Chapter Text
It’s been a shit morning. Stede had been up far too late last night trying to sort through all the boring financial details of his newest adventure, and he was up far too early to try and get some good shots of floral arrangements with the sunrise in the background. Then, his key had broken off into the lock on his brand new door, so he’d had to call a locksmith. Only problem was, that early in the morning it was “emergency service” pricing. It’s not that he couldn’t afford the extra cost but, well, starting a business isn’t cheap and, really, it was the principle of the thing. So he’d decided to wait the two hours until the shop was properly open to pay their normal prices.
Since there was nothing to be done until he could get in the shop, Stede decided that he deserved a little treat for putting up with this ordeal, and his late night was insisting that he get some caffeine. So, he wandered to the small cafe just around the corner. It was quite charming, really, the interior cluttered with eclectic antique decor, windows angled for a perfect view of the rocky shoreline outside, and it smelled absolutely heavenly. Less charming, though, was Stede’s current predicament.
He glares up at the chalk menu hanging behind the counter. It’s perfectly legible, and very cutely decorated just like the rest of the shop, but it’s also about a mile long! Stede wanted to make sure that he was making the best choice he could for his much-needed treat and beverage, and so he had spent the last five minutes or so trying to read every item off the board. Not only do they have the usual coffee drinks one might expect at a cafe, but also a rather indulgent selection of teas, and proper breakfasts on top of that! Stede briefly wonders where such a small little place could be hiding all of the ingredients necessary for such a large selection.
A stranger steps up next to him, breaking him out of his wandering thoughts. “First time here, mate?”
“Oh, yes.” Stede nods politely. He generally doesn’t mind small talk, but he’s got so much on his mind this morning that he doesn’t really feel up to it.
“Menu’s a little overwhelming, yeah?” Stede almost instinctively scoffs at being teased, but the tone is shockingly genuine. He turns to the man speaking.
Holy shit. Stede’s eyes lock with the stranger’s as he huffs out an affirmative little, “Quite,” and tries not to let his mouth drop open like he’s in a cartoon.
The man standing next to him is absolutely gorgeous. Stede’s gaze slides away from warm, brown, impossibly large eyes smudged with eyeliner to track over a face framed by salt-and-pepper waves that look as silky as cashmere and a close-cropped, matching salt-and-pepper beard. There’s flashes of chunky gold jewelry in his ears and nose that briefly draw Stede’s eyes before they catch on the man’s lips as they break into a lopsided grin.
He quickly flicks his gaze back up to make eye contact. Even being blindsided by the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, Stede remembers just enough decorum not to openly stare at his perfect, soft-looking lips. Lips that are moving, forming words, like the man is speaking to him.
“–make your decision?” Stede only catches the last bit of the sentence.
“Oh, um, sure.” He hums out noncommittally, shuffling a bit from side to side. He has no idea what he’s just agreed to, and he’s about to do something stupid – like say, “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re just so beautiful I forgot how to think for a moment, what was it you were asking me?” – when the man turns away from him.
“I’ll take my usual please, Roach, and a large London fog for that one.” He turns back slightly towards Stede to point him out.
Stede only half-processes the words as he tries not to stare dumbstruck at the man’s profile. His brain decides instead that letting his eyes roam up and down his body like a creep is a better alternative.
The man isn’t just beautiful, he’s also impeccably dressed. His dark wash jeans have brass buckles looped up the sides, and the cuffs he’s rolled at the bottom fall perfectly above the tops of his thick-soled leather boots. The neck of a purple sweater peeks out from under the collar of his leather jacket, and when he turns for a brief moment to gesture towards Stede, his eyes catch a flash of brown skin and black ink between the cropped bottom of the sweater and the waist of his pants. On anyone else, Stede thinks, it would look like they were trying far too hard. But on him it just looks, well, effortlessly cool. Endlessly fashionable. Impossibly hot.
Stede thinks he might be staring now, but he can’t quite find it in himself to care. It’s not like he hasn’t found people attractive before but, well, there’s just something about the man that captivates Stede in a way he never has been before. He wants to push the man against a wall and kiss him silly just as much as he wants to know his favorite color and find out what he sounds like when he laughs.
