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straightupsickfics · 1 year ago

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love is embarrassing

sicktember prompt #28: "I should've stayed home" inspired by this post

ed/stede | modern au |4.5k words in which stede drags himself to a first date, get stood up, and meets the very hot, very nice bartender who turns the night around <3

****

Normally, Stede relishes having an excuse to pull together an outfit, to explore his favorite pieces in his walk-in closet, and make something new to wear.

Today, however, is a rare exception. Stede can hardly bring himself to get up and off the couch, let alone muster the brain power it’s going to take to organize an ensemble, even if it is for a date he has rather been looking forward to all week.

Well, looking forward to it with a little bit of anxious dread mixed in, something he can never seem to shake when it comes to romance. It’s not like he thought it’d be easy, leaving his wife of fifteen years, letting his children down gently, and starting over completely at the age of forty-five, but he hadn’t really stopped to consider how lonely it would be, either.

And now, to top it all off, Stede had managed to pick up a truly terrible cold over the last few days. Today it seems to have settled in, made itself at home in his head and sinuses, leaving him exhausted, his eyes and nose streaming in almost equal measure as he works his way through recurring fits of ticklish, damp sneezes.

He should stay home tonight, he knows this. Instead though, Stede has been hydrating, alternating between water and strong, black tea, and downing cold medicine all day in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his date, David wouldn’t notice.

Sighing, Stede picks up his phone and finds a text from Lucius waiting for him.

Lucius: Hello? What, no panicked photos of the outfit? No “what if” date scenarios for me to puzzle through over brunch? Do you hate me??

Stede: I don’t do that

Lucius: 🤣 good one

Stede: 😶‍🌫️

Lucius: I’m kidding, you know I live for this, I’m AMAZING at pre-date planning

Stede: The advantages of being young and in love, I suppose…

Lucius: Oh, god, you’re not getting maudlin even before you go, right? It’s going to be fine, you’re going to put together a ridiculous (but slay) outfit, and he’s going to eat it up. Now, what are we wearing?

Stede looks at the blue sweatpants he would never leave the house in, the t-shirt that should have gone to the Goodwill years ago, and sighs again. He really should have started hours ago.

Stede: Can I FaceTime you?

Lucius: YES

“Hh! hdt-NGXT! Huh’ushhIEW! Ngh…” Stede tries and fails to smother the sneeze against his fist while he sifts through his options, a teal silk shirt, a lavender sweater, and a bright, mustard yellow button down all wait for him on the bed, and he watches as Lucius winces.

“Um, bless you? Are you sure you’re not getting sick? Because frankly that was pretty gross and sounded like it probably hurt.”

“It did, but I’mb finde…” Stede huffs, snuffling discreetly into a handful of tissues.

“Mm, too many letters in almost all of those words, babe,” Lucius says, wrinkling his nose. “Maybe the outfit you should actually be wearing is one of those hazmat suits.”

Stede pitches the tissues into the trash can and glares at his phone. “I thought you were going to help. This isn’t helping.”

Lucius arches an eyebrow and rolls his eyes. “Sir, yes sir. I’d go with the lavender. Looks nice with your hair. And you’re a bit pale for the others at present.”

He’s right, Stede knows, and he is grateful for the help, lucky to have had a work friend turn into a real friend over the last few years, especially as his divorce from Mary was happening, but Lucius had no filter, which was a blessing and a curse most days.

“Thanks, Lucius,” Stede says now. “I think you’re right, we’ll go with the lavender.” He does love the teal, has worn it on first dates in the past, but tonight it would only serve to draw attention to how completely worn out and pale he looks and feels, and he doesn’t want to deal with that.

Lucius gives him a mock salute in reply, and they chat for a few more minutes before Lucius has to go, warning Stede again to stay home if he was really feeling bad.

He falters for just a minute. His bed, even covered in clothes (and, okay, tissues) looks so inviting, a part of him wants nothing more than to climb right into it. But he has been looking forward to this, and David had already rescheduled twice.

So, Stede, stubborn as he is, waves Lucius off and sets about the long process of getting dressed, doing his hair, and carefully applying just a little concealer around the red-tinged parts of his nose. This takes the most time, as he finds himself applying and reapplying said concealer every time he has to stop to sneeze or blow his nose, which is far more often than he’d like.

When he’s finally ready, Stede takes another dose of cold medicine, shoves some cough drops into his pockets along with a travel packet of tissues, and sets out for his date. He’s texting that he’s on his way when he nearly drops his phone as a sneeze (or three) sneaks up on him.

