Archive of Our Own

Friday the 13th. It’s like a tattoo parlors version of Black Friday.  Edward Teach runs a special every time the damn date crops up on the calendar, and every time he hates it a little more. The endless flash art, the arguments when people expect more for the same price, the crowds and the endless grind.  He gets to spend an entire day cursing the fact Izzy talks him into running the special.

And then he meets Stede Bonnet.

It's somewhere between the tenth hockey mask and the hundredth black cat that he sees the blonde standing in front of a display of flash tattoos. He's clean cut and dressed in a tailored teal suit, standing out among the normal crowd. He’s like a parrot perched in a flock of crows, unexpected and fantastic.

Ed's gotten all sorts in his tattoo studio, but he's got a special appreciation for cute blonds apparently, because he can’t seem to look away. He watches the guy, he can't help it, especially when he sees an honest to god waistcoat and pocket watch. It’s fascinating and different, which perks up his dull day.

Blondie studies the flash, but never comes to the counter, even when the crowd slows.  Every time Ed pops out to grab another person he lingers to look at the shiny man, wishing he had time to say something.  Not that he’s sure what he’d say , but definitely something.

Ed finishes another client and hopefully returns to the front room when he sees he has a free hour.  Sure, it’s supposed to be for lunch, but he wants to talk to Blondie, maybe see what he's looking for. The guy doesn't look like he's after anything boring like another skull or jagged number thirteen.  Might be worth squeezing him in for a session, actually, a break from the uszhe.

The waiting room is empty of the cute blonde and Ed sighs. It was nice while it lasted. At the very least, it’d given him a bright spot in his otherwise dull day. He eats his lunch at the counter, sort of hoping the guy will come back, but he doesn’t.  Ed finishes and goes back to another fucking black cat.  It was nice while it lasted.

Two weeks pass before Blondie returns. It's early evening when the brilliant emerald suit catches Ed's eye while he's working on a back piece. The blonde swoopy hair makes him perk up as Fang greets the guy. Ed keeps his attention on his work, but when he sees Blondie smile it becomes an effort.  It’s a sunshiny sweet smile that lights up the waiting room.  Shit, he really wants to just ditch his client to introduce himself, but fucking professionalism and shit keeps him working.

It takes Ed a little time to finish up, but the moment he’s done he looks around excitedly for suit-guy, only to find the shop empty again. There’s just Fang with his sketchbook out.  No sunshine smile or blonde hair, no fantastic suit or interesting ideas.

"Where'd Blondie go?" Ed keeps his voice casual, but Fang lifts a brow. "He book somethin'?"

"Nah, just lookin'." Fang shrugs. “Don’t think he’ll get one.”

Ed isn't that disappointed, after all, he's only seen the guy twice. Still, Ed's bored. He's been bored for a long damn time and Blondie had seemed interesting. He's been itching to do something challenging, something not black and white. Blondie looked like he'd love something colorful and bright.  Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.  People don’t come to Ed for colorful shit, they come for dramatic greyscale.

It's nearly a month before Ed walks out in the early afternoon to Blondie back in the waiting room. This time he's perched in a chair with one of the portfolio books in his lap, his suit a gorgeous lavender with another waistcoat. He looks delicious, like a living snack, with a little smile on his face to show a dimple, his eyes roving over the book eagerly.

"Welcome to Blackbeard's." Ed rumbles, pleased beyond measure he doesn't have a client. Finally, fucking finally , he can talk to Blondie.   "Can I help you?"

"Oh!" Blondie looks up and colors adorably. "I was just admiring this." He waggles the book, it’s one of Fang’s. Ed tries not to be disappointed it isn’t one of his.  Fang does good work.

"Thinkin' of doing something traditional?" Ed glances at the current picture with interest, it’s a rampant tiger.  Not what he’d pick, but he has no fucking idea what sort of thing Blondie is looking for.

Blondie hums a quiet negative. "No, I don't think so."

"Maybe somethin' watercolor? Artsy?" Ed ventures, but that only gets a head shake.

"I think I was just looking." Blondie says softly and his face goes sad before he sets the book down. "Thank you."

Before Ed can stop him, he's gone. Again.

And it's the start. Blondie appears every couple of weeks and goes through portfolios. He never seeks out someone to talk with, he's always considerate, and Ed's curiosity nips at him. The suits, the bright ties, the way he lingers over the portfolios with happy noises is fucking fascinating.  He makes a game of trying to figure out what the guy will want.  It ranges from something fucking rude and funny to wildly elaborate.  Hell, for all he knows, he wants one of those little mustache tattoos on his finger, but Ed enjoys guessing.

"He's from a fuckin' rival studio, probably takin' pictures of our shit." Izzy growls one afternoon when Blondie has been perched in a chair for the better part of an hour.

"Fuck off, Iz, half our shit is online." Ed rolls his eyes and see's Blondie is studying a flash book intently again.  Why that?  Why not a portfolio? Why not talk to someone?

It's not like he's hurting anything, so Ed doesn't push, but he wonders what sort of tattoo the guy wants.  He comes so irregularly, but when he does he lingers with his eyes locked on various books.  He has to want SOMETHING right?

Ed's good at his job, always has been, but Blondie is a mystery as he can't quite get a read on what the guy wants.  It takes nearly two more weeks before he finds out his name, like it’s this weird high class mystery. 

"That's just Stede, Lucius' boss." Fang says one afternoon. "Lu recommended us to him when he mentioned tattoos."

Stede. Funny sort of name, but it suits him, just the way the suits and ties suit him. Ed plays his game, imagining everything from elaborate fantasy tattoos to geometric designs on the guy, but he never books an appointment. Ed’s kinda grateful, kinda not, because Stede never looks at his portfolio and that means he won’t get one from Ed. He’s never been jealous one of his artists might snag a client he wants.

"Fuckin' waste of time." Izzy growls whenever Stede shows up.

Ed disagrees.

