Stede, who has no fucking idea how to find food in the middle of an abandoned farm. Who's clueless about shit Ed's known since he was a kid. Which is how he spends the morning stopping Stede from poisoning himself at his attempts at gathering a 'proper breakfast.'

"Excuse you!" Stede stares as Ed sneezes directly on the pile of mushrooms he'd been trying to gather. Poisonous mushrooms, which had been preceded by poisonous berries and the saddest fucking salad Ed had ever seen. And that's coming from someone who had a breakfast of grass and probably spiders.

And since he doesn't want Stede to poison himself OR trip balls on wild mushrooms, Ed takes matters into his hooves. He knows the area vaguely, remembers blackberries growing wild. It just takes a while to find them. It also means shoving Stede to stop him from falling into the thorns on accident.

It might have been irritating, except, Stede made such a delighted noise Ed curved his neck in pleasure. And more than that, Stede pricked himself at least a dozen times collecting the berries before coming out, mussed and scratched, holding a handful of berries out to Ed so fucking proudly.

Ed carefully takes the offerings, lips gliding over soft palms with a care not to use his teeth. They're sweet and bright. A burst of flavor over his tongue that leaves him closing his eyes to savor it. He hears the giggle before a soft hand smooths down his cheek. "Like them, do you?"

"Perhaps I can call you Blackberry?" Stede ventures and Ed opens his eyes with a disdainful snort. "Oh, well, perhaps not." He relents easily. "But don't worry, I'll figure out your name, never fear." "No you won't." Ed thinks sadly. "Wish you would, though, sort of miss being Ed."

Later that morning Ed figures out a few things pretty fucking quickly. The first is that Stede wasn't joking about his directional sense. The man has literally no idea where he's going, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm and a willingness to give Ed his head.

The other is that Stede isn't joking about trying to find his name as they set off at an easy walk. He talks almost continuously in a bright songbird voice that Ed can't help but enjoy. It makes him feel like they're having an actual conversation as he occasionally snorts or bobs his head to.

"I wish I'd looked for a nameplate." Stede frets. "I don't want to give you the wrong one." "They called me Kraken, mate, anything is better than that bullshit." He thinks in amusement. "You're quite a striking color." Ed feels a hand trace the dapples of his neck. "Dapples? No, still wrong."

Which is how Ed finds out that Stede is kind of a bitch, in the best fucking way. "At least you're not Socks. Do you know how many Socks there are? It's like a rule, if you have horses you have a Socks." Stede says cattily. "And don't get me started on Thunder! Or Storm!"

"And don't fucking forget about 'Red'!" Ed wants to add while he picks up his pace into a cheeky trot that Stede bounces along with. "And chestnuts named Red! It's just a bloody color, so unimaginative!" Stede continues on while those strong fucking legs grip Ed's side securely.

Ed laughs, the sound whinnies out as he tosses his head and he can't seem to stop it. Not human at all, but Stede is laughing and it sounds like they're sharing a joke. It feels good, so fucking good. "I'll figure it out, I promise." Stede ends up saying when laughter subsides. Ed believes him.

They stop, once, in a small village where Stede manages to secure actual supplies in the hopes Ed won't have to save him from tripping balls on mushrooms. Of course, he doesn't just come back with shit like bread, cheese, fruit and meat. No, he comes back with a jaunty red silk cravat and a map.

"There's no reason I have to look shabby as a fugitive." Stede sniffs as he neatly ties the bright. "Quite a fetching red, isn't it?" Ed can't really say, not like horses can SEE red. It just kinda looks yellowish-brown, but he remembers red well enough. "And see here!" Stede waves the map at him.

"A map of all of Blackbeard's hideouts and secrete routes." He opens the paper while Ed snorts disdainfully. "Now, none of that! Just look at it! Tatty edges. It's burnt! It's been around, it's seen things." Ed eyes the thing and wants to roll his eyes affectionately. Lunatic.

The saving grace is that Stede has absolutely no fucking idea how to properly read the map. Most of it is just a gathering of scribbles to fool the gullible. Stede seems happy as hell with his purchase before showing off his last prize. "For you!" Stede beams as he offers up the apple.

