Chapter Text
Tuesday nights are always quiet, but tonight is the first Tuesday of the month, which means it’s Book Club night. Ed watches from behind the bar as the fascinating bunch of weirdos start to arrive; some head straight to their usual table to dump their bags and shit, others come to the bar first.
Ed gets to work pouring their drinks, has their regular orders memorised now, paired each up with the recipient's name - it’s easier to remember that way. He mixes a Cosmo for Lucius who smacks his lips dramatically around the paper straw, savouring Ed’s heavy pour. His boyfriend Pete has a lager, and thanks Ed a little too effusively. Ed pours Frenchie a pint too, though bitter in his case, receives a “cheers m’dear” in return, then gets a pot ready for Olu’s tea.
They’re all starting to get settled when Stede arrives, comes bounding in with a “hi all”, little jazz hands and everything. The last of the day’s sunshine is radiating off him like it just can’t bear to let him go. Ed gets it. Can barely take his eyes off him as he circulates, greeting the rest of his bookish oddballs. Ed’s subtle about it, obviously. Doesn’t just stand there gawping, he’s busy pouring drinks and stuff.
“Ed!” Stede cries happily, turning towards him with that megawatt smile of his, dimple popping. Greeting Ed like he’s just another one of the crew.
“Hey man,” Ed says, cool as you like. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know,” Stede waves him off. “Same old. What about you? How are you?”
“Good, thanks mate,” Ed grins back. Better now, he just about resists adding. “You want your usual?”
Because yeah, Ed’s had Stede’s drink memorised since that first day he’d come in here, all nervous and a little bit bumbling (in the cutest way), asking if there was space for him to bring his little queer book club in once a month. Izzy had said no, Ed had said yes. It was a bit of A Thing, but ultimately it’s Ed’s bar and if he wants to brighten up the occasional Tuesday night with this man made of sunshine - so sue him.
“Yes please,” Stede exhales. “That’d be lovely.”
“So,” Ed starts as he retrieves a glass and the bottle of their best brandy. “What’s tonight’s book?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. As if he doesn’t listen in on all their chats. Didn’t immediately order this month’s book when it was announced last time. Didn’t devour the whole thing as soon as it arrived.
“Hmm,” Stede hums, that adorable little nose scrunch he doesn’t seem able to contain revealing exactly what he thinks about the smutty romance. “It was Lucius’ pick this time, which means a rather needlessly explicit love story.”
“Sounds good,” Ed smirks. “You not into that kind of thing?”
“Oh… well,” Stede stammers, a delicious blush staining his cheeks. “It’s not… I just… it’s hardly the sort of proper literature I had in mind when I started this club, that’s all.” He’s all flustered and a little bit defensive and somehow more beautiful than ever.
“Proper literature is all well and good, mate, but sometimes you just wanna read filth, right?” Ed says as he slides Stede’s drink across the bar. Gives him a wink too, just to watch him blush a little more. Is kind of gratified when Stede seems to lose the thread of the conversation completely, taking a hearty swig of his brandy instead before muttering his thanks and sort of drifting away into the group.
And Ed knows Stede’s probably not interested in him. Not really. Not in any kind of meaningful way. Not fancy, well-read Stede Bonnet with his ‘proper literature’. But Ed also knows what he looks like - the hair, the tats, the leather. Has caught Stede looking at him more than once, usually followed by a swift change in direction and that blush Ed wants to taste. So yeah, there’s probably no future there, but he can at least enjoy a bit of harmless flirting with a gorgeous blonde whilst it lasts.
Ed watches him walk away. Admires the way the knitted, biscuity colour polo shirt he’s wearing is pulled tight across his broad back, those shoulders… his freckled biceps. Takes a moment to be thankful for his fastidious cleaning regime in the bar as Stede sits - his beautiful flat behind, clad in his crisp white trousers coming to rest on the bench seat at their table.
“Mmm, saw that,” Lucius snarks, popping up out of nowhere.
