was. No, the Kraken was nothing more than a scared, fragile boy who grew up to be a scared, fragile man, and that was okay. 

Even though the Kraken caused the seas to churn, churning seas were nothing more than a babbling brook at the command of Stede Bonnet

[petrified-like-an-orange]

Lavender Shampoo

The contents of Stede Bonnet's closet seemed endless. There was a costume for each occasion. Ed let his calloused hand feel each and every fabric he saw, barely listening as Stede droned on and on about the expectations for the party.

"...and, of course, we'll need to get you washed up. No offense, but they would be able to pick you out by your stench alone right now," Stede said. At that, Ed gave him a sharp look, though he had to admit he admired Stede's lack of a filter.

"We're pretty far out from any place to anchor, where am I supposed to bathe?" He didn't particularly enjoy the idea of trying to bathe in the sea and then struggle to catch up with the unanchored boat.

Stede looked at him, confused. "Why should that matter? I have a tub that's perfectly functional without the ship being anchored. How odd that yours requires anchorage."

This man has the craziest shit on this ship. I love it here, Ed thought. Truly, did this man's material collection know no bounds? 

Once filled with warm water, Ed relaxed into the tub. Stede was busy searching in his auxiliary closet for appropriate outfits for the both of them, so Ed allowed himself to sink into the water until only his face peeked out. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. He couldn't remember the last time he had a proper warm bath.

The window beside the tub let in a pleasant stream of warm sunlight that hugged his body, Stede had added some kind of scented oil to water that invaded his nose, the water soothed his overworked muscles and attempted to lull him to sleep. Together, these forces worked to overwhelm Ed's senses in the best way possible.

Somewhere in the room, Stede was speaking. With his ears under the water, he couldn't make out a single word, but the sound of voice alone caused some kind of tender warmth to bloom in Ed's chest. Eventually, though, he pulled his head out of the water enough to ask Stede to repeat himself. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the eccentric man still rooting around in his closet. He could help but jump in his skin when Stede was crouching right next to him, making eye contact.

"I was just asking if you prefered Lavender or Citrus," Stede said, holding up two small bottles.

"Oh, err– Lavender, I guess? What's–"

Stede poured a quarter sized amount into his palm and then began to lather it into Ed's hair. He had to clamp his mouth shut to avoid any uncouth noises, and beneath the surface of the water, his hand was gripping his knee with the strength of a desperate man.

"So much sand…I have to say, I'm surprised you don't have just one huge mat instead of hair." Stede was far too meticulous with the shampooing process.

"I do take care of it," Ed muttered. "But what kind of pirate captain has time for lavender shampoo and braid trains?"

"Oh, a braid train! That is such a wonderful idea, Eddie!"

Eddie.

He hadn't felt this way in years. Maybe never, maybe this was an entirely new experience. Auxiliary closet, copper bathtub on a pirate ship, lavender shampoo, a fucking pet name. There was some sort of nostalgia to it, a sense of belonging that he knew he shouldn't have felt because never in his life was he fortunate enough for these sorts of luxuries.

And still, the name echoed endlessly in his head. Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He liked it. Alot. Too much, maybe. The Dread Pirate Blackbeard should never find solace in such a sappy thing. And yet…

Instructions from Stede broke his moment of contemplation: "Close your eyes, I don't want to get soap in them. Stings like a bugger."

Ed listened, pushing aside any feelings of anxiety he harbored. He trusted Stede not to pull a knife in this moment of vulnerability, despite having absolutely 0 reason to. By all means, Stede could be putting on the most elaborate Fuckery this whole time by pretending to be an absolutely incompetent pirate, but Ed could hardly care at this point. Perhaps he is just so desperate to have some kind of change in his life, but the time he has spent on The Revenge has been the most fun he's had in a long, long time. It's nice. Refreshing.

Warm water ran over his head, shoulder, and face. He had forgotten how relaxingly smooth freshwater is in comparison to salt water.

Stede rinsed his hair maybe five times before he was satisfied. Between rinses, Stede gently raked his fingers through the beard, scoping out the remaining suds. In those few moments, Ed would close his eyes and bask in the comfort he should not have felt. Stede's soft, caring touch was enough to overwhelm him each and every time, and yet as soon as it was gone, he longed for more. But that was normal, and to be expected, for he was waiting for this odd, odd man to do his job. Nothing else, just a task that needed to be done, no intimacy attached. He simply had to look put together if he were to properly infiltrate this rich-people party. It only made sense. There was no other reason for him to crave the special attention Stede paid to his forlorn and brittle locks. No, no other reason at all.

He then asked that Ed turn his head so that he could wash his beard. Ed complied, though he avoided eye contact at all cost. Mainly, his gaze fixated on the intricate labels on the bottles lining the window sill. The countless scents comforted him as he tried to determine which he might like best next time. Perhaps the coconut. Maybe the rose. The vanilla bean was tempting. And yet, out of all of them, he still resonated most with lavender. After all, that's what Stede always smelled of, and was he not learning to be an aristocrat in the same mold as Stede? It only made sense. There was no other reason that he desired to be surrounded by that scent, to bring it with him wherever he went. No, no other reason at all.

After his beard was rinsed to Stede's satisfaction, Ed was given a sponge and some privacy. He ignored the lingering feeling of disappointment as he scrubbed his arms, legs, feet, back, and shoulders. Surely it would have been more efficient for Stede to wash his broad back for him. It only made sense. There was no other reason for his longing for Stede's gentle hands to take care of him in such a humbling way. No, no other reason at all.

With the tub finally drained and Ed's newly cleaned body wrapped in a soft but far-too-small robe, he sat shivering on the sofa as his wet hair dripped onto any skin left exposed. When Stede knocked on the door requesting entrance, Ed accepted him back into the room too quickly. Stede carried a small towel into the room and handed it to Ed.

"I've already dried myself off with this robe, but thank you," he assured him, declining the offer.

"But what about your hair? You must be freezing now. Here, let me…" Carefully, Stede cupped the dripping curls inside the towel and scrunched the water from them. He then set the towel on top of Ed's head and patted it dry. 

This moment of closeness, such a small detail in the grand scheme of things, burned in Ed's heart. No number of ransacked ships or drunken bar fights or unrestrained barbarity could ever fulfill his life in the way that a posh "pirate" spending 3 quiet minutes drying his hair did. He felt young again, stupid and bashful and willing to do anything to stay in this split second of bliss, to keep smelling like lavender, to keep letting a near-stranger dry his hair, to keep pining for Stede's gentle touch.

He thought of stating this outloud, then bit his tongue and thanked Stede tersely. Perhaps it was time to work on his impulsivity. He was Ed, after all. Not Blackbeard. 

The crinkle of Stede's eyes as he smiled was not unlike the sunshine that threw Icarus out to sea.

"Of course, Eddie. Now, I've informed the crew about the braid train and they are all very excitedly waiting for you to join them," he said. His hand, a beacon of love and stability, extended for Ed to take. That he did, and in the few moments in which he was led toward crew, Ed decided that he wanted nothing more than to hold the hand of Stede Bonnet for an eternity and more.

[petrified-like-an-orange]

I couldn't choose which was funnier/more accurate so have both