Stede stops by one evening and fidgets with another portfolio book, this one features larger pieces and that makes Ed a little crazy.  Does he want something big and showy?  Whole fucking back piece maybe? He knows better than most you can’t judge a book by their cover, some of the most neat buttoned-up people have tattoos, but still Stede doesn’t exactly seem like he’s after that.

"Maybe you can tell me what you're after?" He offers as Stede settles in his normal chair and glances up with a nervous smile.

"I'm not sure." Stede admits, and it sounds kinda guilty.

"Just got an itch for a tat?" Ed grins and twists his arm around, pointing at the stars. "That's what most of these are.  Just wanted to get somethin’, so I picked these.”

"Something like that."  Stede sighs and looks down at the book before closing it very slowly. He doesn't meet Ed's eyes.  "It's a stupid idea, all I have are stupid ideas."

"Love a stupid idea." Ed tries to look supportive and welcoming. "Want me to help with suggestions?"

"Yes.  No ." Stede lets out a frustrated huff. "I don't know, maybe?"

"Alright, let's start here, do you have any ink already?" It's a pretty standard question.  Stede goes bright red. "That's a yes!" He grins wider. "Alright, what do you got?"

"Just a little thing." Stede mumbles, his ears going red. "I got it when I turned eighteen." 

"Fuck yeah, love those. What'd you get?"

"I'm not telling!" Stede gets even redder, but there's a secret smile on his lips.  Mischief in hazel eyes.

"Can I guess?"

The game is fun.  Ed guesses something tribal, and is shot down.  He tries for tramp stamps and cartoon characters.  He tries for pop culture and quotes.  Each time Stede grins and shakes his head with a playful twinkle in his eyes that shows he’s enjoying it.  So is Ed, it’s the longest they’ve ever talked and he finds it’s fun.

"C'mon, you gotta hint.  How about a size?"

"Postage stamp." Stede offers.

It's somewhere nearly an hour later that he narrows it down to a rarely seen location and that it's in color. It's fun and lively with Stede slyly misdirecting Ed's question all the way up until his next appointment.  Ed barely glances at his regular that greets him, he just wants to sit around with Stede a little longer.

"I should let you work." Stede sighs and glances at the book wistfully.

"Take it with you." Ed offers the book with a smile. "Maybe you'll find somethin' you like."

"I'll bring it back tomorrow."  Stede promises as he takes it with both hands and Ed does a mental fist pump.  Tomorrow, Stede will come back tomorrow.  Score!

"Yeah, mate, sounds good. M'here after 2." He answers suavely, without any ulterior motives.

“I’ll see you then, Ed.” Stede chirps brightly before ducking out with the book clutched to his chest tightly.  He looks cute, like a squirrel fleeing with a prize.  Yeah, sounds about right, he could think of cute woodland animals staring at Stede.

Stede comes back the next day and Ed's already waiting.  Okay, fine, he’s been watching the clock since he arrived early in the hopes of not missing Stede, but when he steps through the door Ed feels a smile breaking free. It feels big and happy, maybe a little too honest, but since Stede is beaming at him, maybe that’s okay?

It's been a while since Ed's stirred himself to make a new friend.  Been even longer since he flirted with a handsome man that had a sneaky sense of humor.  Stede's a little sly and a little bitchy, playful in the best way.  It's kinda nice.

It begins with Stede stopping by every few days, but he doesn’t sit in the waiting room all that often, instead he goes wherever Ed is. They talk about the tattoo shop, they talk about weather and movies. They laugh over stupid shit, and it feels weirdly good to have a break in his day that’s filled with easy chatter.  Stede begins to know when Ed’s lunch hour is and makes sure to appear then, often with food in hand.

"Is it ironic?" Ed asks on another day sprawled in the waiting room. "Like an inside joke?"

"Hmm, a little, yes."

"Fuck yeah, okay, narrows it down!" 

Ed begins to try and run down the list of joke tattoos he knows about, even going so far as to make sure to show Stede his own. Well, pictures of his own, it’s not like he can yank his pants down in the middle of the shop. Even if the idea of stripping down for Stede is appealing.

Ed learns he loves Stede's laugh, the tittering giggle and wheezing hysterics alike.  

"Why do you have rabbit tracks on your ass?"  Stede cackles wildly as Ed displays a picture of his left ass cheek on his phone to prove it.  

"Because they're goin' towards a hole." He deadpans.

Ed can count on one hand how many times he's laughed so hard he's cried, laughed while Stede begins to snort and hiccup in turn.  The blond's cheek flush red as he gasps and bends double.

And he's beautiful.  

"A hole!?" Stede gasp-wheezes. "Oh… oh my god…”  His cheeks are glowing red, tears are in his eyes and Ed drinks in the sight of the tittering Stede Bonnet like he might tattoo the moment just to make sure he never forgets it.

"Yup." Ed giggles. "C'mon, you gotta show me now, you've seen my left arse check."

"That's not how this works, you have to guess or you don't find out." Stede's smile lights up the room as he gets up. "Tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, 'course."  Ed agrees eagerly. "I'll guess then, wait and see."

It's a weird little pattern, not one Ed can count on specific days, but Stede continues to come into the shop. He looks at pictures and portfolios, compliments artists, makes little notes on his phone and Ed tries to guess his tattoo. He never seems to fix on an idea or give a hint on what he wants.

And it really digs into Ed's mind.  He wants to know what the madman wants, even as Stede never seems to settle on anything except it's something BIG.  He lingers on various pieces, but whenever Ed ventures a guess he evades with a shy smile.  Though, he's not a total mystery, not even close.

Ed learns about Stede's bookshop in the south end, learns about a failed career working in wealth management after a blow up with his father.  Learns he’s pretty recently out and still finding his footing after the blow up that had left him jobless and written out of the will.  He learns Stede has no damn regrets on that count.  He learns that Stede has suits of every fucking color, including patterns that Ed begs to see. He's over the top, he's a lunatic, and Ed fucking likes it.