“Box of the macarons, as well. One of each flavor, yeah.” The man smiles warmly at the cashier.
Stede’s brain finally registers that a stranger has just ordered a drink for him.
“How could you possibly know what kind of drink I’d like?” He scrambles to try and recall the name of the drink the man had said to the barista.
“Just trust me.” The man winks at him. Stede’s knees wobble a bit. “And hey, if you don’t like it, at least it was free.” He taps his card onto the machine before Stede has a chance to speak.
“Wait, I can’t let you do that!” Stede protests.
“S’alright mate, you were kinda holding up the line anyways so I’m doing myself a favor as much as you.” He shrugs.
Stede turns around sheepishly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he realizes a handful of people have formed a queue behind him.
“Oh, gosh, well that’s rather embarrassing.” He chuckles nervously. Then he shakes his head and begins to pull out his wallet, “Really, I can’t possibly let you pay for my drink when I was being so rude! Even if it was a bit by accident…”
“Well,” Suddenly, a hot drink is being pressed into one of Stede’s hands. “If you’re so insistent on repaying me, how ‘bout you keep me company while we drink?” He gestures to a small table in the window.
The cup being handed to him and the shock at the unusual request still Stede’s hands where they were beginning to hastily pull out whatever cash he could find in his wallet.
“I- really?” Now Stede is sure he’s staring. Hopefully he looks more incredulous than infatuated.
“Yeah mate. You’re the owner of that new plant shop up the street, yeah? I’m your next door neighbor. Been dying to meet you, really.” He starts walking towards the table, and Stede follows in a bit of a daze, stuffing his wallet back into his pants.
That can’t possibly be right, Stede thinks. He’s been dying to meet him? Stede looks down a little self-consciously at his own outfit, feeling inadequate in about a thousand different ways next to this man.
The stranger sits, setting his sugary-smelling drink and a small brown box down in front of him, extending his hand across the table, “I’m Ed, by the way.”
Well, it seems he was serious. Stede shakes himself out of his spiral of self-deprecating thoughts and sternly tells his brain to remember how to be a real person. He sits.
“Stede.” Ed’s hand is warm when they meet, smoother than Stede was expecting from his general appearance, and he gives Stede a familiar little squeeze as they shake. Stede’s eyes linger on the tattoos he can see on the back of Ed’s hand, following as they disappear up into the sleeve of his jacket.
“Nice to meet you, Stede.” Ed murmurs and gives a kind smile as he pulls his hand away, then takes a sip of his drink. Stede does the same.
Startled, he realizes that Ed has ordered him his favorite drink. He hums as the sweet, flowery tea fills him with warmth, the combination of the beverage and Ed’s relaxed demeanor putting him considerably more at ease.
“Did I guess right?” Ed asks as Stede lowers the cup. He begins fingering the lid of his own drink, and Stede realizes that he looks a bit nervous.
A giggle bubbles up from his throat, “Actually, yes. This is one of my favorites.” Ed’s fidgeting slows a little.
“Oh, good.” He looks up from his cup, smiling shyly. “Be a bit embarrassing to order a stranger a drink and have them totally hate it.”
“Well, now you know at least one thing about your new neighbor.” Stede returns the smile. He briefly wonders what it was about him that made Ed pick that particular drink, then dismisses the train of thought. He probably just ordered something he would have picked and got lucky.
“So, are you the tattoo studio or the vintage fashion boutique?” Stede settles back into his chair, crossing his legs. If Ed really does want to get to know him, Stede thinks, he might as well use the opportunity to get to know Ed.
Maybe you can find out if he’s single. Stede’s brain offers up unhelpfully. He feels his palms start to sweat a little.
Ed gives him a surprised look, then gives a short laugh. “Take a guess, mate.”
“Well, you do seem to have quite a lot of tattoos.” Besides the ones visible on his hand and stomach, Stede can see the top of a design poking out from under his collar. “But you’re also dressed like some kind of rockstar, so I’d say either is equally likely.”
