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It started simply, early on in their time together.
Stede, up early and draped in his silk dressing gown (the golden-yellow one with tasteful embroidery) over a loose shirt and silk teal breeches, was sipping a cup of tea on the deck when Ed strolled up beside him, black t-shirt sans his usual leather jacket and yawning.
"Morning," Ed said in a deep morning voice, scratching his scraggly beard.
"Good morning!" Stede chirped. "Lovely day for a bit of piracy, wouldn’t you say?"
Ed looked out at the ocean as if considering. "Hmm. Yeah. Piracy and a piss."
Before Stede could even process that sentence, Ed turned, faced the railing, and began undoing his belt.
Stede, ever curious, tilted his head. "Here? On deck? There’s the crew en suite. Or you’re always welcome to use the bathroom in my quarters."
"Nah, mate. Pirates don’t need piss pots. This is the best pissing spot. Sea breeze through your hair, sun warming your bits, and no splashback." Ed demonstrated, an impressive arc of liquid like a golden rainbow, glimmering in the sun.
"Oh! I see!" Stede exclaimed.
"Go on, give it a go," Ed said, grinning as he did up his pants.
“Alright then. Here, hold my tea if you would,” Stede said, handing over the cup.
Stede opened his trousers as he stepped up to the railing and let it go, releasing what could only be described as a gentleman’s stream—modest and refined, and deeply unimpressive.
“That it?” Ed asked with a raised brow.
Stede looked affronted as he shook himself off and tucked himself away. “What do you mean, that it?”
“I mean, I’m no doctor, but that was a pretty weak steam. Sure you don’t need me to, y’know, check your prostate?"
“My prostate is fine, thank you very much! I already had my morning pee, I was working with a mostly empty tank.” Stede grabbed the lapels of his robe indignantly. “I bet I could pee farther than you at first morning pee.”
Ed’s grind widely. "Oh, it’s on, mate."
And thus their morning game was born.
The competition started in earnest the next morning. Stede, eager to prove himself, insisted on going first. He wore the fuschia robe today, as he felt it weighed him down less. He stepped up to the railing, hips thrust forward to give him just that extra inch. This time, he managed a more impressive arc, adjusting his penile angle as he went to try to improve the trajectory.
"Not bad," Ed admitted, peering over the edge.
"Thank you," Stede said, puffing out his chest. "I made sure to hydrate last night.” He finished putting himself away and stepped aside. “You’re turn!”
Ed had put on his jacket this morning because he felt it gave him that extra mental oomph. He took Stede’s spot at the railing and peed in his regular fashion.
“Also very impressive,” Stede complemented in a sporting manner. “Very nearly as far as mine.”
“The fuck do you mean ‘nearly?’” Ed questioned. “I had a good five inches on you, at least.”
“Mmm, not from my angle,” Stede said. “Let’s just call it a tie.”
“Wasn’t a tie,” Ed grumbled as he buckled his weapons belt.
“Fine. Tomorrow we’ll go again, this time with official measurements.”
“How the fuck are we going to ‘officially’ measure our pee?”
“You’ll see,” Stede said, turning. “Come on, breakfast is ready!”
Stede took the competition seriously. Too seriously.
"I’ve read," he told Ed that evening as they sat for dinner, "that asparagus can… enhance one’s stream. It's a diuretic, makes you pee more." He lifted the cloche off of a porcelain tureen to reveal a steaming bunch of stalks.
Ed snorted and squished his nose in distaste. Asparagus wasn't his favorite. "Mate, this isn’t a war. You don’t need strategy to take a piss."
"I beg to differ," Stede said primly.
Ed rolled his eyes. But when Stede offered him another brandy, he held up his hand and refilled his water instead. “Hydration, right?”
“A sextant,” Ed said with a raised eyebrow as he leaned against the railing. “You're gonna use a fuckin' sextant to measure how far we pee?”
“Why not? It’s a matter of angles and physics. Simple trigonometry." He fiddled with the device. “Look, the observer stands next to the pee-er, observes where the stream meets the water through the scope, and we measure the angle. Largest angle equals furthest distance. Quite simple.”
Ed seemed satisfied by the logic. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
"Now, Ed, stand over here," he instructed, gesturing to the rail. "And aim with confidence. Remember, the sea is your playing field."
Ed snorted but obliged, lining himself up. "Alright, here goes."
Stede squinted through the sextant, his tongue poking out in concentration. "Ah! I see the point of impact. Hold steady!"
"Hold steady?" Ed grunted, shifting slightly. "Mate, I’m not a fuckin’ fountain. Get on with it!"
"Just a moment!" Stede retorted. He fiddled with the dials. "There. I’ve recorded the angle. Thirty-two degrees!"
Ed tucked himself away and swaggered over. "Bullshit. Thirty-two degrees? That’s it?"
“Does that seem inadequate to you?” Stede asked.
“Come on, man, 32 degrees, we’re about 24 feet above the surface of the ocean, simple trigonometry, distance equals the height divided by the tangent of the angle, so that’s…what, 38 feet?”
“Thirty-eight feet! Wow! That seems perfectly admirable to me!”
“Just saying, if we were at ground level, that’d only be like,” Ed looked up and to the left as he did the math, “five feet.”
Stede looked eager. “Well, I’m sure I could pee further than five feet! Competitive peeing, Edward, is an art form," Stede said, loosening his breeches. "Observe and admire.”