“hH’UtsshH! Oh ndo… Huh’iiEEshh’uh! Huh-Ngtshh!”

It takes Stede another minute to compose himself, sniffling a good few times into the cuff of his jacket and sighing before he’s in his car and actually on his way to the restaurant, something called Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill that David had picked.

It was going to be a very long night.

Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill is so far up Stede’s alley he can’t believe he’s never been before now. It’s dark inside, and there’s an understated pirate theme throughout it. Not just a pirate flag and eyepatches, though. There’s an attention to detail there, a clear (to Stede) commitment to historical accuracy that he loves immediately.

Stede loves piracy, the whole idea of it. People running away to the sea, abandoning whatever haunted them on land, finding a new group of people to belong to…It sounds amazing, sometimes. It might not be — no, it definitely wasn’t—as romantic as Stede makes it out to be in his head, of course; piracy was brutal at the end of the day, but there’s something about it that Stede’s always found fascinating.

Running away to the sea is certainly something he’d thought about as he first started to come to terms with his sexuality, and the accompanying realization that he’d have to, eventually, tell Mary, therefore upending his entire life.

Stede has to blink himself back to the present, appreciating the delicate maps along the walls, the artwork of ships and shorelines along the walls, and of course, Blackbeard’s Jolly Roger flag hanging right by the bar.

He has to do a double take though, looking at the bar, because standing in front of the Jolly Roger is the bartender, who is quite possibly one of the best looking men Stede’s ever seen. He’s laughing at something a customer is saying in front of him, working a cocktail shaker with one heavily tattooed arm (was that a snake?) and setting out a glass with the other hand. His hair is a mix of black and gray, tied up in a half up half down ponytail, and Stede can’t bring himself to look away.

The drink gets poured, the man turns away to offer more rounds to other patrons, and Stede, eventually, realizes he’s been sitting at the table for over a half an hour with no sign of David. He frowns, picking up his phone, but there’s nothing there.

Stede: I’m here! Got us a table towards the back.

There’s no reply.

Twenty more minutes go by, and still, nothing.

Stede: He’s late

Lucius: Uh oh…

Stede: You don’t think. I mean. He’s coming, right? Just late…?

Lucius: Definitely. Traffic, probably! Btw how are you feeling?

Stede: Not the best, I’m afraid

Lucius: :( Hydrate while you wait!!

He’s right, and Stede takes a careful sip of his water. His throat hadn’t been too bad this afternoon, and he’s hoping it stays that way.

The waitress comes by just then, asking if she can bring anything for him to drink, get him started with any appetizers. He shakes his head, murmuring that he’s just waiting for someone, they’d order when he arrives, and she nods with a smile and walks away.

It’s not long after that that Stede gives in and checks his phone again. Still no reply. His stomach twists.

He can’t be getting stood up, tonight of all nights, when he wanted nothing more than to stay home in the first place. Right?

His nose gives a twinge just then, and Stede fumbles for the packet of tissues he has in his pocket, just bringing them to his nose and mouth as he sneezes four times in quick succession, his eyes and nose streaming by the end of the fit, the sneezes stronger and wetter than they’d been earlier, making them entirely impossible to hold back.

“hh’uHTSH! Snf! H-hh’uHTSHH! uuhh’TSH! huh’Eeiishh!” The tissues are useless by the end, too, and Stede drags himself to the bathroom to blow his nose in peace, splashing some water on his face for good measure.

He looks in the mirror, blinking a few times and trying to bring some life back into his face, but there’s no hope, it seems.

David had been right to stand him up, Stede thinks. He’s a mess.

Stede: I don’t think he’s coming, I’m afraid :(

Lucius: Nooo, I’m so sorry. Seriously. Do you want to come over? I won’t even complain about the germs.

Stede: Thank you, but I’m alright. Think I’ll give it a bit longer, sit at the bar instead of taking over a table, and then head out.

Lucius: <3 Call me in the morning!

“What can I get you, mate?” The tattooed bartender asks when Stede sits down at the bar.

“Oh, umb… J-just..huh!’ISH! Sorry, just a glass of Chardonnay?” Wine is probably definitely not a good idea tonight, Stede knows, but he feels like wallowing a little before going home.

“Sure thing, here you go.” The bartender sets the drink down and gives Stede a small, friendly smile. He really is beautiful.

“Thanks,” Stede says with a sigh. He looks at the glass and any desire to drink it vanishes. He just feels bad, tired and congested and achy all over.

“Uh oh, that’s a big sigh for a Saturday night,” the bartender says. The bar is currently empty aside from Stede and a woman sitting at the opposite end, and Stede looks at the man with his dark, kind eyes, and it all comes pouring out.

