A little more conversation

[blackbonnet_llc]

Who: Ed and Jack, Ed and Stede, Ed and Izzy
When: 9/26/2022
What Determination, Devastation and really fucked up relations



Everything is turning up shit. More than shit. Whatever is worse than shit, that's life right now. Normally he likes work on a Monday. Good solid day to be a bitch and no one can complain because it's a fuckin' Monday. And with the new scripts he can goad people to being angry and hang up on 'em which is always catharthic.

And it would be great if Ed hadn't been such a moody fucker for most of it. He'd watched Princess Bride forty-five times in two weeks. And shit face McFucker had told him under no uncertain terms if he didn't get Ed out from under his feet he'd strangle him- which meant another divorce was comin up which meant more Princess Bride than even he could stomach.

Jack sighs and looks at Edward at his little cubicle. Then takes one of the little BDSM rubber duckies that Mary gave him for Christmas and launches it in a perfect arc over the dividing cubicle in the middle to bean Ed on the top of the head. He has fourteen ducks sitting here. He can keep at it.

Comments

[silksquare]

The distractions that he'd immersed himself in the last month were falling flat. After... just after, Ed had busied himself with spending time with Izzy. They'd lasted two and a half days before the irritation started to brew. Ed had pushed back. They were married. They'd been married in some sense since he was the tender age of twenty. The shorter man could at least pretend he liked spending time with his partner but no.

The passing of the buck was also unfortunately familiar. Whenever his moods or need for personal attention got to be too much, Izzy would call in Jack. And Jack was a good friend. Let Ed watch his comfort movie a couple of times a day. Kept the beer coming while Ed's mood turned sour (He never looks at me like Wesley looks at Buttercup). Let him bitch.

Work at least distracted him enough to tune out and follow a script. Detach himself from reality a bit. Pointedly ignore the empty office that had been empty since he came back to work after a brief, lovely evening where mistakes were made. It was complicated. He didn't want to think about it because it was a thorn in his side that radiated melancholy.

He must've been staring off again. One moment he's uselessly clicking on different files on his computer and the next a rubber duck with a bright cherry red ballgag in its mouth lands on his desk. His head stings just slightly from where it had taken a layover and he throws Jack a look. The duck is returned with a little more force than necessary around electrical equipment and he huffs.

"The fuck's your problem, man? I'm trying to work!" Says the man, doing anything but working.

[blackbonnet_llc]

"You ain't done shit for ten minutes. The fuck is your problem? You're mopin' like a chick that got stood up for prom and then spent the night in the back of her busted pickup, drunk herself sick and pissed in a cop's mailbox." Not that he'd know anything about that.


"Shhh!" hisses one of their coworkers on a call that Jack promptly ignores and throws two ducks instead.

"At least you can tell me what's eatin' ya. If I gotta watch that shitface roll down a hill again I'm gonna puke."

[silksquare]

Ed makes a face. Ed makes a face because that is entirely too specific and on brand for something that would certainly have happened in Jack's younger years. He doesn't announce this to everyone else in tech support, though. Jack is a good friend. It's not his business to air out Jack's, even if he is being a son of a bitch.

The question makes him prop his chin in his palm and stare off at some of the doodles he'd decorated his area with, pursing his lips when his movie of choice is brought up as well. He squints and turns in his chair to look at his friend.

"You're only stuck with me because Izzy's being a dick. S'not my fucking fault he can't leave the phone off for an evening. Throwing him down the hill is as close as I'll get to living out that story in my lifetime."

It might be cathartic.

"In case you didn't notice, it's Monday. Nobody's got time for this shit. Nothing is wrong." Everything is wrong. "I'm fine. Stop asking. There's nothing you can do. Leave it alone.

"Go back to pissing off the clientele, Jack. Just checked out today. I can handle it on my own tonight too if you're gonna be so huffy about Wesley."

[blackbonnet_llc]

"Ain't stuck. It's a pleasure. And I can watch that fucker roll down the hill any ol time you want. Shit-- gotta call." He answers it, putting on a thick Indian accent. The call lasts about a minute before the other side hangs up after spewing some vitrol.

"Racist bastard..." And he could take another call. Could just let it go. But Ed could mooning another four or five months and even more if Hands did divorce him again so fuck it. He clocks out, gets up and jerks the plug on Ed's computer.


