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The chill night air tingled against his cheeks. Stede wished, not for the first time, that he’d worn a tuque like Ed’s. Instead of a fedora that had seemed jaunty this morning, bright and early under the rising sun, and was now in danger of flying off every few minutes unless Stede clapped his hand to the brim.
He should have thought ahead, but they’d still been up in Cortina this morning and now they were down in Milan and, naively, he’d assumed it would be warmer in the city.
But he didn’t say anything, also not for the first time. Just trudged on beside Ed, one hand on his hat, and the other—
He clapped a hand over his butt. Then the other side, letting go of his hat. The wind whipped the hat aside.
Ed caught it neatly and made to hand it over.
Stede noticed Ed’s baffled expression out of the corner of his eye, and stopped digging around in both back pockets. “I’ve lost my wallet!”
“Maybe you left it at the restaurant?”
He rechecked his front pockets, too, just to be sure. “But you paid. I didn’t take my wallet out—”
“Yes you did, you had it on the bench between us.”
Right, because it was too lumpy to sit on. “Maybe someone stole it on the train.” He felt around in the nooks and crannies of his thick winter coat, where he’d stuffed some of the souvenirs they’d bought before the hockey game (Finland/Switzerland, with a bunch of their friends out on the ice).
“You mean, slipped their fingers into your pocket? In those jeans?” Ed, laughing, took Stede’s hand in his and stopped its wandering. “Come on, why don’t we retrace our steps?”
He blew out a sigh. Ed’s hand was warm in his, and Ed’s expression didn’t hold any of the impatience or exasperation most other people wore when they looked at Stede. Despite his panic, Stede felt an urge to linger here, on this random Milan street, and kiss Ed dizzy. “Okay, let’s do it.”
“D’you want your hat back?” Ed asked as they walked back up the long street they’d just come down.
“No, it’s stupid.” The city was full of sound and light; they were no more than two specks in the bustle all about them. They should’ve been back at their hotel by now. “I shouldn’t have worn it. It was a stupid idea.”
“I like it on you,” Ed said simply. “Hey, look,” he added, as they came out onto the open square. “There aren’t as many people around the flame now.”
He was right. Barely half an hour ago, the place had still been packed, and they’d waited a while before they could take even one selfie without other faces in the frame. Now they could approach the structure more easily, and even walk around it without bumping into anyone else. The red-gold disc of the Olympic torch burned above them, brighter even than the lit up restaurants and signs all around.
Stede realised he’d been staring up at it, mesmerised by the spiral of colour, when Ed called out for him.
He scurried over to where Ed was bent low, peering at a gap between blocks of stone. A stuck photograph flapped in the breeze.
Stede pulled it out. “But how?” He looked from the photo to the stone and back.
The photo was from last summer, the day Stede had brought home the Stanley Cup. He and Ed had stood behind it, arms about each other, and Lucius had taken the photo. Stede had put together an album of that day to print for Ed’s mum, and had also printed copies of this photo, one to frame, and one for his wallet.
Someone had found—or stolen—his wallet, taken out this photo, and wedged it into the masonry under the Olympic torch.
“Who knows?” Ed said lightly. “Let’s get back to the arena, maybe there’ll be a clue there.”
“Sure, they’ll have my bookstore points card taped onto the boards.”
“Aww, babe. We’ll find it, don’t worry.” Ed looped his arm through his and they set off.
“I should call and cancel all my cards,” Stede said gloomily, as they approached the arena. He fought Ed’s surety even though he wanted to trust Ed’s hope. “I don’t even know where to start finding half the numbers.” At the doors, he realised the flaw in their plan. “Ed, we don’t have tickets to this game; how are we going to get in?”
“Maybe we don’t have to,” Ed said smoothly, leading him inside.
On anyone else, such cool confidence would make Stede envious; in Ed, it only made him want to stop again, back Ed up to a wall, and kiss him. Since he couldn’t do that with all the tourists and spectators and volunteers all around, he reached in under Ed’s coat and twined his arm about Ed’s waist. Ed had packed only Blackbeard and Revenge woolly sweaters for himself; he loved the long sleeves that came down over his hands. Tonight he’d worn a purple Revenge one, unicorn blazing in the centre, and for a moment, Stede got lost in the touch of Ed, soft wool and firm muscles beneath.
When he pulled himself out of the haze of his thoughts, it was to find Ed speaking to an arena attendant.
“Si, I’ll take a look!” The attendant showed them to a bench, and disappeared through the doors leading to rinkside.
“What did you do?” Stede asked as they sat down to wait.
“Do? Nothing. Just asked if they could take a look around the seats we were in.”
“Thanks, Ed.” He set his head on Ed’s shoulder. “Maybe there’s a lost and found, we could ask there.”
“Huh? Oh yeah, maybe. Reckon we’d have more luck with that tomorrow, though. We should head back to the restaurant after this. If nothing turns up, I mean.”