“Dickfuck,” Ed mutters. “No you didn’t. Nothing to see. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uhuh,” he says, looking entirely like he knows better. And maybe he does. Know Ed better, that is. He’s become a bit of a regular since the book club started up, makes an appearance most weekends with a seemingly endless slew of boyfriends in tow. Has taken it upon himself to establish something of a dancefloor, much to Izzy’s disgust, and teases Ed mercilessly about the quantity of power ballads in the jukebox. “You know you could just tell him you like him?”
“Pfft,” Ed tries to brush Lucius off as he sets about making his drink.
“You do realise he likes you too, right?”
Ed doesn’t respond because, yeah, that blush doesn’t lie, but that doesn’t mean Stede wants anything more from him. What would he want with some deadbeat bar owner? Not to mention that it’d all get pretty fuckin’ weird, pretty fuckin’ quickly if they hooked up and then had to see each other at these little meet ups once a month. Or worse, Stede found somewhere else to take his little crew, just to get away from Ed, and then Ed didn’t get to see those sparkling hazel eyes or that bloody dimple anymore.
Nope. This is fine. This is enough. Probably.
“No,” Lucius carries on. “You’re right. That bizarre little man, who lives in pyjamas and robes, like ninety percent of the time, is definitely not all dressed up and looking his best to try to impress you.”
“What?” Ed mumbles, his brain tripping over ‘robes’ as he passes Lucius his drink.
“Yup,” Lucius says, popping the p before taking a delicate little sip from his glass. “So, because y’know, you’re both, like, ancient, you should probably stop stalling and make the most of whatever time you have left. Right? Together.”
The little shit stalks away before Ed can formulate a response to that, so he grumbles a little ‘fuck off’ to himself once the pathways between his brain and his mouth start working again.
*
Stede watches his little motley crew get organised and settled in, sinking into their usual seats. Conversations pick up across and around the table, some continued up from the group chat earlier that day. Much like there, he doesn’t engage much, happy to watch and listen and enjoy the company of his friends. His chest feels full and warm with acceptance, still quietly amazed that these wonderful humans have allowed him to be included.
It’s still relatively new, but so far from his lonely days during the pandemic. He’d been so desperate for any kind of human interaction at all back then that he started posting about the books he was reading on Instagram. He’d quickly accumulated more followers than he knew what to do with, and that had led him to Lucius. And Lucius had led him to this.
Now they were here, real life friends, sitting beside him in this beautiful bar. Ed’s bar. With its warm woods, and its soft lighting and its brass fixtures. All the lovely textures and colours and patterns. And Ed himself, of course.
Stede allows himself one last glance at the man in question before he calls the meeting to order properly. Ed’s giving the bar a wipe down, having poured the last of the drinks for the crew, and Stede watches, half mesmerised as the muscles in his arms move with the motion, tawny tattooed skin writhing - no. No, that’s not the right word. Pulls all kinds of other imagined images of Ed’s flesh to the forefront of his mind and he definitely can’t be thinking about those. Not here, not now - probably not ever to be honest.
“Right,” he calls out over the group, if only to stop his own mental spiralling. “Shall we get stuck into this thing then?” He waves the trashy paperback in the air, trying and failing to mask his distaste.
“Don’t you pull that face, Stede!” Lucius calls down the table rather cattily. “You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it!”
“Well,” he replies snootily. “It was hardly very mentally taxing, was it?”
“Yeah, but reading doesn’t always need to be that, does it?” Olu cuts in. “Sometimes you just wanna escape for a bit.”
“Yes! Thank you!” Lucius hisses, clicking his fingers and pointing at Olu. “We’ll get to whatever tragic angst-fest you’ve picked for us, Stede.”
Stede opens his mouth to defend his choice but Lucius ploughs over him.
“And, yes, I’m sure it’ll be ‘culturally significant’ or ‘a fundamental part of queer history’ or whatever, but sometimes we just want to read about idiots falling in love and having fantastic sex.” To Stede’s dismay a murmur echoes around the group that sounds awfully like support for Lucius. “I’ve just made sure that before we’re all emotionally devastated by whatever you’ve picked, we’ve all had a fun little romp.”