"Lunchbreak at Starbucks. Come on motherfucker, it's on me." And he gives him a good old friendly whack upside the head. "You're lucky I gotta date with old faithful or I'd fart in your face." But the gals want to keep him primed for an event which means he has to watch what he eats because it's really a hassle to pull it out after a few hours.

[silksquare]

He really hasn't done much in the past twenty and Jack turning back to do a call didn't really motivate him to return to work himself. It genuinely was a low day; listless. Useless. Less in general. Jack's gravelly timber calling the caller a racist manages to snap his attention back for good. Ed watches with some degree of fond exasperation when the man butted into his space to pull the plug on his machine.

Of course, he groans and raises a fuss, but it's not real. Best or worst of moods, he's not the type of man to be heartbroken over losing work here. He does grunt at the whack, swinging to knock him in the arm just the same but it gets him standing. Free lunch was free lunch.

"Remind me to send the ladies roses for their fucking trial of dating you." Ed pauses long enough to act like he's thinking it over. "I'll let you sweet talk me into lunch I guess. Rude as fuck to just unplug a man's computer, though. You know the boss has it out for me."

He huffs and brushes off imaginary dirt from his pants, glancing around, skeptical. Wary of being caught. Fuck it. As long as Izzy didn't decide to get fired himself Ed should be alright. If he doesn't get fired from their relationship.

"Can't just let me be in my head, can you?"

[blackbonnet_llc]

No shit. Jack doesn't know why Ed puts up with it. That's love he guesses. Not that Jack would know. A real man didn't love, he worshipped, and Jack was the realest you could get without crossing the line and going back the other way.

"Trial? Shit. They adore the fuck outta me." He waits for Ed to get up and until they're out in the hall before shoving his hands in his pockets. "You been in your head for weeks now though, man. That stupid shit of a boss get you in trouble somehow? I still got that fucker's comp though. Been thinkin' of sellin' it on the dark web. But not this baby." He smirks at the watch. "Five grand this fucker is. I've had cheaper teeth."

[silksquare]

“You can adore someone and still want to wring their pretty little neck. Flowers at least work on the girls” is half-muttered under his breath as he fishes out the pack of cigarettes he kept in his bag as a ‘just in case'. His hunch that Jack was going to drag him through more than a lunch date between buddies is promptly confirmed. His stomach sinks and he grimaces, fingers itching to light up. He resists. Silently tells himself that he rather Jack be straightforward. Direct.

No what-ifs.

“He hasn’t got me in any trouble. You know I’m good at covering things up, but no, it’s not like that.” He glances over at his friend, eyebrow raised. “I’ll be taking that laptop by the way. Kind of curious to see what got him that out of wits.”

It’s true. It also conveniently keeps whatever skeleton Stede had been trying to stuff in the closet close to his chest, away from the highest bidder. Consider it job security. He tries to not think about how Stede discarding his watch at the bar had been the beginning of the end. Stede had been vulnerable and too drunk, asking Ed to kiss him, just this once.

Ed can still feel the subtle embarrassment he'd experienced when returning the room key to the front desk of the premier hotel when they'd left separately. He'd pointedly ignored the polite 'I hope you're feeling better, Mr. Blackbeard' from Abshir.

Score one to Jack for just proving his point of Ed being distant. He tries to smile and wave it off. Sound casual.

“Have you even seen him in the office? Not that I’m paying it any mind but he’s kind of obvious when he flits about the departments.”

[blackbonnet_llc]

"Next time just wave a twenty under the fucker's nose and he'll dive right after it." He snickers and cracks his back before going out into the bright fall sunshine to the Starbucks across the way. Only Starbucks in thirty miles and he's proud of it.

"Givin' you some sort of trouble if you're still thinkin' about it. I can give you the laptop if you want. Izzy'll kill ne if I cut in on his racket anyhow." A shrug. He doesn't care one way or the other except where it comes to Ed's wellbeing.

"Who? Crybaby Boss? Nah." He holds open the door for Ed as bros do. "Heard he was comin' back sometime today though. We can probably catch him before he gets here and rough him up if you like. Yanno. Just for fun." He punches Ed's arm. "Like the old days."