“All right.” They’d eaten well, a few hours ago, but they’d had to skip dessert to make it to the arena in time for the game. Maybe he could drown his sorrows in watching Ed enjoy a gelato. He was about to suggest they look up the dessert menu when the attendant came back.
“I found this!” A keychain dangled from their fingers— Stede’s bespoke keychain. He hadn’t brought his keys to Milan, but he’d hooked the keychain onto his wallet. John had designed it, and Stede had found an artisan to make one each for him and Ed. Two tiny hockey helmets and cages, stuck together. To capture the moment when that had happened to them, out on the ice, and to represent the way Stede and Ed had decided to stay stuck together, forever.
“Oh, thank you!” he cried, leaping up. More than the photo, and the annoyance of losing all his cards, he would have been upset about his keychain the most. Of course he could have another one made; but the superstitious hockey player part of him had been trying not to dwell on what it might mean, to have a symbol of his and Ed’s love lost forever.
To have it returned made it easier to believe in Ed’s hope.
He fiddled with keychain and coat, hooking it onto his zipper. When he looked up, the attendant had gone, and Ed was shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Oh, Ed, are you cold? We don’t have to go back to the restaurant, I can figure out how to call—”
“No! I mean—” Ed twined their arms together again. “We’ve come this far, we should just go look.”
“All right,” he said, with his newfound optimism. “It’s like a treasure hunt, isn’t it?”
“Sure, babe.” Ed drew him into a shadowy corner along the outside wall of the arena and kissed him. “Love you.”
“Love you back.” He dug out his gloves from inside his coat and passed them to Ed. Ed kissed him again.
At the restaurant, seemingly by chance, it was the owner himself who greeted them inside the door. Stede asked if he could have a look around, and the owner was more than happy to lead them over to the table, bustling about them, plumping up the cushions on the bench. “Your table is free! Sit, sit, we will help you look. Surely you have time for an espresso?” Two servers appeared, one bearing a tray. “A limoncello!”
Stede and Ed shared a glance, then nodded, and glasses and plates instantly began to pile up on the table. Stede and Ed shrugged out of their coats, hung them on nearby hooks. Stede slid into the same spot he’d sat in before—and there, under the cushion, was his wallet.
Ed was deep in dessert talk with the owner. “What do you think, babe? Gelato or millefoglie or Principessa cake? And maybe a barbajada, too?”
Stede’s eyes glazed over at the sound of Italian dessert names falling from Ed’s lips. He forgot his wallet, he forgot his worry over his wallet, and he nearly forgot they were out on public. His hand was on Ed’s knee and his mouth was inching towards Ed’s neck when someone tinkled a spoon against a glass, and he snapped out of his horny haze. Somewhat.
“All—all of them.” He swept up his wallet and waved it. “Get all you want, darling.”
“You found it!”
“Yep. Still don’t know how I left it behind, I could’ve sworn I’d picked it up.” He leaned over and pulled out his photo from his coat pocket and his keychain off the zipper, while Ed ordered cake and the hot chocolate-coffee blends for both of them.
He worked the keychain back into its usual spot, then opened up his wallet to slip the photo back in.
And stopped. Fingers stilled. No sound from the bustling restaurant around them, just a faint white noise in his ears.
He stared down at the clear plastic on one side, the cover that had been all smudged, and was now cleaner and shinier than it had been even when new.
And beneath the plastic—a ring.
A rustling beside him got him to turn his head. Ed hadn’t gotten down on one knee, but he’d turned into Stede, knees together, hands clasped on his lap, looking for all the world like he might have looked back in the day when he’d been called into his agent’s office and offered his first professional contract. Hair up in a knot, clean shaven, wrapped up in a warm sweater. Vulnerable as only Stede ever got to know him—he got to see Blackbeard out on the ice, too, focused and intense. He got to see driven Ed, only a few months from earning his Master of Law. He got to share Ed with their teammates, with their friends.
But the Ed who needed him? Who wanted him? Who whispered words of love—and passion—for his ears alone? That Ed was all Stede’s.
That Ed sat before him now, looking up at him through his lashes. Then he opened his mouth. “Stede. Guess you figured out this was all a ruse. I panicked. Knew I wanted to propose but, uh, didn’t know what else to do, so I thought that I should add a flourish, so I set up this whole thing.”
Stede croaked out, “The photo, the keychain—”
Ed slipped the photo from Stede’s hand and returned it to its place, taking out the ring. “Yeah, so the photo is us, and hockey, and how met and all that.” He closed the wallet and tweaked the keychain with a finger. “The cages are us, the way we are now— Both of us in the hockey world but at different stages, but we’re still locked together.” He turned his hand on the table, palm up, and Stede set his palm to Ed’s. “And the ring is... Us, together, onto the next adventure. However you want it, I don’t know, a wedding or just at the courthouse or—”
“It can be whatever we want it to be.”