Ed tells him about the shop, his tattoos, all of them, because Stede seems fascinated by every last one. Ed doesn't mind. And he really doesn't mind the times Stede touches one and asks about it.  Ed chats about his paste, where he apprenticed, the old books of sketches that had made him nearly fail school since drawing had taken up more time than studying.

And sure, he knows he's crushing hard, but can anyone blame him? Stede's cute and funny.  Interesting.  He even thinks Stede might be interested in him, but he’s not willing to risk their friendship on a guess.

"So, I know you want somethin' big." Ed gestures at the book one afternoon as they eat sandwiches at the little cafe across from the studio.

"I.. I suppose I do." Stede gives him a nervous look and shrugs. "I'm not sure. I have an idea, but--" He bites his lip.

"C'mon, try me." Ed prompts softly.

"It may be silly." Stede asserts, fidgeting with a napkin.

Ed's been doing tattoos for years. He gets they can be personal. Be symbols of grief or loss, triumph or celebration. So many meanings, but he doesn’t call that shit silly. Whatever it is, it seems important to Stede, even if he tries to deflect how important it is.

"S'important to you, yeah?" He asks softly and gets a nervous nod. "Then s'not silly."

He lets it drop when Stede goes very quiet.  That happens a lot, he learns it’s Stede’s way of ending a conversation he isn’t ready to have. Ed respects that, even if he is wild with curiosity. Sometimes a person has to come shit on their own time, however it happens.

Ed figures out a missing piece one afternoon when Stede stops by to take him out to lunch.  It's their new thing, lunches out together. Ed keeps wanting to ask if they're dates, but nervously holds back. Instead, he just loves that Stede always finds new places to take him, fun ones, considerate ones as he learns the things Ed likes to eat. He wishes they really were dates.

"This place is amazing! They have insane tropical drinks!" Stede chirps one afternoon as they head out, his suit a salmon color with a mint-green waistcoat and tie.  He looks like something Ed desperately wants to lick. “I can’t wait for you to try them, they’re just fab!”

"Mate, I gotta work!" Ed protests.

"You'll get a virgin!"  Stede’s eyes twinkle as the maniac says it with a straight face and earns an elbowing from Ed in response.

The place fun and over the top, filled with wild decorations and fake animals, like a weird rain forest cafe, but better done. Ed kind of fucking loves it, even as he teases about virgins until he gets a kick in the shin.  They end up right next to a big ass fake jungle plant in a corner while Stede all but vibrates to show Ed all the food on offer, including meals served in actual fucking pineapples for bowls.

And Stede smiles at him, smiles and fucking smiles until Ed wants to know if it's a date. Wants to hold his hand. He itches to reach over to do just that, to brush his thumb across Stede’s knuckles.  Hell, maybe fucking kiss them like he was some sort of victorian gentleman or something. He’s never felt like that before, never wanted to date someone.  But Stede’s not a hook-up, not casual, he’s important.

It's great, it's fun and relaxed, the drinks are fruity and sweet while Stede talks animatedly about a unicorn painting he's getting done for the shop door.  Fang is doing it with Lucius’ help. Stede has given up both doors to make sure it’s properly large and Ed grins, because that’s Stede all the way.  He’s like a unicorn himself, something bright and mythical, just fucking persfect.

And it’s amazing until it isn’t.  Until Stede goes quiet. Until he goes pale and as still as a rabbit in a predator's regard. The change is so sudden that Ed stops his chatter to rethink what he’s been saying, terrified he’s done something wrong, but Stede isn’t looking at him .  And Ed that Stede is looking across the restaurant at someone watching them.

It's at a table of what looks like banker bros, loud and probably drunk even at one in the afternoon, but one man is staring at Stede intently. Ed watches the flamboyant Stede shrink back, as if trying to be small. He’s like an exotic bird trying to slick back feathers as if that might let him blend in. It’s wrong, sending off screaming alarm bells in his head.

"Hey." Ed whispers and reaches out to touch Stede's foot with his own gently.

Ed feels Stede's foot brush back, but his eyes remain on the long-haired fuck that gets up from the other table.  There's a tension in the air that makes Ed's fingers curl as the hard eyes fix on Stede with apparent loathing.  He looks like a god damn predator, like a snake, something cold and vicious.

"I'm sorry, Ed." Stede whispers in a fragile voice, and fuck that, fuck that soft unhappy voice.  Ed hates whoever the fuck the guy is instantly. "We should go."

"Bonnet."  The guy's voice is snide and hard. "Do you still even call yourself that?"

"That's my last name." Stede answers stiffly, his entire light dimming. "I suppose it's too much to hope that you'll leave me alone?"

Ed grips his fork with bruising force as he presses his foot to Stede's calf. He wants to snarl up at the guy, but he still isn’t sure what the hell is happening.

"Don't want to catch up?" Nigel's voice grows hateful, his eyes blazing before glancing at Ed. "Are you on a little date, Bonnet? How interesting. "

"Y'might want to leave, mate."  Ed offers in a dangerous purr. Whoever the dickfuck is, it's clear Stede is uncomfortable.

"Go, Nigel." Stede looks sick. “I’m having a perfectly lovely lunch with my friend, there’s no need to butt in.”

"Don’t be silly, we were such close friends in school, weren’t we, Stacy?" Nigel says with a smirk and Stede looks like he’s been slapped. "She was always such an odd duck, I hadn't realized HOW odd until I heard the rumors.  And just look at her now."  It’s pointed, sharp and dripping with scorn that feels personal.

Stede makes a sound and Ed, Ed sees fucking red as the words register. That hurt noise registers. That tiny sound as Stede retreats and his face shutters. That god damn look of someone that’s had something personal ripped open for the world to see.

There's shit you don't do. Rules of society and shit. You don't out people. You don't fucking misgender them, deadname them. You don't make Stede Bonnet make a sad little sound in front of Edward Fucking Teach.  Simple god damn facts of the universe, immutable, unchangeable.  And Ed’s perfectly fucking happy to be a messenger for that universal truth.