Stede can’t really help the little harumph sound he makes as he shuffles in his chair and tries not to sulk too visibly. He makes a mental note to rethink his book choice as well, before it comes around to him. Perhaps something a little more lighthearted.
The rest of the crew dive into what they liked or didn’t like about the characters in the book, and Stede resolves to keep his opinions to himself for the rest of the evening - if he can. Doesn’t need to bring everyone else down when they so clearly enjoyed this one. Instead he lets his gaze wander, admiring the decor once again and the general vibes of the bar, familiar 80s rock playing softly in the background. He wonders, not for the first time, whether Ed chose it all himself, or if it was like this already when he took over. He’s certainly cool enough, Stede thinks. Stylish enough, with his long starlight waves, and the matching, carefully maintained scruff across his jaw. And then there’s the leather of course.
He doesn’t realise he’s staring until Ed turns and their gazes meet across the space. Ed’s eyes widen slightly at first before softening, beautiful crow’s feet crinkling at their corners with the almost shy little smile he offers Stede. Stede swallows, tries to dislodge his heart that seems to have jumped into his throat at being caught looking, then tries to return Ed’s grin. He thinks it may be more of a grimace and drops his gaze to the safety of his lap instead.
*
Stede manages to keep his mouth shut for much of the rest of their conversation. Only offering up his own views if asked expressly, so that he might escape this without further embarrassment. But then Lucius asks, palms slapping flat against the table to ensure he has everyone’s attention, “Okay, but can we talk about the smut now please?”
Stede sighs a little internally.
There’s that murmur of agreement again, though it’s much more enthusiastic this time.
“So hot,” John says.
Frenchie hums and nods his head.
“Yeah, really beautifully done,” Olu adds.
Even Jim lets out a sort of whoop sound.
“Oh, come on!” Stede cries, doesn’t mean to. It very much just sort of bursts out of him. The rest of the group fall silent and, as one, turn to look at him. Nobody speaks but Lucius raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Don’t you think it was all rather… fantastical?”
“Yeah, you’re going to have to give us more than that,” Lucius says.
“Well, I just mean, of course romance novels exaggerate things all the time but, come on… we all know these sorts of relationships don’t actually exist. Right?”
Nobody jumps in to support him. Not even a murmur of agreement.
“Oh babe,” Frenchie murmurs sympathetically. Olu is pressing his lips together, eyes all wide and… god, pitying.
Stede resolutely does not look at Ed.
Lucius, he notices, looks at Ed.
“Oh Stedey,” he croons, turning his attention back to Stede, “I know you’re still kind of new to this…”
It takes an awful lot of restraint for Stede not to butt in here. New to this. He’s been out for years now! He’s been on dates! Kissed other men! Even had his share of sexual encounters, though often brief and somewhat unsatisfying - ‘is it alright if I…’, ‘oh, yes, please’, ‘right, i’ll just…’. He thinks back to his last, particularly sad, hook up with a blandly attractive man who, when Stede had asked for his mouth, had responded with ‘oh, I’d rather not if it’s all the same - I’ve got to give a presentation at work tomorrow’. Though they haven’t all been quite like that, he’s certainly never felt the sort of insatiable need the two characters in the story felt.
“This kind of passion,” Lucius jabs his finger down on the cover of the book for emphasis, breaking Stede from his thoughts. “This definitely exists.”
“Oh,” is all Stede can think to say to that. He’s still not convinced honestly, but surely all his friends can’t be wrong - especially Lucius who seems set on single-handedly compensating for Stede missing out on his fair share of sexual encounters for all the long years he was married.
He wishes his friends’ conviction gave him more hope, he really does. But Stede has never experienced anything even close to the life-altering, all-consuming desire described in the book, despite how hopeful he’d been that once he’d come out it would be like flicking a switch. That dating, relationships and sex would suddenly be like all the magical love stories he’d read about. But it hasn’t happened, and maybe the real issue is that he’s afraid it never will.
