guardians of a rare thing
“You,” Ed starts to interrupt him, then stops, clearing his throat. His voice is almost— gritting, cracking in the middle. When he starts again, he’s stronger, but still— shaky. “You made me this? I mean— You made this? For me?”
Stede’s not entirely sure what he means by that, but he has that little bubbling sensation he always gets when Ed is making him happy. It’s this simmering, glowing joy that always rises inside him, like it’s going to blow him up. He’s already smiling.
“I did,” Stede says. Ed sits up properly beside him, and Stede nudges his shoulder, jostles him a bit. “I thought you could use something a little bit soft. Besides me, you know.”
He’s expecting Ed to tease him in response, but instead, he doesn’t speak. He just keeps staring down at the blanket, clutched between his fingers.
or: five times stede did things for ed, and one time ed did something for stede.