[touchofcashmere]

It has been a very long day. A very long month. There is no part of Stede that wants to be back here. He stands in the entrance to his office, staring at it, wanting to leave. It's as if he never left it. Never threw things out the window. He might have thought he'd lost it a little if Nigel didn't bring it up every meeting. Even the picture of his family is still there, sitting on the desk, facing the window, as if accusing.

He is only here for a short while, to get his affairs in order, to make it look good. A month or two. Though Father doesn't know what he did somehow, no one knows somehow. And he has Ed to thank for that.

The poor man... The thought of him makes Stede frown. He did a very very bad thing that night, though he doesn't remember most of it, he remembers enough. The feel of a hand gliding along his cock not his own. The warmth of Ed's mouth. The tickle of his beard. His kindness. Eyes like a deep well that he'd happily drown him. And he'd... well he'd seduced him. Even inadvertently. The drink had helped of course, and lord knew how much of it was due to the inordinate position of power Stede had over him- but the point was Ed's life was probably much rougher because Stede had overstepped his boundaries.

It was alright though because it wouldn't happen again. He would seal himself in his office and make sure no one was about when he went for bathroom breaks. If he needed help with his computer he'd just...google how to do it on his phone. It was fine. Quiet empty office. Quiet empty flat. Quiet empty life.

All he had to do was have the courage to go in.

[silksquare]

Ed’s attention was a complicated thing, often flitting from one interest to another and looping back around again in a circle that looked as if a six-year-old had tried to draw it. In crayon, half on the page and half on the not-so-pristine floorboards. He had ended up returning with an extra coffee which he’d delivered to Izzy who, despite shoving him off to pester Jack, actually seemed to be happy to see him. During a call, no less. Rare form.

He had been so pleased with the turn of events that he’d almost forgotten that Jack had told him Bonnet was supposed to be in the office today. A month of feeling a sense of dread and curiosity, of yearning and guilt had passed. He’s distracted, deep into scrolling through one of his feeds when he catches a flash of someone else standing in the hall out of his periphery. Curious, Ed chanced a better look only to stop walking completely. He was not one to scare easily or to run away, not from men twice his damned size even, but being face to …side, really, with Stede after that night is enough to make him regret lunch. Regret coming in today at all.

There was enough lingering attraction to confuse and anger him and he takes in a deep, leveling breath.

“I’m sure the window’s fixed by now.”

It isn’t the most pleasant ‘welcome back’ Ed could muster nor was it meant to be. He has to remain strong. Hide his nerves, steel that soft part of him away. He should just… go back to the bullpen. He wants to. He also wants to know why Stede is just now showing his face. Neither outweighs enough to uproot him from his spot so he stands and stares and wishes Jack hadn’t decided to shit himself silly at the Starbucks. Who the fuck got 6 shots of espresso?!

[touchofcashmere]

Ed's voice hits him like an unexpected wave, square in the mouth and bowling him over back into the surf, scraped along the sand. His heart starts a rapid beat in his throat and his tongue feels swollen to the roof of his mouth as shame creeps up his neck and ears and onto his cheeks. He doesn't look at the man. Doesn't dare. But he can see him out of his periphery, tall and dark and devastatingly handsome.

A part of him wants to pretend he hadn't heard, to dive into the room and shut the door. But....he'd been coward enough already. Instead he stares in, absently holding into the doorway and rubbing his thumb against the wood.

"Y-yes... everything's fixed... Almost like it never happened..." He ducks his head. "And...it really shouldn't have happened... But thank you for being there..." He smiles at him tentatively over his shoulder, still flushing horribly and not quite meeting his eyes. "You're a good man, Ed."

[silksquare]

He wants to be angrier at Stede than he is. Ed is fine with that emotion; old friends, practically. It would distract him from tracking the movement of Stede’s thumb rubbing at the doorway. He crosses his arms over his chest, an additional (imagined) barrier between himself and Stede. Another blockade between his heart thrumming in his chest and the man shyly looking over his shoulder.

Fuck.

“It really shouldn't have happened,” he repeats. Agrees. Laments, in a hidden, bitter way. His mouth presses into a frown as he soaks in the double meaning of those words. Stede is pink. Unable to meet his eyes. “I’m not a good man.”

He should just turn heel and fucking leave. It’s obvious that Stede doesn’t want anything to do with this and is being polite. All in all, that’s favorable. He didn’t really want to blackmail the blond in the event of him retaliating and terminating him.