The fucker doesn't see it coming.

"You did a punch!" Stede's voice is a bit distant as Ed looks down at the fatheaded fuck holding his nose. "Oh, uh, Ed, we should probably go..."

Ed blinks and looks up. Oh, right, public, and his hand is throbbing from the impact on the idiot's face. It’s been a long time since he threw a punch, but at least he’d done it properly.  "Right, yeah..."

"I'll sue!" Nigel chokes out thickly from the ground, his eyes glaring between them both now.

"The only judge that would hear you would be Judge Judy, so PLEASE do, I'd love to meet her in person." Stede snipes bitchily and catches Ed's hand in his. "C'mon."

Ed doesn't fight the tug, how could he?  Stede's fingers slot with his perfectly as they bolt from the restaurant together. Feels good even if he’s pretty sure punching a guy isn’t the best way to react.

The moment they hit the sidewalk Stede hunches in on himself, his eyes flick nervously to Ed and then away. It's all tight shoulders and withdrawn emotion, like he's just working to be smaller. Ed doesn’t want him smaller, he never wants Stede to think he needs to be anything other than himself.

"Sorry, mate, shouldn't have hit him." Ed says apologetically. "M'not... I don't normally do that shit."

"I'm sorry." Stede stresses and lets go of Ed's hand, he mourns the missing warmth. "I shouldn't have...I could have left, should have left when I saw him."

"You don't fuckin' apologize for phobic arseholes." Ed swings around, pressing a hand lightly to Stede's shoulder to stop him. "That wasn't your fault."

Stede gives a sad smile. "He's been shitty to me ever since..." Stede's hand gestures down at himself. “The fact we dated means he’s been especially awful sinceI came out." Stede sighs. “I think he takes it personally.”

"You WHAT?!"  Ed sputters and Stede gives a small shrug. "You dated that..."

"Living embodiment of hot garbage?" Stede offers sourly.

"Yeah that."

"It wasn't by my choice." Stede sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "It's a long story." He admits weakly and Ed catches the hand again, savoring the warm hold.

"Right, you can tell me over drinks, we deserve one."

"You have work, though." Stede protests and Ed huffs dismissively.

"Iz'll handle it. C'mon. I know a spot."

Spanish Jackie'z is a safe space. It's all dark corners and worn decorations, but Jackie is a god damn legend. It's the space Ed likes when he's feeling vulnerable, knowing her twenty fucking husbands will handle problems before they start. He wants Stede to have that surety as they get drinks. Wants him to feel safe because Stede still looks fragile and shaken.

"I never know how to say things like this." Stede admits once they both have rum and cokes in hand. "It'll sound weird."

"Love weird." Ed retorts and clicks glasses with Stede.

"I was supposed to marry him." Ed must make a noise because Stede crinkles his nose in agreement. "Every event growing up my father threw me at him. It was awful. He's awful. If there was a dance, that’s who took me. If there was a work party, I’d end up on his arm.  I was younger and… well, it became easier just to grit my teeth and deal with it. We dated, if you want to call it that, for about a year."

"Your dad did that?"

"Yes, we're... well, he's old money. My best friend Mary and I were both sort of jammed at prospective marriages.  She had to date his twin Chauncy for a while."

"Fuck, there's two of them." Ed blinks down at his hand. "Can I punch the other too?"

"Edward!" Stede grins.

Stede talks about growing up rich.  Not just mildly rich, but one percent fucking rich with private jets. It's a masterclass in the fact some people shouldn't have kids as Stede had been jammed into a closet for years.  He'd tried so hard to not be a disappointment. He’d grown up struggling with knowing things didn’t fit .  For the longest time he hadn’t even realized why so he’d kept trying to make himself be what his father wanted. Even after he’d tentatively realized what he was feeling, he’d still boxed it all in.

"It didn't matter." He sighs. “He wanted a quiet obedient daughter and that.. It just wasn’t who I was. I knew that, and even knowing it, I still wanted him to be proud of me.”

“Suppose that’s natural, kids wanting their parents to be proud.” Ed said slowly. “But, fucker should have been proud no matter what. You’re a delight, if he couldn’t see it, that’s his failing.”

Stede hums, it’s almost an agreement. "I cut off so many pieces of myself in college, and none of it FIT. I couldn't cut enough of myself off to fit what my father wanted me to be." Stede casts him a look. "Finally, I began to stop cutting those pieces away, I wanted to let them grow. I was so unhappy , and he had begun to push me at ‘appropriate’ matches for marriage, and I couldn’t cave. I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I was happy and, Ed, I want to be happy .”

"Fuck yeah you should."

Stede nervously turns the glass. "I was in my late thirties when I really embraced myself and realized this was who I was. Who I wanted to be.  You know what happened then."

"Yeah."  Disowned, disgraced, Ed knew that part. "S'fucked he tried to make you date that git, though.  Good fuckin’ riddance."

"You'd like Mary, she kneed his twin in the dick." Stede grins to himself as if remembering something delightful.  “He tried to cop a feel and wham he was on the floor making the most delightful squeal.”

They order more drinks and Stede opens up a little more. The pieces that he'd never talked about creeping free.  His best friend Mary, the way they'd been a team, how he'd been making up for lost time.  How he’d fallen in love with some ancestor of his who had left an unhappy marriage to take to see and that’s why he’d chosen the name Stede.  How he’d begun to find himself. He talked about how he still wasn't sure he really fit in anywhere or with anyone, but he was trying.  He was trying so terribly hard. 

He could fit with Ed.

Ed doesn't voice the hope aloud, not with Stede raw and spilling pieces of himself. And Ed gathers the bits up like seaglass to treasure.  The pain and triumph, the shy smiles are things he tucks away.  And it’s in talking that Stede finally brings up the tattoo.

