Chapter Text
Stede Bonnet always had a penchant for daydreaming.
Once he started building the Revenge, his daydreams came to take the shape of plans.
None of his plans prepared him for sitting on deck with two Izzy Hands, after having his brain sucked out of his penis by the younger one.
He really was trying to do his best on being polite - he didn’t want to intrude in the conversation between the two Izzies, but it was getting progressively harder to do so, especially with how clear it was that he was the subject of the conversation.
And he definitely was not staring at the two of them either, no. Israel, sitting on a barrel, playing at relaxed but too high strung to convince anyone who looked at him for more than a second.
Izzy, still wrapped up in a blanket, cup of tea in his hands. His hair was wet, a rebel strand falling in front of his face, framing his features in a way that made him look quite hand—
“What the hell were you thinking?” Izzy snarled to his younger self and it was enough to snap Stede out of his train of thought. He sounded disappointed - like Stede was someone you wouldn’t bring home to your parents, and not his captain.
“I needed to distract him,” Israel answered, a mullish look on his face, his lips stuck on a small pout. Lips that just a few minutes ago had been around—
Stede shifted on his feet. He couldn’t entertain that thought. God, how old was Israel?
Was Stede his first? Was he a pervert for liking that thought as much as he liked Israel’s pliant throat around him, his hands being his back, the perfect picture of subservience—
“And that’s what you decided on doing? He’s already— he distracts himself on his own, fucking look at him!”
“Hey! I’m right here!”
“We’re not talking to you,” both Izzies snapped, automatic in their response.
Israel’s eyes went wide, remembering himself. He seemed almost surprised.
Stede knew he shouldn’t, but he was not that good at keeping his mouth shut.
“Maybe you’re the bad influence,” Stede mumbled to himself, loud enough for Izzy to hear. ”He was much nicer when he was away from you.”
Israel blushed, his ears going red, and Stede felt his whole body react to it, his fingers itching to grasp his hair again. God almighty. He was a pervert.
“You mean when you were fucking his mouth? Are you fucking proud of yourself?”
“He offered it?” Stede tried to defend himself, but lost his certainty through it, the sentence turning into a question without his control.
“What’s the problem?” Israel murmured, still looking peeved at this entire conversation. His feet dangled as he sat on a barrel, and he hit his heel against it in a self-soothing motion.
“The fucking problem,” Izzy said, throwing his head back so the hair would leave his eyes, “is that you don’t need to— you shouldn’t— Argh.”
“So eloquent,” Stede murmured.
Izzy gave him a death stare over his cup of tea, but what really made Stede regret his words was the frown on Israel’s forehead. Stede let down his guard - something was clearly bothering Izzy.
“What is the problem?” Israel said, his voice taking on an insistent edge.
Izzy’s eyes moved from Stede to his younger version, considering.
And Stede really didn’t know what was the problem. Israel had seemed eager enough— still was, if the way he was eyeing him from time to time was anything to go off from. Sure, the lad was young, but he was grown enough to make his own choices.
The silence stretched for so long that Stede was about to get up and leave, but Izzy’s face settled in resolve.
“The problem is you start doing— this,” he waved his hand on the air, and Stede wasn’t quite sure what this meant, and suddenly he wished he had left, because he was clearly out of his depths in this conversation that seemed to be about much more than what he and Israel had done in the cabin. “And it feels fun, and you feel— proud, powerful even. But eventually— you’re going to want to stop. And you won’t be able to because—"
Izzy stopped talking, choking on his words. With something akin to horror, Stede realized the man had tears in his eyes.
"Because what?" Israel asked, his voice solemn, eyes focused on his older self, both of them forgetting Stede completely.
Stede held his breath, afraid that if he made any noise, this— Izzy opening up, not necessarily to him but close enough for him to hear – would shatter.
"Because you fucking asked for it," Izzy snarled, and the self-hatred in his voice shook Stede to his core.
Stede heard stories growing up – this sort of things are as insidious in fancy boarding schools as they were in pirate ships and as they were anywhere else, truly. But for some reason he had never thought someone like Izzy would have gone through it – which, he realized then, a frown on his forehead, was perhaps part of the problem.
Israel shrinked in himself at the viciousness in Izzy’s voice. “I didn’t ask for it,” he whispered, voice small and fragile, but still that stubbornness shone through, albeit a bit timid. “I bet you didn’t too.”
Izzy shook his head, his eyes glistening with tears as he refused the words that absolved him of blame.
“No one—” Stede started, a bit insecure, but he pushed through his fear of getting a bite from Izzy to say it, because it needed to be said, because it was clear the older man would not listen to himself. “No one asks for it, Izzy.”
Izzy replied with a wet snort.
“I mean it!” Stede pushed on, and was once again lost at how his privilege in life left him flumbing for the right thing to say. This time, though, no amount of grace and finesse would get him out of this situation. He felt a deep need to get Izzy to understand that it was not his fault, that it had never been – regardless of what happened.
“What if Israel changed his mind?” Izzy asked, his lips trembling, his chin set in determination to prove them wrong, to prove that somehow, he was to blame for everything bad that happened to him. “What if he wanted to— to stop?”
