Chapter Text
A single black limo winds its way towards Heathrow airport.
The occupants are not here to catch a flight, or to meet somebody arriving on one. No. They are here, rather unfortunately, to retrieve a certain pair of someones from what is affectionately referred to as the drunk tank.
Stede has already called ahead, and they're waved in through one of the security entrances so they don't have to walk all the way through the main concourse. The limo pulls up; the MI5-approved driver waiting for them as Stede and Ed are met by a member of the British Transport Police, and escorted inside.
"I hope they haven't been too much trouble," Stede says to her, as she leads them along. Technically he's still quite drunk himself, though he feels stone cold sober now.
"Not really," the officer replies. She's a good foot shorter than either of them, but she looks like she could definitely take them in a fight. "A few sharp words and bits of posturing when we took 'em in, but since then they've been fine, if highly emotional."
"I cannot apologise enough for that," Ed tells her, nervously grooming his beard with one hand. "We had… a lot of big news, and a lot of high emotion. And a lot of cake. Shit… Stede, we should get Roach to bake 'em a cake to say sorry, shouldn't we? When he's sober. You guys like cake, don't you? Fuck. I'm not bribing you, I swear. I'm just really fucking drunk and tired and apparently now we're the disappointed parents for two guys the same fucking age as us…"
"…Yes, we like cake," the officer says, obviously trying to suppress a hint of a grin. "And trust me, compared to some of the people we have to haul in, those two really weren't a big deal. It was only the fact they immediately started citing friends in the police that got our attention. And… all the rhinestones."
"We still are terribly sorry," Stede concurs. "We'll take them off your hands at once, and make sure they don't do anything like it again."
The officer nods. "That would be appreciated. And maybe get them some couples' therapy. I think they need it."
At this point, they reach a heavy-set door to one of the holding cells, which the woman opens with a clunk, gesturing for them to go in. Inside, the cell itself is entirely bare and empty, with a couple of ledges for sitting or lying on, but no furniture that might be usable as a weapon.
And the instant they step in, Jack launches himself at Ed, wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders. "Thank fuck. We're goin' insane in here."
'We' seems to be something of a loosely-applied term, however. Maynard is here too, but he's lying on the ledge against the far wall; curled up tight and facing away from them, and he doesn't move even a little. The visible tightness in his back and shoulders suggests he's very much conscious, though.
"You went insane a long time ago, you dumb fuck." Ed hugs him fiercely hard, then grabs his face in both hands and holds him at arm's length. "You scared the fuck out of us. Seriously. Don't do that to me. I just about got everything back together… you two need to realise – just – fuck, come here…"
Ed pulls him in again, shaking a bit as he hugs him. "It's gonna be okay, alright? We'll take you back to our place to sleep it off. And you don't go biting any nice transport police on the way out."
"I didn't bite nobody!" Jack protests. He looks, in the nicest possible way, like shit, and possibly like he may have been crying at some point as well, and would very much like it if no one commented on that in any way, shape or form. "And Robbie only said he could take 'em in a fight, he didn't actually do it, and…"
His eyes go to the still-unmoving rhinestoned ball in the corner of the room. "…Ed, I think I fucked up…"
Stede, meanwhile, paces over to said rhinestoned ball, dropping down on one knee and putting a hand on Maynard's shoulder. "Robert? Robert, are you alive?"
"…no." The response is quiet, and sullen, and heavy from a lot more crying. "Dead. Leave me."
"Robert, it's Stede and Ed. We've come to get you and Jack out of here. It's going to be OK."
"S'fine. I'll escape in the morning. When head stops… thing."
"You will not escape in the morning."
"Will. Done it before. Not here, but… will. Escaped from worse."
Ed tugs Jack as subtly as he can, to the other side of the room. He pulls Jack in as if hugging him again, so he can speak lowly in his ear. "Tell me what really happened. Not the bit you already did. Tell me why you got arrested in the first place. If I'm gonna help, I need to know why Maynard's acting like old Izzy."
Jack immediately closes off. "…don't wanna…" he murmurs. "Not… not a good idea."
Stede runs a hand over Maynard's shoulder. "Robert, talk to us. Please. I hope you know by now that we just want to help. Whatever's happened–"
"We wouldn't have got arrested in the first place if Jack didn't tip them off!" Maynard explodes, suddenly; turning and staring at them with anguished, red-rimmed eyes. "We were enthusiastic, sure, but plenty of people fly merry, right? No one argues s'long as they don't cause trouble. But he told them I was taking him to America to get married and he wasn't sure he wanted to, and that got 'em all suspicious and things escalated."
"I didn't say I didn't want to!" Jack exclaims. "I do want to! Of course I fucking want to! I just… I just maybe need a bit of time to get used to the idea, that's all!"
Oh… fuck.
"And you couldn't have told him that?" Ed asks, stepping back from Jack in annoyance. "You told the police? The fuck, Jack? You made them think he was fucking human trafficking you!"