“I think I’m being stood up,” Stede confesses. “He rescheduled two times before this, which should’ve been a sign, I guess, but I thought we’d hit it off, texting and all that…”

“Damn, hate that. Just say you’re not feeling it, yeah? Why make someone feel like shit? S’why I don’t date so much anymore, myself.”

“You might be onto something there. Maybe I should get cats,” Stede says, sighing again.

At this, the bartender lights up. “Cats are the best. Love cats. Here, look…” He fishes his phone out of his back pocket and holds it out to Stede. On the lockscreen is a black cat with white feet, curled up on what has to be the bartender’s chest. In the picture, he’s wearing a shirt with a purple octopus on it, his hair down around his shoulders, his face cut off aside from a small smile.

It’s adorable.

“That’s Frank,” the bartender says. “Well, Frankfurter, one of his many names.”

Stede laughs, which turns abruptly into a coughing fit that lasts long enough for the bartender to grab a glass of ice water and place it in front of him.

“That doesn’t sound great,” he says as Stede takes a sip.

“Sorry about that. I probably should’ve stayed home,” Stede admits. “Thought I could power through for this date. Though if I’d had the sense to cancel I wouldn’t have been stood up.”

The man shakes his head. “S’all good. Kind of saw you sitting over there for a while, I wondered why someone like you’d be sitting alone for so long.”

Stede feels his face flush. Someone like him. What did that mean?

“In a good way,” the bartender clarifies. “I’m Ed,” he says.

“Ah. Stede. I’d shake your hand but…”

Ed smiles, holds up his hand and gives Stede a little air high-five. “There we go.”

Stede can’t help but smile back, genuinely, for the first time all night.

They sit there for a while, too long, probably, given how bad Stede feels, but Ed’s so nice, and really very funny, telling stories about the people he gets at the bar, about Frank, about his obsession with the ocean and pirate history.

“I love pirates,” Stede tells him excitedly. “I actually can’t believe I hadn’t been here before. You must’ve been thrilled to get a job here, then,” he adds.

Ed’s eyebrows lift for a split second, but then he’s nodding. “Yeah, love it,” he says.

Just then, a shorter, dark-haired man appears from the back, shooting a glowering look at Ed. “If there’s not enough customers, you could always come back and help with the order for next week, Edward,” he says. “Or are you too busy chatting up your guests?”

Ed frowns, his entire face changing as he turns to reply. “Fuck off, would you Izzy? It’ll all get done, thanks.”

The man gives a long-suffering sigh and turns, disappearing around a corner, gone as fast as he came.

“Was that… y’know, Blackbeard?” Stede asks, voice low.

Ed pauses again, then shakes his head. “Mm? No, I’m Blackbeard,” he says with a smile and a gesture to his face. “More scruff than beard these days, though,” he adds.

“Oh! You… Blackbeard’s is yours?”

“Yep! That was Izzy, my so-called right hand man. He’s gotten a little too comfortable running the show since he knows I prefer stuff like this,” Ed says, gesturing to the bar. “Just talking to people, you know?”

Stede nods. “You can tell you really love the place,” he tells him. “Thought so as soon as I came in.”

Ed smiles, and it’s amazing, really, the way his face lights up at the compliment. “Thanks, man, yeah, Iz thought I spent too much on the decor, but how often do you open the place of your dreams? Really just went for it.”

“It’s perfect,” Stede agrees.

A comfortable lull falls over their conversation, and Stede takes another small sip of his wine for something to do. He must make a face, though, because Ed’s shaking his head when he looks back up.

“Think what you should do is let me make you some tea, if you’re staying,” he says.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do all that. I really should be—”

“—Would be nice if you stayed,” Ed finishes.

Oh.

“Well, if you don’t mind all this,” Stede says, gesturing to his face. He can’t imagine he looks any worse than he had earlier in the bathroom, but he can’t be making a good first impression, either.

“Nah, you’re good. Most interesting person to come in here in…forever,” Ed says. “Be right back,” he promises, disappearing into what must be the kitchen and coming back a few minutes later, with the promised mug of steaming water and a selection of tea bags for Stede.

He’s touched. Sure, Ed owns the place, but still, he didn’t have to go out of his way to make Stede tea for his stupid cold.

The mug has the Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill logo on it, emblazoned across a pirate flag, and the warmth of it warms Stede right through immediately.

“Mint sounds nice,” he says, grabbing it and letting it steep. He makes the mistake of lifting the mug to his face, the steam immediately shaking something loose in his sinuses, and ends up sneezing another good few times in a row.