Ed picked up the sextant with an air of skepticism. "Alright, Stede” he said, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him and raising the sextant to his eye, “let’s see if your fancy asparagus trick pays off.”
Ed peered through the sextant, struggling to stifle his laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation while Stede took his turn. "Alright, angle’s… hang on, that can’t be right." He adjusted the device again. "Thirty-six degrees? That’s impossible!"
Stede, smug as ever, fastened his trousers. "You see? A proper pirate captain employs both strategy and finesse."
"Finesse, my ass!" Ed shot back. "This thing’s busted. There’s no way you beat me."
The argument lasted all day.
"Did you even calibrate it properly?" Ed barked as they stood at the helm.
"Calibrate? It’s a sextant, not a piano!" Stede replied, gesticulating wildly.
"That’s tuning! Sextants need calibrating, Stede. And your technique was dodgy. You leaned back!"
"I did no such thing! And if you must know, leaning back would increase the angle, not decrease it!"
The next morning, Frenchie was dragged into the fray.
"Me? Why do I have to referee your piss-off?" Frenchie asked, bewildered.
"Because you’re impartial," Stede said with a smile.
"And you’re good at numbers," Ed added, patting him on the shoulder.
Reluctantly, Frenchie took the sextant and positioned himself beside the rail. "Fine. But if anyone asks what I’m doing, I’m saying it’s navigation practice."
"That’s exactly what it is," Stede said, nodding sagely.
"Yeah, we’re honing your sextant skills,” Ed added with a wink.
Frenchie sighed. "You’re both ridiculous. Alright, Stede, you’re up first."
As Stede prepared himself, Frenchie peered through the sextant, muttering under his breath. "I went to sea to escape crazy shit like this…"
"Focus, Frenchie! Accuracy is key!" Stede called, waving dramatically.
Frenchie declared a tie, and it was decided they’d continue the competition to the best of three.
Frenchie, not one to miss an opportunity, had alerted the whole crew of the game and started a betting pool. That was how the next morning found the entire crew on deck to bear witness to their captains’ antics.
The crew had all placed bets. Pete insisted Ed would win because he had "a proper pirate’s bladder." Jim disagreed, pointing out Stede’s refined posture might give him better aim.
"Did Frenchie just say ‘three, two, one, pee’?" Lucius whispered to Oluwande as the two stood in the shadow of the mast.
"Yep," Olu replied.
"And… is there a chalkboard with rankings?"
"Mm-hmm. Stede’s ahead by half a foot."
Lucius blinked. "I need more rum," turning towards the stairs.
“It’s seven in the morning,” Olu called after him.
“I SAID I NEED MORE RUM,” Lucius said more loudly as he descended.
So continued their game. Best of three became best of five. Then best of seven. Then they just decided to keep the game up on an ongoing basis because they were having fun with it.
Eventually, they added new elements. Who could pee the furthest from the mizzen top? Who could be the furthest without using their hands (this had the messiest result and was quickly abandoned).
Every morning, the great pirate pee-off continued.
Until the morning Calico Jack showed up. “Oh, I peed with Jack this morning,” Ed had said after breakfast. “It was early and I didn’t want to wake you.” Stede tried not to let his hurt show.
And then, they were boarded by the English. Then, at the academy. Then, Stede was back in Barbados, leaving no one for Ed to pee with.
“Would you like me to do the pee contest with you?” Swede had asked him that first morning he was back on the ship without Stede.
“S’not the same,” Ed said, staring longingly at the railing before pulling the fuschia robe around himself and heading in to use the cabin bathroom.
The Kraken was too badass to pee in front of people. It left him too vulnerable.
Stede, for his part, would sometimes have a go of it when he stood by the sea with his daily letter for Ed. But it just left him feeling lonely and empty. You know, emptier than peeing was meant to leave you.
When they were back together, Stede was the first to bring it up. “So, our pee game. We could pick it back up this morning,” Stede suggested that first day Ed had been wearing the probation onesie.
“I don’t think so, mate,” Ed said with a sigh. “This thing doesn’t exactly offer easy access. I’d be standing there with my clothes around my ankles peeing like a toddler.”
“Ah, fair point,” Stede said.
Then Ed asked to take things slow, so Stede decided to wait.
They woke up together that first morning in their seaside shack. Stede layed there, twirling his fingers through Ed’s chest hair.
“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” Ed asked.
Stede shrugged. “Just how content I am. How nice it is to have each other back again. The old stuff, and the new.”
Ed smiled, thinking back. “Remember our pee game?”
Stede laughed softly. “How could I forget? We did it every morning for weeks.” He sighed. “Guess I’ll miss that. No deck to pee off of.”
Ed half sat up, looking down at Stede with a glint in his eye. “We could have a go at it off the front porch.”
They stood there, side by side, looking at the dune grass that spread out in front of them.
“We don’t have a sextant,” Stede commented.
“We could…pee together,” Ed said with a shrug. “Side-by-side, see who’s stream goes farther that way.”
“Hmm,” Stede thought about it. “Why didn’t we just do that before?”
“Eh, I don’t think we were quite there yet.”
“But we are now?”
Ed smiled. “Yeah, babe.”
Stede smiled. “Together?” he asked, holding his dick in one hand and holding his other hand out to Ed.
“Together,” Ed agreed, grabbing Stede’s hand and his own dick.
And they peed happily ever after.