“Yeah.” Ed nudged the ring onto Stede’s finger. A sturdy band of gold, with a turquoise stone, a thing of beauty.
“Can I get you a ring?”
“‘Yeah, ’course. Love that.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Always.”
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Ed’s mouth. “Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Yes!” Ed laughing, said it again as their desserts appeared before them.
Turned out Ed had gotten one each of the cake and the millefoglie, so Stede spooned up some of his and held it for Ed to taste, and Ed did the same for him. His ring flashed under the golden chandelier lights, the same lights that shone in the golden-brown depths of Ed’s eyes. And he couldn’t keep kissing Ed in public, but he could keep his hand on Ed’s leg, under the table, and he did, squeezing each time he felt the urge, and pushing, at hip and shoulder, harder and harder into Ed’s side, as if they might seal their bodies together, never to be parted.
They didn’t linger long over their drinks. The blend of coffee and chocolate and cream warmed him up inside, but not half as much as Ed’s story of how he’d arranged the whole night. Even though it was painfully obvious how much had hinged on the fact Stede was apparently oblivious to all that was going on around him. Still, the soothing warmth also came from being in Ed’s hands—and being held safely. Ed could do anything.
Visions of the ring he wanted to commission for Ed were also rather pleasant.
They thanked the owner and servers, hurried back to their hotel, and finally, door closed on the world, Stede got to kiss Ed as thoroughly as he desired, and be kissed, affectionately and feverishly, by Ed. His fiancé.
***
Stede had shed most of his layers, but still had that fedora on his head. Ed hadn’t lied when he’d said he liked it on Stede. Stede somehow managed to suit anything he was wearing; he could carry off short shorts as well as he wore a tuxedo, or full hockey gear—or just jeans, a button-up shirt, and a fedora.
Maybe something in his expression finally burrowed past Stede’s self-consciousness, because the next thing Ed knew, Stede was strutting towards him where he’d perched on the end of the bed.
He swayed his hips and, mouth parted, whipped off the hat, arm over his face as he put on a pouting, come here look.
Ed couldn’t resist, didn’t want to resist, didn’t have to. Stede was all his—Stede acted this way for him. All with Ed’s ring shining on his finger.
Ed swept up and gathered him into his arms, bending him backward like in some old-timey dance, kissing his lips, his jaw, his neck. “Fiancé,” he murmured, and Stede actually melted, sliding through his arms and collapsing onto the bed.
So Ed carried on, standing over Stede, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging down the zipper on his jeans. He’d already flung off his own clothes, wrapped himself up in one of the hotel spa robes. He got his hands in Stede’s waistband, and Stede wriggled about and, together, they worked off his painted-on jeans.
Stede sat up long enough to tear off his shirt. Then, down to boxer-briefs and socks, fell back again. He looked up and crooked an inviting finger at Ed.
Ed, grinning, let the robe fall down his arms, then crawled up and over Stede’s body. Bracketed Stede’s face with his arms.
Shivered.
“My poor fiancé!” Stede said right away. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
Before Ed could protest that the whole point was to kiss Stede to warm up, Stede had rolled him off and gotten off the bed altogether, and started going around, dimming the lights and rearranging the junk on their bedside tables.
Ed let him get on with it, knowing that having everything arranged to his satisfaction put Stede at ease. The only trouble was, he’d already washed up and tied back his hair, and now he had to wait for Stede to go through his nighttime routine. Still, his knee had pained him on and off during the day, walking around in the chill, and it was probably a good idea to stretch it a little. He burrowed under the covers and the robe Stede draped over the top, picked up the book he’d bought at the airport, and read a couple of pages.
By the time Stede emerged, wrapped in a cloud of his usual coconut and pineapple and vanilla, like a vacation and a honeymoon all in one, Ed had started to yawn. He wasn’t shivering anymore, but still wasn’t exactly warmed up. Stede snuggled in beside him, then paused. He looked at his ring, and pouted.
Ed took Stede’s hand in his and kissed his knuckle, above the ring. “Don’t want to take it off?”
“No.”
They snuggled down into the pillows together, face to face. “I mean, you don’t have to, depending on what we do.”
“Let me taste you, then.”
“Yeah. ’kay.” His eyes were already falling shut even before Stede closed the gap between them and kissed him. He kept his fingers intertwined with Stede’s, gripping tight just to feel the ring cutting into him.
He’d asked Fang to help, as the best way to find a ring without alerting Stede as to what he was up to, and he’d kept the search as short as he could, just a couple of months, because he knew Fang would be bursting to spill the secret to Pete and Lucius. He wasn’t used to seeing the ring on Stede’s finger yet, and he didn’t want Stede to take it off, either.