But no, he has to put his foot down. Really enforce just why he’s not good. Why this shouldn’t have happened.

“I’m married,” It couldn’t make him feel any lower, but he really is just here to be miserable. “To someone you know. So. I’m not a good man.”

[touchofcashmere]

"I'm married too...to someone you don't know." That Ed is married is a surprise. But then again perhaps not really. "So we're both cads in our own right." Said with a bit of a self-depreciating smile. "Sometimes people drift apart- and sometimes they were never suitable to begin with and were just pushed together. But that doesn't mean the caring isn't there. And if you're a good man, a kind man, which you are."

And here he looks into Ed's eyes and oh- oh how lovely they are.

"Because you helped me when you didn't need to and I took advantage of you- and for that I'm sorry. If anyone is to blame for this it's me. You were drunk for my sake and if you want to press charges, I won't stand in your way. In fact I encourage it.

But that aside... listen... you're a good man and you have a lot of love in you. I'm sure you and Mr. Calico will find your way again."

[silksquare]

He didn’t want to hear about Mary, though her existence was useful in distancing himself mentally. He didn’t want to hear about people drifting apart because no, that wasn’t what their night had been. But fuck if he doesn’t feel heat prickling at his eyes that he’s quick to ward off by gritting his teeth and momentarily looking away. Stede reiterates that he’s good and that nearly makes him want to pull out his hair. He settles on tightening the grip he has on his bicep in a way that he’s sure will wrinkle the fabric of his shirt. Oh well.

Some of the emotions he’s feeling are put on the back burner to let disbelief shine brightly. It’s clear from his slackening expression that he hadn’t expected Stede to say any of that. He shifts and frowns.

“I’m a grown man, Stede. Done a lot worse when drunk at that bar.” Ed makes a face, feeling unnerved for a flash. “Why are you encouraging me to press charges? We were both drunk. Hell, I don’t even think that has any fucking merit, man?”

He opens his mouth to add more to rebut but the rest of what Stede said is slowly processed. Edward’s eyes go marginally wider before he barks out a laugh, because “Jack?! No! God, no. No, not that he isn’t a good guy. My best mate – who doesn’t much care for you after this whole fucking month, might I add?” There’s a bit of vindictive sass tinging his words, because no, he’s still unhappy about being left on read for a month, essentially.

“You hardly know Jack. No...” Ed’s face pinches in a grimace. “You thought I was performing espionage for him that night. Still firmly disowning that accusation as being shit and untrue. He doesn't know and I think it's best we keep it that way." Yeah.

[touchofcashmere]

"Well, I like you anyway. Hope that counts for something. And just letting you know the option is there so if you want to, go ahead. Likely it'll be a settlement which will net you quite a considerable amount." It's gauche to always be talking abut money, and he knows that, but he wants Ed to understand his options.

He can't help but smile a little more at Ed's laugh. It's such a nice laugh. He looks so good when he's happy. Even better when he's sober and happy. Stede finds himself having shifted half in half out the door, leaning his head against the doorway and just smiling. Fortunately it doesn't take him too long to realize how that looks and he clears his throat and straightens. He dismisses the thought of Calico disliking him. He gets that a lot, actually.

And as for the espionage...

"Well I'm relieved to hear it. But... I mean whoever it is... No one can resist your charm for long. And I'm sure you care for them deeply." And what would that be like, he wonders? To be cared for so much? To be cherished? He had felt a little of it that night even if it was mostly alcohol and pretend, but they both knew it couldn't last.

[silksquare]

He should leave and he knows it, right in his bones. Ed has never felt more planted in place though, standing there watching Stede smile at him in that achingly sweet way that he feels tug like a hook in his back. Ed has thought about Stede’s smile, his lips, hair…everything for a month. He’s seen him in Wesley with every re-watch of The Princess Bride (and there had been many). He knows that he’ll have to own up to his own complications lest they fester. He would rather do anything else.

“You are extremely lax with your finances, you know?” Ed sighs, shaking his head. He seems to be weighing his words, choosing which ones would be best. Most to the point. Because Stede is very cute but he might’ve been lost in the whirlwind that was their evening when he’d accused Ed of being eyes for Izzy. “I think that a settlement in my name would probably raise one hell of a red flag for your accountant, Stede. He’s my husband.”