"The tattoo..." Stede gives Ed a nervous look. "I saw people at Pride, they had tattooed chests."  He admits and flicks his eyes up towards Ed and then away again. “I didn’t know that was possible to have a tattoo…”

"On their scars." Ed finishes. He knows them, has seen them, thinks they’re fucking badass every damn time.  Tattoos over scars, making something beautiful or triumphant. It’s no wonder Stede’s struggled and agonized over choices.

"Yes." It's a fragile whisper.

Stede's hand touches his chest, thumbing lightly right where the scars would be beneath his shirt. "They made them something beautiful.  I thought maybe I could make mine beautiful too, something special."  Stede pauses and then licks his lips. “I probably… I mean, maybe I shouldn’t, though–”

"Hey, s'alright." Ed's hand reaches out and cover’s Stede’s hand lightly as his voice wobbles with doubts.

"I can't even say what I want." Stede scoffs.

"We can figure it out together, if you want." Ed brushes his thumb along soft skin delicately.

"Really?  You don't think it's stupid?" Stede looks up hopefully.

"Nah, think it's brilliant, mate." He smiles as Stede's hand turns to hold his back, fingers tangling together.

There's a smile Stede gives, it's all sweet and wide-eyed, like he's shocked into happiness.  It makes Ed warm down to his toes, makes him want to hold Stede's hand forever.

"This won't get me to tell you what my first tattoo is." Stede teases and Ed grins wider.

"I'll get there one day, Bonnet."

Asshole piles of hot garbage aside, things are easy with Stede, comfortable.  It's lunches when Ed can sneak away and Stede hunched in a chair in the studio when he can't. It's endless books of designs and websites Stede lingers over.  Ed gets back to normal with him, even while his mind plays over the memory of holding Stede’s hand. He feels like a fucking victorian gentleman, all flush faced at just a little handhold.  Him, Edward fucking Teach, blushing at just that .  Still, it’s good.  It really is.

Ed's assumption that finding a design for Stede would get easier now that he knows what Stede’s look for  is quickly abandoned. Stede pours over ideas, saves them, tucks them in folders, and never seems satisfied.

"They're jumpin' off points, mate, maybe start findin' what you like about each?" Ed offers one day while Stede frets.

And Ed notices Stede lingers on ones that Ed couldn't quite imagine on him. And, yeah, it's not like it's Ed's body, but he notices Stede fixates on geometrics and dark designs. Saves them, tags them.  He always frowns when he does.

Ed lets it go for two weeks before he finally cracks.

"Right, how about I doodle up some designs from the ones you like." Ed offers over lunch in the studio. 

"Oh Ed, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"Not askin' mate, m'offerin'."  Ed grins easily and then shoots himself in the foot.  "Wanna do somethin' weird?"

Stede's eyes light up, the maniac.

A short time later, Ed makes an embarrassing noise as Stede strips out of his shirt in the back room. And, look, Ed is being fucking respectful, alright.  He's just not god's strongest soldier.

Stede is all broad shoulders and reddish blonde dusted hairs. Freckles. Fucking FRECKLES. He’s a delight, delicious, a god damn snack that Ed would love to spend his lunch hour tasting.  Ed definitely isn't staring at the fuzzy soft belly that he wants to bite. Nope. Not at all. Not thinking of little nibbles, maybe nuzzles, maybe a few licks. He's being normal!

"Right, y'mind if I take a picture? I can draw over your chest in the photo and we can see how it looks." See?  Normal Ed. Yup, just taking pictures of his best friends bare delicious chest.

"I suppose so." Stede's cheeks are a little pink, and Ed can see the flush travel down his neck to those damn shoulders.  Shoulder's Ed would love to wrap his legs around in fact.

Nope, bad Ed, very bad Ed.

He taps into a frail grasp of professionalism to get a few pictures of Stede's chest.

"Right, so you're gonna point out shit you like and I'm gonna draw it." See?  Professional Ed, not fantasizing about his best friend's broad lickable chest. He transfers the photo to his tablet to work on. "Could even draw it on you once you like it, see how it looks."

And then it goes to hell.

First, Stede leaves his shirt neatly folded behind him, which is distracting as hell. Ed can deal with that, though, he really can. What he can't deal with is Stede seems to be just snagging things at random from designs.  

It's vague answers, half-hearted 'this is cool' and uncomfortable silence.

Stede only brightens once and it's about a lighthouse, so Ed puts it down as well.  He sketches, tries to piece together what Stede says he likes, but it doesn't feel like he fucking likes them.  It feels hollow. 

Ed's gotten good at reading people and it reads all wrong. Stede looks wistful.

Ed makes a camel. Not the fucking animal, but just a mishmash of shit that makes no sense. Even he can't make it link together in a cohesive manner. It's like some tattoo scrapbook of awkward weirdness.

"Well, maybe we'll try again?" Stede offers, his smile a little strained.

"Sure, mate."

For several weeks, every time they meet up Ed tries another design, tries to coax what Stede wants from him. Every time the man clams up and gives vague answers. He says shit that it’s clear to Ed he doesn’t really want, but he won’t back down about it.

It starts to grate on Ed, not even Stede's chest makes up for it. And that's saying fucking something because Ed's still kinda obsessed.

It's over drinks one night that Stede looks forlorn, fidgeting and picking at a napkin. "Mate, c'mon, you don't like any of the shit you're pickin', what gives?"

"How do you know?" Stede's voice goes sharp and defensive.

"'Cause I've been doin' this a while and you clearly aren’t after this sort of look." Ed offers. "C'mon. Please? What do you really want?"

Stede casts an angry look at him. "Maybe you should stop second guessing me." It's brittle, holds defensive anger, protective.

Ed's not ready for it, feels unmoored at the hard hazel eyes.  He goes quiet as Stede grabs his coat with short angry jerks. There’s something unyielding and a little panicked in Stede’s eyes. Something nervous.

"Stede..."

"Good night, Edward."

Stede stays away for a full week. No texts. No calls. Not even a meme. Ed tries not to spiral, sort of fails, rolls over the way Stede had gone from relaxed to angry. The animal flash of anger, instinctive...protective.