He kissed back, drowsy, messy with it, getting past their toothpaste freshness to Stede’s true taste, the sweetness that was all his own. He grasped at warmth, free hand at Stede’s lower back, curving over his arse to pull him close before he skimmed over and grasped Stede’s cock. Hot, and dry, but Stede thrust instantly into his hold.
Then, suddenly, he had to break away to stifle a yawn into a pillow. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he mumbled.
Stede just chuckled and, moving down Ed’s body, wrapped his hand about Ed’s cock. “Some of you is awake,” he said with a smirk in his voice.
Ed kept his eyes shut, and didn’t bother chirping back. He was sleepy, yeah, but he didn’t want to not give himself up to his fiancé’s mouth.
Stede took him in the way he always did, enthusiastic and wet. Like he couldn’t get enough of tasting Ed, like he had to lick at him just to see if he tasted different to last time.
Ed’s hands fell to his sides, and he sank into the bed, and Stede’s ring hand found his, clasping tight. For a while, he went on as he’d begun, licking and sucking indiscriminately, teasing Ed with fingertips grazing up his leg, over his balls.
Ed sank deeper, all senses reduced to the warm glow of the lamp beyond his eyelids, the softness of Stede’s mouth, the soothing, familiar scent of vanilla. An aching pleasure followed in the wake of Stede’s tongue, of Stede’s trailing fingers.
Then Stede wrapped his hand about Ed’s cock and hollowed his cheeks.
Ed rose up out of sleepiness with a jolt. He didn’t want to keep startling like that, and he didn’t want to be too far gone to minister to Stede after.
He reached down and curved his fingers about Stede’s nape. “Come up here, love.”
Stede drew off, and came, grabbing the lube off the nightstand. Again they lay face to face, and Stede insinuated a leg between Ed’s. Ed didn’t notice where the lube went, but Stede cupped his cheeks with both hands, and kissed him.
Ed fell into the kisses. Again, as he always did, Stede eclipsed the world for him. There was nowhere else to be, no one else to be with, only Stede’s eager mouth and happy little noises, and the pleased hums Ed could draw from him as he kissed him and kissed him, and didn’t stop.
At some point, Stede’s hand worked its way down, and he’d gotten lube on his fingers, maybe Ed had slept through that bit, but the kisses didn’t stop, and he wasn’t cold at all anymore, and this could even be a dream, the best dream of his life—his life was a dream.
“Stede,” he mumbled, and buried his face in Stede’s neck. One brain cell woke up. “Fiancé.” He giggled.
“Fiancé,” Stede said back, and took Ed’s cock firmly in hand alongside his. “We could keep that up for months. Stay engaged for a year.”
Ed, sleep-drunk, giggled again. “Bother everyone. Pretend to argue over where to get married.”
Stede stroked them, long and slow. Ed’s laughter had roused him a bit, so he pushed his hand down to join Stede. The heat between them was perfect. “Gonna be at the house, yeah?”
“Yep,” Stede agreed. “By the lake.”
“Nowhere else,” Ed confirmed. They barely had to say a word, on the same page without even having to talk it through. Their house by the lake, the home they’d shared for nearly a year now; there was no other place they’d rather be, no other spot important enough for their wedding.
“I’ll tell the others I want to go to Barbados.”
Ed kissed him. “Yeah, well, I want...Uh... On a rink.” He kissed his way down Stede’s throat, then stalled there, breathing in Stede’s holiday scents, as they found a new rhythm.
Stede matched his pace, and their breaths came quicker, and Stede was gasping, and Ed meant to latch on and leave a mark, but couldn’t haul in breath enough, and then Stede moaned and said, “Fiancé,” and Ed crashed into the boards.
Shuddering, he spilled over Stede’s hand, and his own hand, and in between the spikes of pleasure, he rumbled back, “Fiancé,” and brought Stede down with him.
Their chests heaved together, the gasps for air gradually turned to easy breathing together. Stede squirmed, and Ed let him go, keeping his eyes closed, to hang on to the wash of pleasure still coursing its way through his body. They eclipsed the world each time they came together, and Ed needed that surety as much as he needed air.
Stede gave him a kiss and a squeeze, then slid out of bed, and Ed listened to him moving about, water running. “If we had a winter wedding, we could have a rink,” Stede said, as he came back with a damp washcloth.
“Could go to Barbados for a honeymoon,” Ed told him, finally ready to open his eyes. He accepted the cloth and wiped himself off.
“Could do.” Stede switched out the light and cosied up to him in the bed in the sudden dark. “What kinds of flowers should we have?”
“Pretty ones,” Ed said promptly, slotting his body firmly into the nooks and crannies of Stede’s. “All the pretty colours you want, love.”
No longer sleepy, fully soothed, they murmured suggestions back and forth, making plans—revealing dreams. Always eager to head out together onto new adventures.