*
Ed kind of wants to leap over the bar and show Stede exactly what he’s been missing right here and now because, fuck… look at this beautiful man, all sad and deflated now, like a kicked puppy. How the fuck has he not experienced that? What kind of dickheads has he been dating that he’s never felt that stuff?
And yeah, Ed knows his story, or most of it anyway. Has pieced it together from what Stede’s actually told him, and then he might have spent the best part of one of his days off on a deep dive, seeking out Stede’s Instagram and scrolling all the way back to the start - had read everything he’s ever put out there, seen every photo, every reel. So he knows Stede’s not been out that long in the grand scheme of things. But for fuck’s sake, the man’s gorgeous. Like legitimately hot, and funny, and silly, and compassionate. What is wrong with people?!
Stede’s normally the last to leave, usually hangs back and chats with Ed, but he’s clearly in a hurry tonight. Shoves his stuff into his bag and is scurrying towards the door before the others have even really finished their goodbyes. And Ed needs to seize his moment, or something.
“Stede?” he calls out as Stede hurries past the bar and he does pause, even if he doesn’t quite turn and make eye contact.
“Oh, sorry Ed,” he mumbles. “Got to dash tonight.”
“Right, yeah. No worries, man,” Ed offers but Stede’s already gone.
“Well, that was horribly tragic,” Lucius drawls, popping up at the bar beside Ed.
“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes still on the door as if he can see Stede through it. “Do you really think he…” Ed trails off, not really sure how to finish that sentence.
“Hmm, I’m not exactly privy to all the sordid details of his sexual history, but he’s not really had any relationships that I know of. A couple of second, maybe third dates but not much more than that.”
“Jesus,” Ed exhales. “Why?” Because who the fuck in their right mind is passing up a chance with Stede? Okay, yeah, so Ed has only met him a handful of times, but he seems pretty perfect to be honest.
“You’ve met Stede, right?” Lucius asks, tone dry and sarcastic. “I mean, yeah okay so he’s got this whole DILF vibe going on, but he’s also kind of a weirdo. Like, in a good way. I just mean it can be a lot, for some people. I guess. And then, you know he was married, right? For like, most of his life. To a woman. Some kind of arranged bullshit his parents pushed him into, so that’s probably a factor too - you don’t go through something like that without some kind of trauma-shaped baggage.”
“Fuck…” Ed mutters. Ed knows a thing of two about trauma himself. And baggage. Just another reason why Stede would never be interested in him. Two wrongs don’t make a right… or something.
And yeah, he had known about the marriage, but not really about the whole ‘arranged-ness’ of it, and he’s not sure how to feel about that really. Didn’t think people still did that shit. Mostly he’s just pissed off on Stede’s behalf. Would quite like to have a few choice words with Stede’s parents - maybe introduce them to early 90s Ed, when he was still angry at the world and getting into all kinds of trouble.
Lucius hums in agreement. “Poor Stedey B. If only there was, like, someone who was really into him that could, oh I don’t know, show him the power of love.”
“Dickfuck, don’t Céline me.”
“Maybe I’m talking about Frankie.”
“That’s not better.”
“Huey Lewis?”
“Fuck off,” Ed huffs.
“Just think about it, yeah?” Lucius suggests more gently. “You like him, he likes you. I think you’d be good together.”
Pete comes over then, effectively putting an end to Lucius’ meddling. He leans on the bar, apparently to talk to his boyfriend but he’s also shooting glances Ed’s way and… is he flexing?
“You ready to go babe?” he asks Lucius, whilst looking at Ed. Fucking hell. Ed picks up his cloth and moves away a step to start his wipe down.
Lucius slings his satchel over his shoulder, threads an arm through one of Pete’s and leads him towards the door. He pauses on the threshold to call back to Ed.
“Ed… I mean it. I think you could really take his breath away.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Ed half shouts, half laughs back at him. He hurls his damp rag which connects with the glass pane in the door with a wet slap before dropping to the floor and leaving a smeary mark. Lucius waggles his fingers through the glass in a mocking wave before disappearing off with Pete.