That he does love, despite being a cantankerous asshole. Ed’s eyes flicker toward the wall beside Stede’s golden head. He doesn’t want to see his reaction; his stomach is already twisting anxiously.

“I don’t want your money. I – Well, I wanted it. What we did. You didn’t take advantage of shit.” Ed breathes out and feels a faint rush of heat crawling up his neck. “Think I remember most of the details, yeah. Not that it matters. Or that you want anything. Fuck me, I’ll shut up now. Thanks."

[silksquare]

He took the following day off under some bullshit excuse of coming down with something.

A cold.
A swooping depressive episode.

Same fucking thing.

The look that Jack had shot in his direction when Ed had slipped back to his desk was enough to curdle milk and he’d hardly helped the situation when he refused to look at his friend. His desk was littered with crumpled stationery with messages scrawled in accusatory uppercase: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?! WHERE WERE YOU FOR HALF AN HOUR, YOU FUCK? The rasp in Ed’s voice when he responded to calls garnered a few more probing questions that hit a little too close to home. Ed had thrown those back, going for the head with every single lob. Their trip to the bar had been called off after that, understandably.

The sprawl across the couch done while meant to be at work was decidedly more satisfying than the sprawl across the couch enjoyed on a day off. Two hours have passed already and besides the anxiety inching inward from all corners he feels empty. Some self-defense forged through eons of evolution to keep the panic at bay, maybe, to keep his thoughts of Stede and Izzy compartmentalized. His eyes are trained, unblinking, on the tv in front of him and not on his text window with his husband asking where he was and inevitably calling him out on leaving him on read.

This is fine. It's all fine.

[captains_hands]

He does not have fucking time for this. He does not have time for fucking anything anymore. Time is a fucking luxury when everything is going to shit, which everything is invariably is. The shittiest thing at the moment is that Edward isn't answering his texts, despite the fact that Jack the asshole said the man had something to tell him.

Which meant that either he was trying to avoid telling him something or was too sick to tell him something or was dead in the ditch. For both their sakes he hopes it's the latter as their stupid fucking boss was acting like money was two ply toilet paper that he couldn't even be bothered to wipe his own ass with.

That's why, shortly after lunch, he takes a break, picks up some groceries and bursts into Ed's apartment with the boys in tow.

"Queen, Revenge, sick 'im," he says as he drops sets the boys down and sets his stuff on the kitchen island. The two terriers go bolting off toward the living room, yapping their fool head's off.

"Edward! You'd better be dying or about to be! I bought sushi for lunch and orange juice and I will put it in a fucking IV for you if you fight it, I swear to God."

[silksquare]

There are only two people that have keys to his place and neither of them are easy to see at a time like this. The moment he hears that familiar rasp he is torn between wanting to die and wanting to have a cry and then die. The yapping and clicking of claws on his hardwood floors is familiar, as is the way Izzy calling for him the moment he’s in the door. He twists from where he’s laying on the couch to scoop up the terriers before they can dig their tiny claws into his hoodie sleeve to beg.

They, being fearsome beasts of burden, settle on his torso like he isn’t the bastard that’s ruining their family unit. If he just focuses on their dumb little faces (he loves them so much) he can ignore the guilt for a few seconds longer. Sushi and orange juice. Together?

“I’m in the living room,” Ed’s voice sounds awful, which might allow for some believability in feeling poorly. Kind of does. “Please don’t make me chase sushi with OJ, man. My tastebuds are still kicking.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, not that Izzy was there to see it. “What are you doing here? I’ve just been on the couch all morning…”

[captains_hands]

...Right. He hadn't thought about that. He contemplates making Ed do it anyway, but isn't up for the fight and shoves Edward's share into the fridge.

"Soup then." He grabs one from the pantry, on the top shelf, the bastard, but he's not ashamed to get a step stool when no one is watching. He plops the pot on the stove and the soup in the pot and then fills a tall glass nearly to the brim with OJ before bringing it out into the living room.

"Here, drink." And when Edward accepts the glass like a good little boy, Izzy feels his forehead.

"You don't have a fever. What are your symptoms? Have you thrown up at all? Hacking cough?" He eyes Edward. "Avoiding whatever it is that Jack said you wanted to tell me about?" It better not be the latter after he'd dragged his ass all the way here.