His voice broke on the last word. As if it was inconceivable.
“Then I would stop,” Stede replied, his voice taking a softer tone.
Izzy whimpered, then stared at him as if daring Stede to mock him, knowing full well the price of showing his feelings, and Stede’s heart broke all over for this man and his young self, and just how alike they were, despite everything.
“Captain Bonnet isn’t… him,” Israel whispered, and him felt capitalized – like God, or Satan, Stede wasn’t sure.
Before any of them could react to that, they were interrupted by a bundle of black curls and bony elbows, tackling Israel into a hug that screamed of relief and youth.
Eddie held tight onto Israel, and both Stede and Izzy watched as the tension leaked from the young man’s body and he relaxed into his to-be captain’s hug.
“What the fuck—” Israel said, and although he was trying for a frown, he didn’t seem half as peeved as he wanted to sound.
Eddie laughed then, bright and beautiful, and Stede looked over his shoulder to the older version of the boy in front of him. Edward didn’t look as happy as his counterpart, his eyes lined with worry as he looked at his First Mate.
Stede bumped his hand against his, their fingers brushed, and Edward smiled at him, small but soft.
“Everything alright, Ed?” Stede whispered, intertwining their fingers. Ed squeezed them in gratitude.
“Yeah, just—”
“He’s dead, Iz, he’s fucking dust, he can’t fucking touch you ever again—” Eddie was saying, holding Israel’s face in his hands, tear-filled eyes as he delved into some sort of babbling that contained too many swear words to count.
“He’s dead?” Israel asked with a whisper, eyes widening in surprise.
“He’s part of Davy Jones’ crew now, Iz,” Edward confirmed, and Israel let out a sound that was half sob, half laughter, and he smiled too, and then the two boys were kissing, not a bone of shame in their bodies as they held each other, and Izzy seemed almost frozen, his mouth slightly open as he looked from Edward to Eddie and then back again.
Despite popular belief, Stede wasn’t stupid so he had an inkling of who he was, but he still wasn’t sure.
“Hm, who’s ‘he’?”
“I’ll tell you later, mate,” Edward murmured, and that would have to be enough for now. “I need to talk to Iz.”
“Ah, yes. Well, we were having a very— uh, touching conversation, where should we go?”
Edward looked at him and by the way his eyebrows lifted, Stede knew he wouldn’t like what he was about to say.
“I need to— talk to Iz, just me and him.”
“Oh,” Stede said, and tried his best to not sound jaded.
His best wasn’t good enough.
“This is why I had to distract him for real,” Israel said, his head against Eddie’s chest, arching one eyebrow in the perfect signal of ‘I told you so’. Stede bristled. What was that supposed to mean?
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” both Eddie and Israel said at the same time, and Stede was about to argue, but then Edward snickered.
Ed had been in such a bad mood in the last couple weeks, brooding over his younger self’s presence, that to see him amused at them was balm enough for Stede.
“Well, then, I will… Wait. Here then. On my own.”
“We’ll keep you company, cap’”, Eddie said with a smile, and something had definitely happened between the two Edwards, because they both seemed to be in a much better mood than before, especially considering all the— excitement of today.
“Iz?” Ed asked, his eyes doing that thing where he looked like a baby deer. “You wanna go talk to me?”
Izzy got up, letting the blanket around his shoulders fall to the floor.
“‘Sort of stupid question is that?” Izzy grumbled, walking towards the captain’s cabin, which was really experiencing an uptick in the ‘difficult and private conversations’ it experienced today.
Edward looked at Stede then, as if waiting for him to say something.
“I’ll be fine, Ed” Stede waved him off, not wanting to prove the two little rascals right on… whatever they thought they were right on.
Although he was curious as to what Ed and Izzy had to talk about that he couldn’t be together for, another part of him felt he owed it to Izzy – after he had fallen off the ship because of what Stede and Israel had done, yes, but also after he saw the man struggling to keep himself together as he voiced his old traumas out loud.
It wasn’t pity, or even newfound respect. It was just— seeing Izzy as a person, for once. A person who had been part of Edward’s life for much longer than he had. A person who had been shunned to the side the second Stede showed up. A person who clearly, deeply loved – or had loved, if the way the two kids acted around each other was any indication – Edward.
And who had been – was still? – deeply loved back.
Stede knew, from their talks and their moments together, that he had a place of importance in Edward’s life.
But maybe— it wouldn’t be quite so bad to share it with a short, bad-tempered, insufferably loyal First Mate, too.
–
In the scheme of things, this was not the worst day in Izzy’s life, but it was getting there.
He figured that eventually, seeing Eddie and Israel so— goddamn in love with each other wouldn’t hurt like a gunshot, but today was not the day, not after his Edward had tossed him overboard after their failed attempt at a heart to heart.
Izzy walked inside the captains’ cabin and sat down on the stupid fancy couch before Edward even gave him permission to. His entire body ached from the impromptu swimming session he took, the ocean waves making him more exhausted than he expected.
“How are you feeling?” Edward asked, and Izzy hated how foreign those words sounded on his lips.