He doesn't just jam the whole thing in Ed's mouth, instead he neatly cuts slices and hand feeds them one at a time. His other hand scratches Ed's neck, down to his chest. "Maybe I could call you Blackbeard?" Stede tries out which makes Ed flatten his ears immediately. "Oh! No, not that, I see."

The good news turns out to be that Stede has no fucking idea how to read a map properly. The ironic news is that Ed takes them on a route that uses his old hideouts. Each night he's stripped of tack, rubbed down, fretted over and pampered. Each night he thinks about running. Each night he stays.

It's nearly three days into their journey north when he sees the first wanted poster. Or, more accurately, Stede sees it and gives an outraged noise. "Look!" He waggles the paper under Ed's nose. "They've made me look like a ghoul!" Ed helpfully catches it in his teeth a rips it in solidarity.

It's fun, it's EASY is the thing. They just pass time so well together and Ed sorta feels like he's on a trip with a mate. Just chattering along even if Ed can't offer more than equine sounds or ear twitches. It still feels like he's a part of the way Stede just talks with him. Learns some shit.

"It wasn't like the kiss with Jeffrey was all that fantastic." Stede sighs heavily while Ed crops at grass, ears pointed towards him attentively. "I thought-well, the way Mary talks about Doug, I thought it'd be fireworks and such that books talk about." Ed thinks he kissed the wrong bloke.

Mary, he learns, is Stede's wife who has been fucking her art instructor for several years. Stede knows, you see, because he was an unhinged maniac that had sort of watched a few times. Just to see what he was doing WRONG of course. "I would have rather been in Mary's position really." He sighs.

Ed can't help but imagine how he'd kiss Stede if he could. It's sort of a fantasy, him back in his proper body carding fingers through that soft fluffy gold hair, pulling Stede in close. Maybe he tips Stede back? Maybe he lays claim to that mouth with a needy growl that Stede returns?

Those thoughts are mostly harmless. Daydreams he tries to have when he's not actively in view of Stede since certain parts of a horse are really fucking hard to ignore if he gets too into it. He keeps them harmless. And then Stede decides he needs to take a bath on their fourth day.

"This is how I fucking die." Ed thinks and tries to STARE at the ground rather than a fully, devastatingly, naked Stede Bonnet. He'd woken up to splashing and investigated to the man in a shallow pool with his clothes flung up on rocks drying and swimming around. Just EVERYTHING out there. Christ!

"How about Godfrey?" Stede ventures, just floating on the water like the worlds sexiest lilypad that Ed wants to lick from head to toe. "Hmm no, God that's pretentious." "Don't look, don't fucking look, fuck's sake, Teach. You look and you're gonna be poking his eye out." Ed remind himself firmly.

Ed's never really been a gentleman. Fuck, half the times he'd had a partner it had been a few words before tumbling them into a bed, but then there's Stede. Sweet wistful Stede talking about fireworks in books and he just tries to behave, even turns around entirely. Which is how he sees them.

Ed knows the type as they slip along the bushes in clothes they've likely taken from victims. Slouching opportunistic criminals that would be the sort to come for a naked man splashing in a pool. One is bigger, broader, with a gun in one hand while the other grips a dirty looking knife. Bastards.

It happens too fast. Chaos and the smell of gun powder as the bigger man fires off the gun as a warning shot while the shorter one makes a lunge towards the water. And there's Stede, naked, fucking helpless Stede, scrambling onto the shore and rushing towards his clothing while the gun's reloaded.

"Hold it right there, blondie." The shorter man snarls in a gruff voice, jerking his knife forward. "We'll be taking those." "The hell you will!" Stede stares at him, hands covering his nudity and cheeks blazing red. "Get away from those!" And he lunges towards his clothes. Suicidal. Daft. Insane.

The sound of the gun and scent of black powder, people running and Stede's yells slam into fucking equine instincts that Ed can't control. He jolts back, ears flat and eyes rolling with the urge to RUN. FLEE. The bigger man grabs the bridle to lunge for him while Ed trembles with the urge to bolt.

"Just stab the fucker!" The bigger man snarls, lurching to grab Ed's forelock. "The hell you will!" Stede begins and actually slams a fist into the smaller man's stomach. Ed feels his heart hammering. Not safe, DANGER, run, fucking fun, get away. Nostrils flare and his sides quiver.