Chapter Text
Other Delicacies and Delights
“You could tell by the looks on their faces when they tasted it.”
“They were eating it.”
“Pushing it around so it looked touched is what it was. It was absolute shit!”
“Come on, I wouldn’t go that far…”
“Explain your fancy napkins full of it then. You think I wouldn’t notice that?”
“You cleared the table so fast I didn’t get a chance to…”
“To what? Hide them? Wash them up before I could see them? Jesus Christ, Stede.” The screened door screams on its hinges as Ed whips it open and storms out.
Stede watches from inside until the spasms in Ed’s shoulders quell, then joins him. He stands close enough to touch or be touched and stares at the way Ed’s knuckles and nailbeds are getting whiter as they tighten their death grip on the innocent porch railing beneath his hands.
Ed sounds so tired. “You said it was delicious.”
It’s one thing to know when to touch his beloved, quite another to resist the urge. Stede tries and fails, not surprised when Ed shrugs away. “Don’t you have a floor to sweep or something?”
The constant cleaning required by any marginally decent hospitality standard has lost its luster by the third week of innkeeping. It’s now week six and Stede Bartholomew Happy Homemaker Bonnet is beginning to feel suicidal every time he looks at a broom.
“It was a bohemian take on…”
“Shepherd’s pie. Yes, tell me again.” Ed finally favors Stede with a glare hot enough to solder iron.
“It was your first try! Nothing’s ever perfect the first time out.” Oh shit that was not the thing to say…
“Seem to recall you saying the opposite one night not so…”
“Ed, stop!”
“Like hell I will. You stop with your pretty little bullshit lies! Oh how perfect, Ed! What a wonderful fish, the twine really makes the tray…”
“Good Christ, are you keeping score or something?”
“I wasn’t but I sure as fuck am now.”
It’s a dangerous move, but Stede risks pulling Ed around to get toe-to-toe. “Our first time was perfect. Every single second, and you know I mean that. Unless you don’t.”
The acquiescence is soft. “I do.”
“I like saying nice things to you when things aren’t perfect. Especially then. I want you to feel good.”
“Don’t.” He takes a step back but doesn’t turn away. “You think you’re making me feel better about my failures, but you’re not. Do you think I don’t realize what you’re doing? Listen, I know you mean well but it’s the wrong way to go about it. If my food is disgusting, say so. Don’t leave it to the guests to puke it out in the back garden.”
“Darling, there are times that call for the kindness of a lie.”
“Give me one example. Go.”