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Ed sat on his couch watching Labyrinth for the fiftieth time, wrapped in his favorite plush chenille blanket, when he heard a knock at the door. He let out a frustrated groan as he heaved his sore body up from the deep cushions and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders like the curmudgeonly old hermit he dreamed of becoming one day. He didn't spare a glance at the hall mirror before opening up the door, and he was sure that if he had he would have seen dark circles under his eyes, extremely tangled hair, and perhaps some stains from lunch earlier today on his threadbare t-shirt.
He blinked into the sunlight, frown forming on his face. Wait, not sunlight, the human embodiment of sunshine. The most incandescently beautiful man that he has ever seen in his life was standing on his front porch among the dead leaves and rotting pumpkins that Ed hadn't taken a moment to clear off the bricks. Absentmindedly, he ran a hand over his hair to smooth it down.
"Uh, hi?" he said. Brilliant. Great opener.
"Erm, hello," the man responded, raising his hand in an embarrassed little wave. He had thick golden curls on his head and was dressed in a powder blue three piece suit, no tie, the collar of his white shirt unbuttoned slightly to show off a tantalizing peek of his pink throat. Interesting fashion choice for November. He flashed a nervous smile at Ed, a dimple forming quickly on his cheek and then disappearing.
For a moment the two men just stared at each other.
"So—er—can I help you?" Ed asked. He had a feeling that he knew why the man was here, but he could always hope—
"I'm here looking for true love," the man replied, eyes going big.
Fuck, this always fucking happened. See, Ed had a certain aesthetic. His house was painted black and purple, crystal garden decorations and sun catchers scattered across his anti-lawn front yard (which was covered in wild flowers and spaces for pollinators to rest). He fit the stereotype of the witch in the most hackneyed form—wearing black, the eyeliner, the jewelry, generally being somewhat antisocial. What he would call good old-fashioned goth had people traveling far and wide looking for potions and spells, landing on his doorstep.
He frowned. "Sorry, mate, the witch actually lives across the street," he replied, pointing to the bright magenta bungalow with a progress pride flag hanging from the door. The man looked like he was about to interrupt, but Ed pressed forward. "I know, my house, my vibe, it looks like it would be me. Fuck, if I had a dollar, you know? But nah, Lucius across the street can fix you up. He won't do love potions, 'cause, you know, consent, but he can give you a potion to like improve your looks, you know, make you more handsome, desirable.
The blond frowned, looking a little hurt, looking over his shoulder and Ed realized how that sounded. "No! Not that you need that, fuck mate, you're gorgeous, and like nine times out of ten the shit he gives you actually does fuck all for your looks and just gives you more confidence, which attracts the right person. You're fuckin'—you're perfect mate, you don't actually need anything. Anyone would be lucky to have you. But yeah, you go visit him and he'll set you up." He stopped, panting, a little out of breath for talking for so long without stopping. What the fuck was wrong with him? He never talked this much; usually people are lucky to get a grunt out of him in most settings.
The blond gave him a fond looking smile and huffed a quiet laugh. "Um, actually, I've already seen Lucius. No potions, he just told me I should come over here and meet you?"
Ed frowned, perplexed, then looked over Stede's shoulder where he could see Lucius and his husband Pete spying on them through the window. Lucius, a younger man with hella sideburns gave him a smug smirk while Pete shot him double thumbs up. He giggled in surprise. Looking back at the man in front of him, he smiled appreciatively. "Oh, uh—"
"I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your afternoon though, I—shit. I didn't think. They told me to come over and for some reason I thought maybe you would expect me, but that's silly. I'll just leave you—"
"No!" Ed shouted, not wanting this man to get away without at least knowing his name.
"No?"
"No, uh. My name is Ed," he introduced himself holding out his hand. The blond looked at him with a small frown on his face as though he was trying to work something out.
"Hi Ed," he smiled, starting slow and unsure, but brightening as he reached out and touched Ed's hand. "I'm Stede."