“Like I’ll never be warm again,” he snapped in response, and regretted it a second later from the wounded look Edward gave him. Izzy sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine, Ed. Just— don’t look at me like that.”
Except he wasn’t fine. He was raw, exposed. He didn’t trust himself to keep quiet, or to say the right things. Fuck. He had just cried in front of Bonnet, of all people.
“Izzy, I want to—”
“Don’t,” Izzy closed his eyes. He would break if Edward apologized.
“I pushed you off the ship, mate. You could have died.”
“I’m not that fragile.”
“I’m not saying you are, I’m just— I don’t want to hurt you.”
A little late for that.
“I’m not leaving even if you do. Unless—” Izzy wet his lips, working through the words. “Unless you want me to?”
“No! Fuck no, I don’t— That’s the whole fucking point, Iz. You shouldn’t— You don’t need to hurt to stay.”
Edward, teaching Bonnet how to fight.
Edward, going to parties with Bonnet, asking Izzy for help to doll himself up.
Edward, smiling— laughing, enjoying life with Bonnet.
Edward, who doesn’t want to die anymore because he has a boyfriend that hasn’t been broken down by other men and trauma and the sheer weight of living as a pirate for the past several decades.
“If you think that’s true, then you really don’t know me,” Izzy got up, ready to leave this cabin, to live his life as a shadow on this ship, watching while Edward lived his blissful life with Bonnet and his younger self was still the apple of Eddie’s eyes.
Israel, who was smart enough to know that evil men existed in the world, smart enough to respect hierarchy and obey orders, but still trusted good men to always be good when it came to his wishes, still laughed and joked with Edward, still was easy to be around.
Edward reached out for him, holding his hand, and Izzy froze.
Edward usually kept him from running with a hand to the shoulder, an icy command. Not this. Grasping at his fingers, the touch subtle and almost loving.
“You see how they are, don’t you, Iz?” Ed asked, his voice low. Izzy felt his chin tremble again, and he wondered just how fucking many times would he cry today.
“Of course I do. I’m not blind,” he mumbled.
“We were like that.”
They were – they had been. Before. Before Izzy had to spend more nights in Hornigold’s cabin than in the hammocks. Before Izzy started fearing being touched – by Hornigold, yes, but then, suddenly, by anyone.
Before the mutiny, before the title of Blackbeard stopped being a child’s game and became real, became protection, became something that kept Izzy safe, that gave Izzy a choice.
Captain Blackbeard and First Mate Hands, each laying in their own room and wondering why the other didn’t reach out for him, when had they forgotten how to talk to each other, when things had gone wrong.
“I can’t be like that,” Izzy murmured. “He’s not—” Tainted, but even Izzy knew that wasn’t true, deep down. “It’s different.”
“I can’t either,” Ed said with a shake of his head. “Because of—”
“Stede?” Izzy asked with a snarl, but it was half hearted, too exhausted for any real spite.
“Yes, but not just that. Because we’re not— them. But fucking hell, mate, we’re still Blackbeard and Izzy Hands, are we not? That has to count for— For something.”
Izzy finally looked at Edward, and was surprised by the earnestness in his eyes. Izzy was hit with the realization of just how much Edward wanted him, and well, fuck, Izzy had been proven wrong, because he was definitely feeling a type of warmth in his chest – the kind he hadn’t in years, decades, maybe. The kind no man should spend so long without.
“What do you want, Ed?” Izzy asked. I will give it, he thought, but wet his lips again. “Do you want me to be your side piece? Your bedwar—”
“Not that,” Edward interrupted instantly. “Never that, Iz, fuck, c’mon. But… something.”
“How about Bonnet?” Izzy asked, and he saw the way Edward’s eyes lit up from it, because a question was not a no, and Jesus fucking Christ, was he actually considering this? “You already have a boyfriend, if that’s what… if that’s what you’re offering.”
It sounded preposterous.
Izzy Hands, a boyfriend.
As if anyone had ever held him to such a high standard.
“Lucius has two,” Edward mumbled, sounding too much like a peeved child for Izzy to resist the chuckle that tore through his chest.
Edward rewarded him with the most beautiful smile – aimed at him. Only at him. Izzy was silent, staring up at the man who was a boy who became a god in Izzy’s eyes, still not quite caught up to the fact that he wanted him, not because there was no other choice, but because he truly, truly wanted him.
“You don’t have to do this, if all you want is—” Izzy said, once more, because he had to be sure.
“It’s not all I want.”
“And I’m— it’s been so long, I don’t know if seeing that stupid twink prancing around has made you think that suddenly, I’m—”
“Izzy…” Edward said, arching one eyebrow, almost playful.
“I just mean— what are you suggesting? That we try again?”
Edward smiled, letting go of his fingers to hold his face, and Izzy couldn’t help but lean into the touch, wondering how long had it been since someone held his face with as much tenderness as now.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Edward took a step closer, brushing his thumb on Izzy’s lower lip. Izzy had forgotten how good it felt to be touched like that by him. “That we try again.”
Once he heard these words, he allowed himself to understand just how deeply he wanted that, too.
“Let’s fucking try again, then,” he murmured, before he placed his hand on Edward’s hair, and pulled his captain down for a kiss.