Stede's voice wraps around him like a warm blanket. Even if it's only his name, it's soothing to his ears and held as something precious, as precious as the press of Stede's lips to his own.

It's lovely and wonderful but something low in his gut feels uneasy, like this was too much too fast, like he's back in again and could have serious harm done to him the moment he acknowledges that this was real.

Maybe it's better to think that it wasn't. This is a dream and he'll wake up in a cold sweat at any moment, sprawled out on the floor of his cabin as empty bottles of liquor roll across the floor and clang softly against him. Face swollen from crying himself to sleep the night before, head pounding. Miserable. Alone. The dream a mere distraction.

If it is a dream, he may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

He presses forward, forehead bunting against Stede's and holding him tight, his breath shaky.