“hd’ISCHuh! Eh’sschIEW! ii’Tiishh’uh! SNF!” Stede takes two more tissues from the pack in his pocket, realizing that he’s down to just one left, and grimaces.

“God bless you,” Ed says sympathetically. “Makes it even worse that this guy didn’t show up when you went to all the trouble of coming out, feeling so bad and all.”

“Mm, no trouble. I did have a friend help with the outfit, though,” Stede admits. “One of my first dates after a divorce and all, needed some help.”

“Good on them, then, that color’s perfect for you,” Ed tells him, and he sounds like he means it.

Stede gives him a smile but shakes his head. “He did also suggest a hazmat suit.”

This gets a laugh from Ed, and it’s a lovely sound, one Stede wishes he had the time to get used to.

Ed seems to realize something all at once. “Wait, did you say first date?”

Stede sinks in his seat a little bit as he nods. “One of the first,” he says. “Though it always feels like the first after fifteen years of marriage to a woman, anyway. Suppose I’m something of a late bloomer,” Stede admits, feeling his face go warm. “Probably too late.”

Ed softens at this, the surprise on his face washing away. “No such thing as too late, mate. Look at me, I came out at fifteen and look at me, alone with my cat and my bar. Don’t even have a divorce to blame it on.”

For some reason, this makes Stede’s throat go tight, his eyes stinging with tears. God, he cannot cry because one stranger was being nice to him.

“Here,” Ed says, pulling a deep red handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to Stede with a nod and a small smile and turning away, giving him a minute of privacy. “You probably need this more than I will tonight,” he says.

Stede dabs at his eyes, appreciating Ed’s kindness all the more.

Stede takes a few deep, steadying breaths and sips his tea as other customers come and go, as Izzy appears and disappears with another disapproving shake of his head, and through it all, Ed always makes his way back to Stede’s end of the bar, offering him more tea, more water, another story or picture of Frank when things slow back down.

All at once, Stede realizes that he’s having a better time than he’d ever expected to, even if David had bothered to show up for their date.

“What’s that face, mate? You’re looking like you did when you first came over…oh, fuck, like two hours ago,” Ed says, looking at the time.

“Two human hours?” Stede gasps. It’d gone by so fast he hadn’t even noticed, though he is definitely more tired now than he’d been before.

Ed laughs again and Stede wants to bottle the sound of it. He really must be delirious from this cold.

“Human hours,” Ed confirms.

“You know, I think I’m actually glad he didn’t show up? It’s been so lovely talking to you, Ed,” Stede says.

“Same goes,” Ed says with another one of his warm smiles. “This is the most fun I’ve had at work in ages, maybe ever.”

This feels like the best first date Stede’s ever been on, though he keeps that thought to himself, along with a firm reminder that this is definitely not a date.

Another hour passes in the blink of an eye, and Stede shifts in his seat, the tell tale twinge somewhere in the back of his sinuses letting him know that very soon, he’s going to need more tissues than he has at the moment. He really should be getting home and into bed, starting the process of sleeping off this wretched cold. Though, as miserable as he feels, the night hadn’t been a total loss after all, thanks to Ed.

“Well,” Stede says, sniffling, “I think I’d better get home. If my eyes get any heavier I’ll be asleep right here on your bar, and no one wants that.” He’d intended it to come across as a joke, but his voice is so wrecked from this cold and the all too recent tears that it comes out just as run down and, frankly, sad as he feels.

“Mm, yeah, no, might get a crick in your neck,” Ed says, as if that’s the only problem with what Stede said, and not the million and one sick person germs he’d be leaving behind. He smiles at Stede, the way he has been the whole night, while making him laugh, while making him feel better about being stood up, while pouring him drinks he claimed were on the house.

“Exactly,” Stede says, returning the smile. His head really does feel heavy though, his sinuses throbbing with the cold he’d pushed off and ignored for far too long tonight. He pictures his bed, a safe haven despite its emptiness, and stands up before he can change his mind. He’s strangely reluctant to leave Ed, funny, kind Ed, but it’s really for the best, leaving before Stede gets one of his crazy ideas. Like thinking that Ed could possibly, actually like him.

It’s Ed’s job to be nice to strangers, Stede reminds himself.

He’s just doing his job.

“Well,” Stede begins. “Thank you, again, truly, for being so nice to me tonight. I’ve been quite a mess and this … really helped,” he says, too honestly, he’s sure of it, given the way his eyes sting and his sore throat thickens with the threat of yet more tears. God, he really does have to get out of here.