He really, really, really wants to throttle him. He does. He wants to smack him around the head with anything available and make him apologise. "Right. Maynard? Get up. Your man is an asshole, and we're going to fucking fix this, okay? But we're going to do it where it's safe, and where we can look after the pair of you fucking morons. I should never have let you get out of my sight… fuck. Izzy was right…"
Maynard seems to respond to Ed's sharper tone more than Stede's softer one (maybe don't overthink that now) but he's still not quick to stagger to his feet. That might be due to drunken exhaustion, though. He looks at Jack again, clearly trying to say something, then gives a choke of pain and grabs hold of Stede; breaking down against his neck.
"Hey, hey, it's OK," Stede insists, rubbing his back. "It's going to be OK. You just need sobering up, filling with coffee, and time to talk this through."
Jack looks horribly conflicted. "I'm sorry, I am! I know I fucked up! I ain't… fuck, just get us out of here. Please?"
"We'll get through it. But we're doing it where we can keep you both safe, and make sure you don't fuck this up. Jack… you still love him, right? Tell him that. Tell him, and then we'll get you somewhere soft, warm, and sober. Nothing is broken we can't fix. It's going to be okay, but you're gonna need to sleep on it." Ed shakes his head.
"And Maynard? You probably need to think about how pissed the rest of us would be if you'd run off and not invited us, anyway. So you've been saved that argument. Now… you gonna let us get you in the car?"
Maynard pulls back from Stede but doesn't look up, giving a nod. "…Yeah," he manages. "Just… want to not be here."
"And I do love you, Robbie," Jack gasps, suddenly. "I do. And I wanna get married, just… just maybe not so fast? It's… I'm…"
With a sob, Maynard throws himself back into Stede's arms.
"…just take us home…" Jack murmurs.
Ed nods. He goes to bang on the closed door, knowing there will be someone right there. "We're gonna take these two from here," he calls out. "And you should let us know what kind of cake you like." Which is totally not a bribe. But it is good cake.
***
The drive back is very quiet. Both men are supplied with water, in an attempt to stave off dehydration and speed up sobering. Sensing the need to keep them apart, Ed sits with Jack and lets Stede babysit Maynard. After a few distinctly 'no' looks from Ed, Jack doesn't try to speak much.
They need to be somewhere controlled before that.
It isn't Tim on duty, but someone who drew the short straw and got paid very handsomely for it, and they're understandably discreet when the four of them get in the lift to the middle floor of the polycule's apartment.
"There's two rooms, if you need the space. And there's the couch. The lads are downstairs and know you're here, so you don't need to worry about anyone walking in on you, or you on them," Ed says, as they get them through the door. "There's guest PJs, toothbrushes… you know the drill. Mini fridge and kitchen area there… you know your way to the loos and shit?"
"…not actually been on this floor before, but we'll work it out," Maynard says, dropping onto one of the couches and immediately curling into a ball again. "Sorry we caused you so much trouble. Never wanted that. 'Specially after… after everything."
"It's all right," Stede insists, sitting next to him and rubbing his back, trying to soothe him. "The important thing is neither of you are hurt." Physically, at least.
Jack sits on the couch opposite, giving Ed 'please don't fucking leave us' eyes, and looking like he doesn't know what the fuck to do. Except maybe go searching for the liquor cabinet.
"Do you feel ready to talk about it now, or do you need some time? Together, or with us keeping you each company?" Ed sits on the couch next to Jack, but closer to Maynard. "We're not gonna take sides. Not… based on who you are, anyway. If either of you says anything dumb, we'll call you on it. And… that sounded better in my head. Like… all either of us wants is for you two to work through this, and get back to the happy couple we saw before. Whatever that is, for you two."
"…we were happy!" Maynard exclaims, tears in his eyes again. "Tonight was everything, and you were all so damn nice when you didn't even have to be, and it was all perfect and then… then!" He waves an arm at Jack. "Then he gets cold feet and tells the fucking Transport Police instead of me!"
"I di'n't wanna upset you!" Jack replies. "I just… I'm not… fuck's sake, Robbie, we've only been exclusive for a few weeks! I need time to adjust!"
"Missing the nice boy from the typing pool, are we?" Maynard throws across. "Or was it the chick from Sales?"
"I ain't gonna apologise for having fun back when it was still allowed!"
"So I'm not fun?"
"That ain't what I mean, Robbie, for fuck's sake! You know what I mean!"
"Quiet, both of you," Ed barks, and it's the Voice, not Blackbeard. "You're both upset. And Jack did do something fucking stupid, but – no offence, Jack – you knew who the fuck he was when you hooked up with him, Robert."
Using his first name is very, very deliberate.
"Jack – for all he went about it dumb – is actually right here. And the fact that you're immediately worried he's about to leave you, or cheat on you, because he doesn't want to get married the same fucking day?" Ed fixes him with a look. "He hurt you. But if you act like this when he needs to talk or work things through, can you see why maybe he'd be scared to start talking to you? Especially when you're both drunk?"
Maynard looks like he's going to say something somewhat effusive, but then thinks better of it and sags, curling in on himself and nodding without meeting Ed's eyes. "…jus' thought we'd be happy…" he murmurs. "Like all of you. It's… I…"
He throws himself down against the couch and starts sobbing again, and doesn't respond when Stede tries to gently encourage him back upright.