Queen puts up his head for kisses and Izzy obliges but never turns his gaze from the man prone on the couch.

[silksquare]

He can make out the scrape of the stool against the floor and the sounds of Izzy bustling about in the kitchen to heat up soup. If he just closed his eyes he could ground himself on the other man and pretend yesterday hadn’t happened. Ed certainly hadn’t spent a considerable amount of time wondering how Stede had faired once he closed the office door in much the same way as Ed wasn’t avoiding his husband. He mumbles a thanks when the glass is offered to him, dubious brow raising at how full it was.

How – “You sure that you didn’t fill it up this full out of spite?” Of course, he is a good little boy, only he’s not. He’s probably a monster. The questioning almost qualifies for the calming drone of background noise that comes with half a lifetime spent together with someone, until those deep eyes are set on him, probing. The violent twist of his stomach is almost enough to have him getting one of those mentioned symptoms.

And Izzy fucking maintains the eye contact over Queen’s fuzzy head. Ed swallows and shivers, praying it’s hidden under the baggy clothing he’s hidden himself in.

“The fuck did Jack tell you?” He sounds strained. A simmering resentment for his darling friend rests in the pit of his belly, and it’s misdirected anger at himself, but he’s fine to pass the fucking buck for the moment. “He can mind his own business.”

Stalling.

[captains_hands]

There is nothing more squirrely than Edward avoiding the question. He leans away from the dog so that he and his partner of more than two decades are practically nose to nose, in what at any other time might lead to some sensual stress relief. Now the scant air between them was blade sharp.

"Nothing. I think he trusted my husband to tell me the truth of his own volition."

[silksquare]

A litany of curses reverberates inside of him from skull to chest and he feels some of the heat in his expression drain into resignation. He feels that sharpness between them and despises it. He ushers Queen and Revenge back to the floor and reaches a hand out in an effort to draw Izzy to sit next to him. Next to him, where he belongs. Next to him, for twenty years. Fifteen– technically. All he’s ever known, really, romantically.

He wants to stroke the frown lines in his brow and tell him he’s special and he loves him. He doesn’t though; something about using love to buffer bad news left a sour note at the back of his throat.

“I think I messed up. Got drunk last month and gave this guy a handy in a hotel. Saw him again recently and told him I was married. Made it very clear that with any luck that wasn’t gonna change.”

Ed’s voice cracks and he tries to keep his eyes trained on Izzy even if it’d be easy to look away.

“Think I’m done with the dalliances. I’m too old. I have who I want.”

It’s not a lie. His mind roams to Stede and for a bitter second he mourns what he lost before he could have it, but Izzy is there, looking at him, and damn it if he doesn’t love the man.

[captains_hands]

He lets himself be pulled down even if he knows- he knows- he's not going to like it. And he doesn't. It hurts a bit like an old wound. Not that Ed had a fling. Who gave a fuck about that? But that he was worried about it enough to hide it from him. That there was something a little more beyond the edge of it.

"Just gave him the what-for, huh? That was all," he says flatly. And then before Edward can lie adds: "Is that why you sound like you fucking deepthroated Cthulhu?" He gets up again to check the soup, Revenge trotting at his heels while Queen resumes residence on the couch.

"Don't be such a child. I don't care that you got drunk and fucked someone. I don't care that you're sober and fucked someone. I still see a side piece twice a month, but the fucking difference is I tell you about it. That's what makes a marriage work? Communi-fucking-cation. Do you just not have the balls to speak up anymore? Or is there something else you're not telling me?"

He doesn't really want to know what it is, he thinks as he stirs the soup. But he'll damn well root it out into the light anyway, like a bad tooth. It's going to fester if not and they'll become gangrenous again until he wants to be anywhere but here.

Text (sent the next morning)

[touchofcashmere]

Hello, Mr. Teach

This is Stede Bonnet, your supervisor. I realize this is a little bizarre but I got your number from the directory.

Anyway, I wanted to assure you that this is never going to happen again. I've made steps to that end. You may not even see me again, but I can't imagine there's much to miss.

I've gotten you a raise along with a couple of vacation days and if anyone asks, you don't know where I am.

Thank you, though, for taking the time.

I owe you the world.

-Stede