Ed looks at him, his gaze lingering on Stede’s face. The restaurant’s emptying out now, people finishing the last of their glasses of wine, letting their dates wind down before they head home, and Stede feels that familiar twinge in his gut, a mix of jealousy and longing. It would be nice to go home with someone, that’s all. Or home to someone.

The sound of Ed’s voice breaks him out of his pathetic thought spiral.

“You’ll have to let me know when you get home,” Ed says, sliding his phone onto the bar and over to Stede. “Can’t have you falling asleep at the wheel, I’d never forgive myself.” He gives Stede an encouraging little smile before turning to grab an empty glass a few feet away.

“Oh, I barely drank anything! I’ll be alright, I promise, you don’t need to worry about me,” Stede says. He’s a very safe driver, even with his cold-foggy head, he can make the fifteen minute drive home no problem, and he really had only taken a few sips of the wine two hours ago.

Ed turns back around to face him, amusement written across his face. “M’trying to get your number here, mate,” he says simply, as if it’s nothing, and not something that has never—literally never—happened to Stede Bonnet.

“Oh,” Stede says, face flushing as he realizes.

Ed just lifts his phone and unlocks it, handing it to Stede again. “For safety reasons,” he says with a wink.

Stede enters his number with hands that feel, suddenly, a little shaky, adds his name, and hands the phone back to Ed.

“Stede Bonnet (from the bar)” Ed reads out, smirking. “Thank god you specified, now I won’t get you confused with all the Stede Bonnets I’ve met elsewhere…”

“Oh, well, I didn’t— I just thought…” Stede tries.

“S’all good, Stede, really. There we go…” He types something and nods and Stede’s own phone lights up immediately.

Stede reads the message: Edward Teach (Born on the beach)

“Were you actually?” He asks, intrigued.

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t,” Ed says mysteriously. “You’ll have to find out. Over dinner or something. Not here,” he adds. “When you’re feeling up for it.”

Stede’s pretty sure all the DayQuil he’d been chugging all day has caught up with him, because there’s simply no way this is happening to him right now, not when he looks and feels like this. Ed is gorgeous, all warm, dark skin under his tattoos, his salt and pepper hair falling out of his half ponytail just a little at this point, the rest hanging over his shoulders. Not to mention the perfect, deep brown eyes that Stede’s been entirely too captivated by all evening, it’s…

It’s too good to be true, surely. It’s too much.

“Sorry, too much?” Ed says, reading his mind. “I have a tendency to come on a little strong, or so I’ve been told.”

“No!” Stede says quickly. “Not at all, you’re perfect. This just… doesn’t happen to me,” he confesses. “And I’ve been sniffling and sneezing at you all evening, and you’re so, well handsome… and…” He trails off again helplessly.

“And so are you,” Ed says easily. “And hey, if you manage to look this good when you feel this bad, I’m going to be fucking in for it next time, aren’t I?” He winks again. “You really should go, though, you look dead on your feet, and you’ve been through it tonight. Not to mention listening to me rambling all night,” he grins.

Stede nods. “I’ll text you when I get home,” he says, smiling down at his phone. He’ll collapse into bed, and text Ed, and let him be sweet and kind to him and wish him a goodnight.

And, for once, Stede’s confident that these texts won’t go unanswered.

“Holding you to that,” Ed says. “Goodnight, Stede Bonnet from the bar.”

Stede’s still smiling when he unlocks his front door and sends the promised text to Ed.

The next morning, Stede has a few texts waiting for him.

Lucius: Sign of life check, hellooo?? What ended up happening last night???

Edward Teach (Born on the beach): Morning, Stede from the bar, hope you’re not feeling too bad! If you want I could…bring you breakfast on the way into work this morning? If you don’t mind giving a strange man your address, that is

David: So sorry! I overscheduled myself last night, can we try again next week?

Stede deletes the text from David, then deletes his number all together. Good riddance.

He promises Lucius he’s alive, just sick, and promises to call him later to fill him in. This leads to a flurry of new texts full of question marks and eye emojis.

Stede: Good morning, Ed! Thank you again for last night. And you’re hardly a “strange man” after that! I really did have a wonderful time in spite of it all. I do feel pretty gross this morning, though :( Can we raincheck breakfast to one we can have…together?

Edward Teach (Born on the beach): I’d love that

#don't mind me essentially remixing my own fic into a sickfic #throwing everything i love into it #crying and colds and fun texting and lots of dialogue and sneaking in canon quotes and topping it all off with an olivia rodrigo lyric titl #my fic #of//md #sicktember

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