"I wanna make this work, Robbie," Jack insists, clearly going for broke. "I do. I wouldn't've said yes if I didn't mean it. I just… need time to process, OK? But we're still engaged. I still want to do it. I promise."
"He's not gonna leave you. It's not a 'now or never'," Ed reassures the other man. "And – trust me – it will mean so much more if you work on it together. Anyone can get drunk and sign a piece of paper in Vegas. Don't you want to do all the cute shit? All the romantic bullshit? Even me and Stede didn't get married right off. And the time we did… we still had time to plan it. And that was a fucking emergency."
"And we were sober," Stede adds. "I was still lingeringly drug-hungover from when Chauncey Badminton tried to poison me, but… trust me, even if you're rushing because you're on the run and trying to wrong-foot MI5 itself, you still want space to enjoy it."
"Yeah, we could totally have a party and everything!" Jack enthuses, a little more brightly. "And… I don't know, outfits and cake and shit!"
"You absolutely could," Stede agrees. "And should. It's your special day, you should do it properly. And… do you want a wedding planner? I happen to be quite good at it…"
Maynard sits up sharply at that and smacks Stede – very lightly – on the arm. "Don't you keep being nice to us, Stede Bonnet, you're an absolute menace!" he exclaims, though there's no weight in his tone and it's clearly meant to sound affectionate.
"But a very polite menace," Stede counters. "So you can't get mad."
"He's also an excellent wedding planner. I mean, you saw the party we just had, right? Imagine one for you two. With no kids there." Ed rubs Jack's arm, reassuringly. "See, you both want this. You're both panicking because it's fucking massive. But you're panicking because it's fucking massive and it means that much to you. If getting hitched to you wasn't a serious commitment to Jack, he'd've just fucking gone along with it. Trust me. If it didn't mean anything really… back me up here, bro?"
"…s'true…" Jack murmurs, looking at his feet. "Didn't think I'd ever even settle with someone, much less marry 'em. But you… I don't wanna think about life without you. S'why I said I would give up the hookups, even though they were fun. You're more fun. And hotter."
Maynard breaks down again, but this time it's Jack's arms he throws himself into. "Just don't leave me, don't go, I don't know what I'd fucking do without you. Please. I'm sorry. I should never have suggested running away to Vegas. I just… I'm so fucking sorry!"
Jack wraps him in furiously tight. "At least you didn't run off to take up cage fighting this time."
"…cage fighting. Is this before, or after the black market helicopter sales?" Ed pats Maynard on the back, then moves to go sit with Stede and let them have the couch together. "You're both gonna be okay, and when you do get married, you're gonna fucking laugh about this. Like we laugh about the – admittedly amazing – glitter cupcakes we had to use for our shotgun wedding…"
"…before," Maynard murmurs, still buried in Jack's chest. "He came after me. He chased me when he had every reason not to. Twice. He's clearly insane."
"Yeah, well, you stayed with me when I was pissed off my tits and screaming about Chauncey-fucking-Badminton," Jack reminds him. "So… there."
They hug even tighter. It is… something of a relief.
"Those cupcakes were great," Stede enthuses, softly; curling in against Ed as the other man settles beside him. "We should get some again, for our anniversary in the summer. And linger over them this time."
"Oh, fuck yeah. We totally should. Even if yours are way better, those ones have sentimental value." Ed nuzzles Stede, chin over his head. "And for the record, I totally still loved our wedding. And our second wedding. And the boys'. And our polycule wedding…"
"See?" Stede says, with a little grin. "Good at wedding planning. And other events. And–"
Jack and Maynard are now making out. Rather emphatically.
"…take it to the guest room, you two. If Izzy catches you in here, he'll chase you with a spray-bottle."
"There's lube in there, too," Ed says, helpfully. "It's all sound-proofed. So if you need help, fucking ring me, don't shout."
"Gotcha," Jack declares, as he picks Maynard up and starts carrying him off.
"…I really am sorry about all this..!" Maynard calls, over Jack's shoulder.
"Brunch is at eleven-ish!" Stede replies, brightly. "Don't break the bed!"
"No promises!" Jack answers, seconds before the pair of them are through the door to the right-hand guestroom, kicking it shut behind them.
Stede collapses against Ed rather more. "…fucking hell, what a night…" he manages.
"You had to say eleven-ish… I'm too fucking wiped to do much now. How is everyone else getting laid but us?" Almost too fucking wiped. Now that he's thinking about it, Ed's body waves a tired hand. "I mean… we could probably slip in something fast and nasty… Unless you want me to just wake you up with my morning wood…"
"I'm game for fast and nasty," Stede agrees, with a grin. "You think we should check on the others first, or leave them to it? They might have passed out by now."
"Unless you want to do fast and nasty in front of them?" Ed quirks a brow. "If they're too shagged-out to join in, then they get a show. If they're passed out, we go back to ours…?"
Stede nods. "You're on."