A flush rises to Ed’s cheeks as he protests, “C’mon, dressed more like some punk kid than a rockstar. Besides, none of this is vintage stuff.” He fiddles more with his coffee cup. “But it’s the tattoo place.”
“Lovely,” Stede smiles encouragingly. A comfortable silence settles over them as they each take another sip of their drinks. Neither of them seems very keen on finishing quickly.
“So, Stede. Plant store owner, London fog enjoyer. That’s a good start but if we’re gonna be shop neighbors I reckon there’s a lot more acquainting we need to do.” Ed shakes a finger playfully at him.
“Mmm,” Stede hums thoughtfully. “Shop neighbors, what level of acquainting does that call for, then? Are we talking deepest fears and childhood dreams, or is it more of a three random facts you might find on a dating profile? I’m afraid I’m rather new to the rules of shop ownership.”
He secretly hopes for the former. Stede has only lived here for a few months, but he’s found that it’s rather difficult for a middle aged divorcee to make friends in a small town. Even if he and Ed are the type of shop neighbors that say hello once in a while and nothing more, it would be loads more companionship than he was starting to expect he would get.
“Well,” Ed muses. “I think most of the folks ‘round here prefer to keep me at the three random facts level. But I think that’s entirely up to you, Stede.”
Stede feels his heart skip a beat. Despite only actually knowing the man for five minutes, it feels so natural talking to him. And call him crazy, but from the glint in his eye it seems like Ed might be hoping to hear a childhood dream or two from him.
“I don’t know if I would call it my deepest fear,” Stede leans conspiratorially across the small table. “But I am horribly afraid of needles.”
Ed barks out a laugh, “So I’m guessing no tattoos for you then, eh?”
“No,” Stede laughs along with him. He tries not to get distracted by how wonderful Ed’s laugh sounds. “None for me I’m afraid. What about you then?”
“Oh,” Ed crosses his legs, leaning back and practically lounging in the small chair, at least as much as it will allow. “Terrified of spiders. Like, if I see one in my flat I hop on a chair and shriek, terrified.”
Stede raises an eyebrow at the large spider tattoo on the back of Ed’s hand.
Ed follows his gaze. “Yeah, thought maybe exposure therapy would do the trick.” He gives Stede an embarrassed shrug. “Didn’t work. Good thing I wear gloves at work, else I’d be sending people away with all sorts of wonky tattoos.”
It’s Stede’s turn to laugh, and Ed chuckles along with him. And from there, it’s easy. Talking to Ed feels like chattering away with an old friend, if Stede actually had any old friends that liked him.
Stede learns that Ed has owned his tattoo studio for almost ten years, that he drives an old motorcycle he restored himself, and that several of his piercings he did himself as a teenager. He also learns that Ed moved to the States when he was ten, the exact same month that Stede’s family moved here.
“No fuckin’ way!” Ed had gasped. “Small world, huh? What d’you think the odds are we were on the same plane here. Thousand to one?” Stede’s too embarrassed to tell Ed that his family had flown over in a private jet.
In turn, Stede tells Ed that he’s only just moved here from Boston and has officially owned his storefront for ten whole days, and that he has an embarrassingly large collection of rare books.
As Ed is poking fun at Stede for owning eleven – “Seriously man, eleven? Can’t you just read the first one eleven times?” – copies of Pride and Prejudice (although he generously does not make fun of Stede for reading period romance novels), Stede realizes that they’ve both finished their drinks. Usually he’s not one to loiter in a food service establishment once he’s finished his food, but he doesn’t want to stop chatting with Ed. Damn, he should’ve drank slower.
Ed’s gaze follows Stede’s, and it’s almost like he can read his mind. He opens the neatly packaged box of macarons that have been sitting at the side of the table, tipping them towards Stede. “Hungry?”
Stede’s stomach rumbles a little. “Ed, I can’t possibly. You’ve already paid for my drink, and you clearly got those to go. What kind of shop neighbor would I be?”
