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“I love you.”
Izzy Hands grimaces at those three words. Really they should only bring him joy, Somehow though all he can think upon is…Has Stede said them to Edward? And what if he hasn’t. If he hasn’t then Izzy’s…well what does that make Izzy.
“You shouldn’t.” Izzy says. “You can’t,” and he trails off. But Ed’s name—even unspoken—still lingers heavy in the air.
Izzy inhales on a breath that’s a lot less steady than the first mate would ever want it t be. Stede waits. He watches Izzy.
There around the crinkles of Stede’s eyes; just there in the softness of his skin brushed by gold ringlets; there tucks away an unreadable expression. He makes to reach out a hand but must think better of it. He shouldn’t have to.
Izzy begins again in a tone that is much gentler than any he’s ever used for anyone before, let alone Bonnet. He’s afraid.
It’s so much easier to look into a man’s soul when his soft underbelly’s exposed and when his grey lungs work overtime to ensure he doesn’t keel over from the weight of being unloved by one man and loved too much by another. Maybe Bonnet knows. Maybe Bonnet cares. Edward won’t. And Izzy will ruin them like he ruined him and Edward.
Below the ocean undulates a rhythmic soothing pattern that’s in such contrast to the drumming of Izzy’s heart in his ear that he won’t be able to stop.
He squeezes his eyes closed and leans his head against the rail of the crow’s nest. He breathes for a beat. God willing that Stede allow him a moment to gather his self. He dares to crack an eye open
The soft glow that’d spread across Stede’s face, pink like peonies fades no. He’s worrying his lip in that oh familiar Stede Bonnet: Gentleman Pirate Manner. It tugs at something beneath Izzy’s breast.
He looks away to seek a sun that’s already set upon the horizon in bursts of yellow-red-oranges that streak across the sky like streamers that go on and on forever. Stede’ not one to remain quiet long. His voice mixes with the sound of the sea.
“You don’t need to say it b—”
“I won’t.” It’s out of Izzy’s mouth before he can stop it. For once in his life he curses his quick tongue.
Won’t sometimes means can’t.
In Izzy’s case it’s almost always the latter. Stede clears his throat a little at Izzy’s interruption. His eyes settle to Izzy’s in a way that feels like—that is—Stede reading him like he’s a book written in a language that only Stede can understand. Izzy half hates it half loves it. Stede loves him and Izzy’s too afraid to love him back.
Suddenly there’s a gentle press of fingers against his hand and Stede dips his head towards Izzy inquiringly. Izzy nods his head once.
Briefly he wonders if Stede would be offended that his hand in Izzy’s reminds him of his mother’s. Only now though…Now that Stede’s got rough-smooth hands. And it’s a thought that’s so faraway from everything else on this strange night, and that’s so tender it makes him almost nauseous with comfort.
Another one of those terrible shaky breaths runs through him. Stede surely notices but doesn’t do anything besides the occasional gentle word and gesture against Izzy’s cheek. That’s so far beyond enough.
Izzy’s not used to having kindness poured down into him.
Stede cups Izzy’s cheek, leaning his forehead against the other man’s. And this…? This may be the end of Israel Hands. Not a sword to the important bits but this tenderness from a man who utterly loves him.
Steve’s thumb slides up and down the side of Izzy’s neck.“Alright darling, alright.” He murmurs.
They both just breathe.
Their breaths stir a world of warmth against each other’s faces.
The sun’s gone out.
Dark lines of navy blue and periwinkles awash the night sky.
A single star glitters way up high.
Stede must sense…something.
He’s gotten so good at that when it comes to Izzy. They’ve both said a lot of the wrong things to eachother.
But more often than not now the right thing keeps tumbling out of their mouths like now when Stede says in the very frank way he is oft to: “You know I don’t really care if you ever say it. Not really.”
He lifts Izzy’s hand and just holds it against his chest for a moment. He strokes it in an absentminded yet genuine manner.
“You shouldn’t say it. Not to me. Not to anyone.” Stede pauses as if unsure of the next words but then he continues in a lower but sure tone. “Not if hurts love.”
Izzy takes in a sharp breath and goes taught. Of course Stede knows. Fuck if he doesn’t always know these days. Stede bows his head and touches his lips to Izzy’s hand. Their warm with the blood just beneath the skin. Izzy shivers. Somewhere in him the desire to respond is pressing.
“It doesn’t…hurt. It doesn’t. Not with you.” He swallows. “But I can’t…Fuck.”
Stede slips a much-wanted arm around Izzy’s shoulder and Izzy presses his face up against Stede’s neck. A hand buries into his pepper grey hair where Stede holds him as close as possible against him.
“I know darling. I know.”
The swell of the sea fades into background noise as do the words shared between the two men in the crows nest. Stede properly gathers a man into his arms who has not been loved enough and holds him for the night in a grip that will not falter.