Ed touches on something, the beginning of an idea. But there's still no Stede.

On Monday, just before open, Stede sits on the bench in a pale suit with a box of donuts in his lap. Ed moves slowly until Stede notices him, his face masked with guilt.

"An apology." He offers and lifts up the box.  "I... was out of line."

"S'alright." Ed takes the box. And it is. Ed gets it.

Stede is protecting himself. Ed knows all about fucking protecting himself. Sees the tightness in the hazel eyes and the stiff shoulders.  Stede's ready for Ed to bring up the conversation, but he won’t.  Stede’s on a journey, and yeah, sometimes you need a hand to help you on it, but sometimes you gotta slog through on your own. Sometimes you gotta have that victory for yourself.

"C'mon, mate, can't eat these alone." Stede smiles at him, sweet and bright. "Missed you "

He goes for truth.

It's a little tense, a little frail, just at first. But between a maple glazed donut and a cup of coffee it eases.

"Popeye or a can of spinach." Ed suggests and Stede blinks at him. "That's your tattoo."

"Spinach? Really!?" And giggles, light and bell-like.

Ed guesses wrong again. He doesn't mind.

Things return to normal, Ed pretends he's not half in love, Stede pretends to look at tattoos he clearly doesn't like. Ed lets him work through his thoughts even when he itches to do more. He knows one day Stede will get there, and when he does, Ed’s gonna be fucking waiting with his inks.

In May Mary breezes into town, the redoubtable dick-punching best friend Stede lights up talking about.  He’s nearly vibrating when he invites Ed to come meet her, all bright smile and chatter. Ed loves it, loves being included on a night at a gallery and inner. 

Still wishes he could call it a date.

Ed learns Mary is an artist, accomplished and wildly talented.  He learns she's in a throuple and as disowned as Stede.  He finds out she’s happy as hell that way and celebrates Stede finding himself, that she was the first person he called when he stepped out of the closet.  And, more importantly he learns she has the same tattoo as Stede and is stubbornly unwilling to disclose said design.

“Oh no, you have to figure it out yourself. I’m not telling you.” Mary crinkles her nose at Stede. “I can’t believe you talked me into it.”

“It’s your fault!  You inspired it!” Stede protests, beaming and smiling, so happy with Mary.

And most important of all, he learns Stede loves flowers. Adores them.

It's hidden, the way he lingers at paintings of brilliant exotic flowers.  The soft whisper when he says the latin name to himself.  And it's like watching a deer, because Ed has to watch without watching. Any time Stede sees he's watched he stops his enjoyment.  He looks guilty every time.

"Fuckin' gorgeous, this one." Ed says about a painting of a woman sprawled on a bed of flowers. "Flowers really pop, huh?"

"I dunno." Stede mutters and gives a nervous flick. "Guess they're pretty interesting for flowers."

Ed hums and lets it drop, but smiles as Stede lingers at the painting.  Stede loves flowers, adores them, and it’s like finding gold among the sea-glass facts he’s picked up about his best friend.

It's a mirror, watching Stede make himself smaller and trying to STILL push himself in a box he thinks he should fit in.  Hell, Ed aches with sympathy as one evening, he stares at his portfolio and sketches.  The darkness of them, the sameness, the fucking expectations that have ground him down.

So, Ed thinks and maybe drinks a bit, sits at his desk and stares at another black and white design. And why the fuck is he only doing that? Why can't he have some fucking color?

Why can't Stede have some damn flowers?

So he does something impulsive in the wee hours of the night.

"Ed, I've got--AHH WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!" Stede's shriek breaks through the parking lot and Ed rubs his bare lower face.

"Yeah. Shaved it, wanted a change." He shifts nervously as Stede's eyes fix on his chin.  Ed lifts his hands. "From here to here is freezing."

Stede keeps staring.

And Ed begins to feel that doubt, niggling feelings begin eating at him.  Maybe he looks stupid. Maybe his horrible naked chin disgusts Stede. Panic sets in.

And fingers, soft fingers, trace his chin and he freezes as Stede's smiles. The thumb brushes Ed's cheek feather soft.  He holds his breath.

"You look great." Stede breathes.

Ed wants to press into Stede's touch. Wants to roll around in it like a cat with catnip. He trembles with the urge as Stede's eyes fix on him, study him, and it feels important. Something tentative, something NEW. He could turn his head, place his lips to the soft silk of Stede's palm. He wants to–

The sound of a passing group breaks it, startles Stede who goes strawberry pink. It's something, that moment, a hint that Stede feels it to. That maybe it's not just Ed's heart on the line.

And he realizes his beard can't hide his smile.

"What?" Stede asks about the smile.

"C'mon, Pride awaits." Ed says gruffly.

It's a good day, all wild colors and loud music, booths and handouts, chilling in the grass with a joint. Stede's large eyed and eager, bouncing and wriggling like a puppy until Ed debates a leash on him.

Does NOT linger on the thought of leashes and Stede. 

Just enjoys the day. Enjoys his friend.

He learns Stede giggles while high, not just laughs, but high pitched wheezy giggles that bring tears to his eyes. They eat too expensive baked goods and Ed doesn't think about kissing the frosting off Stede's lips.  You don't kiss frosting off your best friend's lips. There's rules.

"Oh." Stede pauses and his eyes go wistful, making Ed tip his head to see why. 

It's a group hanging out, a few guys sprawled on the grass like they are. One of them has glittering rainbow hued snakes across his chest, masking the scars in their coils.  It’s gorgeous and showy, the sort of shit that makes Ed want to find the tattoo artist to pass on his compliments.

"S'pretty good work." Ed says and Stede twitches.

And Stede wants, Ed can see it, watches as he goes quiet. Stede fidgets and finally puffs out a breath.

"I still want something." Stede says and looks determined. "Something cool."

