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The day had been beautiful. Brunch, joined hands across the table, Ed’s thumb gently brushing over Stede’s knuckles. The cable cars, hips pressed together as the carriage jolted and swayed. It was so easy being around Ed, sharing each other's company. Talking about nothing and everything, from weird childhood experiences to things about work. Ed listened while Stede talked about the different kinds of bugs he’d been dealing with that week - moth, beetle, ant - and Ed described for him some of the different types of fish they caught and the sustainable practices they used to ensure they’d be able to keep fishing for centuries to come.
And then they’d eaten at one of those hole-in-the-wall kebab joints, sitting on creaky plastic chairs over a laminate table while they ate their greasy food. Ed got sauce in his stubble, and Stede had reached over and wiped it away with his thumb and maybe they had lingered there for a moment, both unsure how to proceed, but then Stede had sat back down, biting into another chip, and the moment passed on.
When they had left the kebab shop, Ed had suggested cocktails, holding out his palm for Stede to take and it was impossible to describe how that touch had jolted through him, somehow made him feel impossibly comfortable, but also on high alert, aware of every space their skin touched, his own sweat, the intensity of his grip.
Ed hadn’t released his hand as they ordered at the bar, keeping the connection between them while they sipped through colourful straws and tried not to grimace at the overly sweet sour taste. With just a little bit of liquid courage in his system, Stede had found himself falling into Ed over and over again, a brush of shoulders and chests, just to desperately feel that connection.
And then they’d made it back to Stede’s car and somehow, miraculously, Ed still hadn’t let go of his hand and how the fuck was he supposed to just drop it? To get into the car and drive them away, drive Ed home.
A squeeze then, he’d decided. A definite squeeze and that would have to do.
But then he was getting into his car, Ed was getting himself comfortable in the passenger seat, legs up on the dashboard and then he was reaching out across to the drivers side, placing his palm on Stede’s thigh. On his thigh. Magnetism and electricity and altogether too much thought and energy was driven entirely to that one spot on his leg where Ed’s hand made contact, fingers and thumb gripping just slightly, just enough.
Stede was a fucking goner. And this was their second date. Their second bloody date, and he’d made plans to woo Ed properly, show him in a million different ways how much he meant to him, and what they could be now, going forward. He’d thought through a thousand different scenarios of how each moment should go, when the right time would be to move things further, a touch, a kiss. And here Ed was grabbing his hand, grabbing his thigh. Casual touches that tore right to the heart of Stede.
And now here they are, parked out the front of Ed’s unit. His hand, still on Stede’s thigh. His mouth, curled in a warm smile. The streetlight is all that illuminates the cabin of the car, but it’s enough and Ed looks fucking radiant, glowing in it.
“We’re here,” Stede says, a little breathy and definitely the most obvious possible statement he could have made.
“We are,” Ed echoes, but he doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t look away; he’s watching him with such an intensity that Stede doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this seen before in his life.
He’d had plans, hadn’t he? Of how to do this right? What was the right next step? A wistful goodnight maybe? Filled with a little bit of longing? Obviously, on his behalf, he’s been longing all night long, but maybe he could let Ed in on the secret a little bit. Maybe next time, maybe then he could feel brave enough to close the gap between their bodies, to kiss Ed.
To kiss Ed.
God, the idea of it is intoxicating. If he wanted, he could slide his fingers along from Ed’s knuckles, tracing the line of his arm, to his collar where his top three buttons are undone, revealing just enough of his chest. Up his neck, to cup his jaw, short beard soft against Stede’s fingers. It would be so easy. He could do it if he wanted.
And fuck does he want.
But somehow, also, the idea paralyses him. What if he does the wrong thing? Makes the wrong move? Crosses a boundary Ed wasn’t prepared for and sends them flying back to square one? Could he cope with that? Could he manage?
Surely, when the time is right, when the moment is perfect, he would know. You’d just know, right? Something in the air would will it into existence, and some part of your brain would whisper now and you would just do it, and maybe you’d both lean in and the meeting of lips would be just right. You’d just know.
Stede doesn’t know a goddamn thing and now it’s been too long and he’s been thinking this whole time and maybe also kind of staring at Ed’s lips, but Ed is staring right back and fuck what’s he supposed to do now. Ed’s thumb grazes gently over his thigh and he nearly whimpers about it, but he manages to hold it in, even if his grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly.
“Ed,” he says softly, and he means it to be pleading maybe, somehow expressing all of the thoughts he can’t put into clear words, at least not without ruining the whole thing, but Ed seems to take it differently, like a direction, and he backs away, taking that hand on his thigh to unbuckle his seatbelt and shift in his seat.
“I had a good day, Stede,” he says softly. “And a good night. I don’t want it to end.”
God, he’s so fucking earnest, how does he do that. In person and everything, open and clear and with his whole face.
“Me neither,” Stede manages to stammer, but his throat is closing over with nerves and he can’t quite look Ed in the eye right now. He feels stupid and not at all prepared for this and how do you explain to someone how much you want to kiss them but also how scared you are that you’re gonna fuck it all up?
“Text me when you get home, alright,” Ed says softly, and then he’s pushing open the car door and stepping out. He lingers for a moment, leaning over to catch Stede’s gaze once again. “Have a good one, Stede.” He smiles, and it’s small but it's warm and it lights up Stede’s insides like a radiant glow.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “You too.”
And then Ed is stepping away, shutting the door and making his way across the lawn. He drags his keys from his belt, lets himself into the unit, and only lingers briefly for a moment, turning back to the car to offer Stede a wave.
He returns it.
Fuck.