“A pretty good one, I’d think. Made my morning a hell of a lot more exciting than it would normally be. Plus you expect me to finish six whole macarons all by myself?” Ed jokes.
Stede’s face must still look apprehensive, because Ed continues. “C’mon, if you’re really that worried about it, you pay next time. And you can pick my drink, and the pastries. Then we’ll be totally even.”
A little thrill runs up Stede’s spine when Ed says “next time,” and he decides that if eating Ed’s macarons will ensure they get to do it again, he should do that straight away.
“Oh, fine.” Stede rolls his eyes playfully, picking out one of the delicate pastries. They taste delicious, so when Ed insists that they just split the box between them right there, Stede can’t resist. Plus, the more they eat, the longer they can stay.
Eventually, though, Ed is licking the crumbs from the final macaron off his fingers, and Stede realizes that they’ve been sitting in the cafe together for nearly two hours. Ed checks his watch and seems to realize the same.
“Shit, I should probably head over to open up shop.” Ed begins gathering their trash to drop in the bin, and Stede saddens a bit at the inevitable end of their conversation. “You heading that way?”
Stede brightens considerably, “Oh, yes actually! Got a bit of setup I’ve been meaning to do.” It’s only a few blocks over, but Stede is happy for any excuse to have an extra few moments with Ed.
As they approach their respective shop doors, Ed speaks up. “Really nice getting to meet you, Stede.” If Stede knew any better, he’d say that Ed’s tone is laced with fondness.
“You as well, Ed. Nice to know the shops next to me aren’t run by total weirdos. Or ghosts.” Ed chuckles at his lame joke, and Stede wonders how soon is too soon to offer another trip to the cafe to repay him.
“See you around, then.” Ed hesitates a moment as he slides his key into the door, like he’s about to say something else. Then the moment passes.
As the tattoo shop door creaks open, Stede pulls out his own key, and swears loudly. The morning had been so pleasant that he had completely forgotten the reason he had gone to the cafe in the first place.
Ed’s head pokes back out the door, “Alright there, mate?”
“Oh, fine, fine.” Stede pulls out his phone, tapping in the number for the locksmith. “Broke my key off in the door this morning. I was actually at the cafe to kill some time, waiting for the locksmith’s to open. You know they charge triple prices outside of hours? Ridiculous!”
“Even their normal prices are ridiculous,” Ed nods in agreement. “But you don’t need a locksmith for that, I’ve got a perfectly good pair of pliers in the shop. And I’ll do it for free.”
“Gosh, I really am a horrible shop neighbor aren’t I?” Stede looks at him apologetically.
“You can buy me a drink twice and we’ll call it even.” Ed winks at Stede, who blushes instantly.
Ed disappears for a moment before strolling back out of the shop with the promised pliers in hand. The broken key comes out easier than anything, and he drops it into Stede’s hand with a smile.
“Really, Ed, I can’t thank you enough! You’re a lifesaver.” Stede slips the key into his pocket and they stand there in silence, staring at each other for a moment.
“Wait there a sec.” Ed says suddenly, turning back towards his shop. Stede freezes in place. Not like he really has anywhere else to be now that his shop is semi-permanently locked. He tries to remember where he’s stashed the spare, but the mental retracing of his steps is interrupted by Ed’s reappearance.
“Here. In case you get locked out again.” He hands Stede a simple black and white business card. “And so you can let me know when you’re buying me my drinks.”
Ed smiles cheekily at him before turning and heading towards his shop. “See you, Stede.”
Stede gives a lovestruck little wave goodbye, hoping it isn’t written all over his face how head-over-heels he feels.
As he walks back towards his house, he reads the business card. On the front is the shop name, “Kraken Ink,” with a menacing looking, tentacled sea creature curled atop it and what Stede assumes is the shop number below. On the other, the name “Blackbeard” printed in neat typeface has been crossed out with purple ink and replaced with “Ed Teach - amateur locksmith, hot drink psychic, A+ shop neighbor.” Stede’s heart skips a beat as he brushes his fingers over the phone number scribbled below that. Oh, he is so fucked.