"Thought you wanted somethin' beautiful?" Ed could bite his pot-loosened tongue.  Stede goes quiet and shrugs.

And maybe it's the pot. Maybe it's seeing himself in the mirror of Stede's doubts. Maybe it's feeling those doubts in his bones, like Stede is convinced he's an imposter at a party he wasn't invited to.

Maybe it's because Ed's in love. He does a second impulsive thing in two days.

He buys tickets that night and doesn’t look back.

"A conservatory?" Stede frowns as they get out of the car and Ed shrugs. 

"Wanted to try some new shit." Ed makes the excuse. "Wanted company."

And Stede stares at the building and the large glass dome with a poorly hidden delight. Ed hates he tries to hide it, feels like he should.

"C'mon."

Ed knows shit about flowers, but he'd found this. Found a place with tropical gardens and waterfalls, with blooming exotic plants and an entire fucking world filled with butterflies. And it's not a lie, he bought a whole fancy pack of colored pencils for this.

Ed's tired of a black and white world.

Stede does that thing, that sort of affected nonchalance thing, even as his eyes dart like he's watching a tennis match. It's all eagerness he can't quite hide. Stede whispers the latin names to himself, lingering over brilliant blooms and colors.

Ed gets out his sketch book and hides his smile.

Stede loves flowers.

It's a core fact, hidden away by the magpie in Ed's soul, and he begins to draw with color. Brilliant and pink, deep greens and shadowed blues.

And Stede begins to unthaw, inches out from a box he's made for himself and finds butterflies.

"Siproetea Stelenes.  Malachite butterfly." Stede crouches by a massive green plant, his face soft. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

Ed pauses in his latest sketch to see Stede fixated on the jewelbright insect.  He barely breathes before the butterfly takes off.

"Yeah. He is." Ed whispers.

And, okay, maybe Ed is just lost in sketching, maybe his mind on Stede, on seeing him blossom like one of the fancy fucking flowers.  However it goes, his sketch changes to something else entirely.

It's a spill of flowers and vines, blossoms spilling from the base of a lighthouse, lifting it up.

And Ed loses himself in it, forgets everything, he shades and adds color. Deep greens and teals, sapphire. Iris and lilies, orchids and lilacs. Remembers the shape of scars and follows them with creeping phlox.

He draws Stede as flowers. Draws Stede’s smile in the stamen and laughter in the petals.

Ed forgets and forgets and FORGETS he's not alone. He draws love in flowers, soft strength. He only remembers when he hears Stede's hitched breath. He remembers when Stede sits beside him, reaching out to touch the page.

"S'not bad, eh?" Ed deflects, he feels SEEN.

"Ed." Stede takes the sketch.

"Not my usual." He tries to hide, does the shit Stede does, gruff voice deflecting as he looks at love given life and color. "Probably should--"

"Edward." Stede's fingers hover over the lighthouse and the tiny hidden butterfly. "What is this?"

"Just.. an idea." Ed admits and yeah, feels too seen.

Stede touches the vines, they follow the sweep of Stede's scars. Fuck, he'd memorized them, stared at the picture, knows how they go.  

"For?" Stede's eyes stay on the sketch.

Ed could lie.

Ed could deflect.

"For you." He whispers and rests a finger to Stede's chest. "For somethin' beautiful."

There's a quiet that stretches out, a waiting. Ed doesn't breathe, doesn't move.  Stede's finger hovers above the sketch, his eyes searching it as if studying it for some universal answer.

Then the silence breaks.

"I love it." Stede whispers it like a secret.

I love you. Ed thinks.

"Would you draw it on me? Not..a tattoo, just a drawing?" Stede asks and finally, FINALLY, looks up with eyes bright.  "See if it looks...cool." Stede winces at the word.

"See if looks beautiful." Ed responds, because it's fucking true. Stede deserves beauty. "I can do that, be happy too."

That's how Stede ends up stretched out on a chair in Ed's studio, bare chested and flushed, chased with freckles that Ed lingers over. Did the Greeks feel this way when they named the constellations? Did they burn with the need to memorize the pattern of them.

"Hold still." Ed arranges the markers.

Ed draws from his sketch. He feels his emotions being laid down with the markers, feels the warmth of Stede's chest, the steady soft sound of his breathing. Ed leans over him, it's an intimacy that makes his heart race.

Line by line, color by color, he lays down beauty. Softness. And strength.

It's an intimacy that Ed wants to purr and roll in it, carry it close to his skin for the rest of his life. Stede is pliant under his touch, relaxed. Ed loves seeing color spreading under his touch.

"Lilium ‘Maculatum." Stede offers.

"Hm?"

"My favorite flowers." Stede clarifies. "Elodie lilies."

"I can do that." Ed glances up to see Stede watching him nervously while Ed looks up a picture. "S'fuckin' gorgeous, mate."

"It.. it doesn't seem like I should have flowers, though, right?" Stede asks in a tiny voice. "Maybe just vines? A tree?"

"Do you like flowers, Stede?"

"Yes." He sounds sad.

Ed works for a minute, thinking. "You should." He says. "Love flowers and fuckin' color. Flowers are tough as shit, growin' in cracks in the pavement when they have to. Things don't need to be dark and sharp to be strong."

And isn't that the truth?

"S'okay to be soft." Ed whispers. "I think I like bein' soft."

Stede goes quiet. Goes thoughtful. Ed continues to work in the silence, it doesn't feel strained. It feels like Stede's piecing something together.

When he speaks it's hesitant. "Could you add edelweiss?"

"Yeah? Ed grins, breathless.

"It means courage." Stede says shyly.

"'Course i can."

Ed takes his time, memorizes the topography of Stede's chest, the points that are sensitive, the places that aren't.

"Can I move?" Stede whispers as Ed stares at the design proudly. "Is it dry?"

Ed hums and leans forward to blow across the drying design. Stede's breath hitches. "Yeah. Go look."

Ed tries to not spiral as Stede stands in front of the mirror. He watched Stede's hands hover over his chest, not touching, but he clearly wants to.

The silence drags out.

"I can change shit, anything you wanted." He breaks the silence that goes too long.

Stede touches a little edelweiss flower.

He sees shit he wants to change already, spots he can improve.  Fidgets and tries to be quiet, tries to not say more because Stede traces the hidden line of his scars.

"Oh." It's so quiet, barely there, and then Ed shoots up because it's followed with a soft wet sniffle. "It's me." Soft as a prayer.

And it is. It's bright and beautiful, it's strong and striking. It's Stede hidden in vines and peeping through flowers. Stede in the wings of a butterfly.

"Yeah, it is." Ed says as Stede turns.

And Ed does a third impulsive thing.  He leans in to ghost a light kiss to the top of the lighthouse.

"Ed." Stede whispers and Ed doesn't look up, half scared, mostly in love, afraid of what he'll see. "Edward."

A touch to his chin, and Ed doesn't have a choice but to meet hazel eyes. It's fate, a foregone conclusion, and then…Stede's lips catch his own.

They are soft, a butterfly wing, a petal.

Ed cups Stede's cheeks and lets himself fall, lets himself fucking FLY. He feels hands on his hips, the dart of a tongue, swallows a sound that might be embarrassing if he thought about it.

Instead he thinks of the princess bride and those five fucking kisses.  He gets it. Purity and passion. This one blows them all out of the water.

When Stede pulls back Ed blinks his eyes open slowly, feels the ghost of heat left behind on his lips. He feels kinda slow and stupid, and a tiny bit scared. "You...meant to do that?"

Stede hums and steps into his space. "Better try again if you're doubting it." And Stede grins, bright as the dawn.

A second kiss, just to be sure. A third because Ed simply can. A fourth and fifth as they stumble upstairs to his apartment. A sixth with Ed pressed to the wall.

A seventh in Ed's bed, dragging Stede down with him.  Kissing until their lips are swollen. Kissing like it's a miracle. Maybe it is.

Ed loses count of their kisses, they seem endless and growing hotter. He bites kisses along Stede’s shoulder, laving the marks with his tongue. Ed whines when Stede finds out how sensitive his neck is.

Ed creates a new core memory at the sight of Stede gasping and crying out. "Ed, please, PLEASE!"

He stares down at Stede Bonnet in his bed, head back and lips parted, his chest a glory of beauty and Ed loves him. Fucking loves every part of him as he slides into the heat of Stede’s body for the first time, loves feeling strong legs wrapping around him with a soft yes, yes, please… like that, darling.  Edward!   He tries to show it with every move of his hips, feels Stede's touch returning that love. Hears it breathed into his ear, feels the grip of fingers against his shoulders.

An ouroboros of adoration feeding into each other. At last .

It's sometime after, while they tangle together and share aimless touches, that Stede giggles.  It's sweet and lovely, until Ed sees the mess.

"Fucks sake, those were not waterproof markers." Ed groans and stares down his chest, drying sweat and color that've marked both of them.

"Nope." Stede agrees giggling.

Ed finds himself pressed back in the bed, fingers tickling his sides as he grumbles about his sheets. It's so easy, as easy as breathing, laughing at the mess. Reveling in the gentle touches.

"You'll do another one." Stede kisses his nose tip.

"Yeah, I will."

"In permanent ink." Stede whispers.

Three words. And Ed hears the surety ring in them. The smile Stede gives him makes his heart swell, slamming against his ribs.

"Yeah?" Ed asks and cups Stede's hips in his hands.

"Yes. I want... I want something beautiful." He kisses the words against Ed's lips. "I want something from you."

Something beautiful, something from Ed. He can't contain the smile as he cards through Stede's curls. It makes his chest tight as Ed pulls him in close.

"You're beautiful." He murmurs softly. "This is really happening?"

"It is." Stede assures. "Long as you want me."

"Forever it is." Ed grins.

There's another kiss, he folds away into Ed's folder of things he adores about Stede. Adores the way Stede snuggles over him, messy and relaxed. His hand traces the hip, and Ed grins to himself. He tips his head and looks down the curve of Stede's bare back. 

And finally sees Stede's first tattoo.

"Stede?" Ed kisses the rounded shoulder and Stede hums softly. "Told ya I'd find your first tattoo."

"Edward..." Stede flushes red.

Ed grins even wider and brushes a thumb over the tattooed heart. "A beanie baby tag?"

Stede groans. "It's a long story!"

"Got all the time in the world, babe."

Stede's Beanie Baby Tag Tattoo

A year later and the buzz of the tattoo gun is familiar, a sound Ed finds soothing, even if it makes Stede tense up after the hours it's taken on his chest tattoo.  He relaxes even as he sees the sweat beading Stede's furrowed brow.

"Doin' okay?" Ed checks in again.

"I'm...yes, yes of course."

It had taken work. Training. Stede's stubbornness had come into play when Ed had debated adding a colored tattoo to the endless black. Stede had wanted to be the one do it, a wistful wish they'd made a reality. 

"I.. I think I'm done." Stede sounds shocked, a little surprised.

"Lemme see." Ed grins.

"I think it's a little off." Stede frets as Ed moves arm up where a lavender sprig nestles in the curve of his snake. A little glimpse of green at the stem. "Maybe I can-"

"S'perfect." Ed smiles, and yeah, it's a little wonky, unsteady, but it's Stede's. Exactly like the lavender on Stede's chest.

Something beautiful, something soft.  He pulls Stede in against him and cups his boyfriend's chin tenderly. The hazel eyes are filled with love, a privilege Ed's would never grow tired of.

"We wrote our names on each other in permanent ink." He whispers before leaning in for a kiss.

Ed's lost count of how many kisses they've had, how many touches and sleepy mornings. He's lost count, but still treasures each and every one.  He lifts his hands to cup Stede's cheeks and falls into their kiss.  Into love made up of flowers and beauty, bright colors and Stede Bonnet in his arms.