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Frenchie was sick of almost losing Izzy.
The first few times he almost loses him it shouldn’t matter. It’s not like they’re together when Izzy gets distant around Ed, when he pulls away and becomes a bit of a shadow of who he was. When he limps around in pain and tries to hide it under snarls of anger.
The second time was when Ed shot him in the fucking knee, and watching the blood pool around Izzy’s as he screamed in pain was one of the worst things Frenchie had ever seen.
And then countless times after that.
It was different now. Frenchie and Izzy had shared a kiss, shared a bed, and shared secrets. They had held each other through the nightmares and danced in the moonlight and sung to each other under the stars. It had taken months to convince Izzy that Frenchie genuinely liked him, and then a few more weeks to get Izzy to stop holding himself back to spare Frenchie the pain of it all. They loved each other.
Now Frenchie sat in the captain's cabin, Izzy laying in the bed, his leg strapped to the frame of it. His breathing was shallow and his pulse weak but he was alive, and Roach thought he would be okay.
All Frenchie could do was wait, and hope against all odds that Izzy would come back to him.
***
Izzy was in pain.
Fuck all everything hurt. His entire body was throbbing and the light streaming in the windows by the bed was blinding even to his closed eyes.
Izzy blinked his eyes open with a groan and looked outside. It had to be roughly noon, judging from the sun, and God but Izzy felt gross. He forced himself to sit up and bit his cheek to stop from crying out. But a few moments later Roach strode in anyway, cigarette in mouth and a tray of medical supplies in his hands.
“Oh good you’re awake. Don’t tell Frenchie, but I was beginning to worry.” The man says as he walks over and sits on the bed. He wastes no time pulling the covers back and lifting up his shirt, looking at the wound on his side. He took another long drag of his cigarette and then handed it to Izzy, who promptly put it into his mouth and inhaled long and slow. He felt a little lightheaded from it, the rush of nicotine filling his head.
“Careful little man. You haven’t eaten in a while.”
Izzy rolled his eyes and took another long drag. Roach just shook his head and laughed.
“Well. Am I going to make it?” Izzy asked, voice rougher than it usually was from disuse and the smoke burning in his lungs. Roach shrugged.
“I don’t see why not as long as you don’t do anything stupid. And I don’t think Frenchie has any plans on a raid anytime soon, and even if he did, he wouldn’t let you out of this room.”
Izzy shook his head and took a deep breath, trying to parse the relevant information from the words Roach had spoken as he cleaned the gunshot wound in Izzy’s side. The alcohol stung and then whatever the hell Roach was packing into the wound stung even more, but soon enough Roach was wrapping cloth around his torso, pushing him back into the pillows.
“Frenchie?” Izzy started, and Roach took his cigarette back and nodded.
“Yeah. He’s the captain, at the moment.” Roach said with a shrug, standing up to leave.
Izzy looked around the cabin. He was in the bed, Stedes bed. It still smells vaguely like him, like lavender and gunpowder and sweat.
Frenchie the captain. Izzy wondered why the pirate queen didn’t take the reins. He loved Frenchie, could admit it without being under threat of death, and had even told Frenchie himself. But Frenchie as the captain seemed like a strange choice.
Izzy was almost asleep when the door opened again and Frenchie slid into the room, a tray balanced precariously in one hand. His eyes immediately found Izzy’s, and Izzy got to watch as Frenchies shoulders loosened visibly at seeing Izzy alive.
“You’re awake.” Frenchie breathed as he sat down, putting the tray on the bed beside him and handing Izzy a cup of what looked like broth and smelled like medicine and lemon.
“Seems that way.” Izzy replied, taking a sip. Despite its smell, it tasted fine. It was warm, and that was more important than much else right now.
“I was worried.” Frenchie said quietly, and Izzy looked at him only to find Frenchie looking down at his hands, laced together in his lap. Izzy put a hand over his, prompting Frenchie to look up.
“I’m here.”
“You have got to stop almost dying.” Frenchie said to him, and Izzy laughed.
“It’s not like I’m trying to. What happened to your box?”
“It's full, at the moment. So you have to deal with the full brunt of my worrying.”
“How will I survive that?” Izzy said around a long suffering sigh, but he smiled right after, so Frenchie smiled back and kissed his knuckles.
Frenchie sat by him while he ate, taking the tray away when he was full and turning around so that they could lay shoulder to shoulder. For his part, Izzy put his head on Frenchies shoulder, closing his eyes.
“I heard you’re the captain now.” Izzy said quietly, and Frenchie groaned.
“Yeah. I tried to pass it off to the queen and she said she didn’t want to, she didn’t know us? So I thought, okay,fair enough, and tried to pass it off to Olu. Because people like him, yeah? But he said he also doesn’t want it, and didn't want it the first time. And with Buttons gone, apparently I’m the next best choice until you’re well enough to do it yourself.”
Izzy, having learned how to find important information through Edwards rambling, nodded. And then he turned towards Frenchie sharply as his mind caught up.
“Me?”
Frenchie looked over, “Well. Yeah babe.”
“Why the hell would you want me as captain?”
Frenchie shook his head and laughed as he smiled, like Izzy was being silly.
“Because the crew loves you, and you’re the best of us all? It’s the obvious choice.”
Izzy breathed deeply and thought about it. He thought about them saying he was the best of them all, fighting a smile. His crew. His...friends? His family.
“Never been captain.” He murmured, and Frenchie made a noise that sounded almost wounded, turning his head and kissing Izzy’s forehead.
“Well then. I’ve never been a first mate, not really. We’ll learn together.”
Izzy smiled, “My first mate huh?”
“Well, who else would you want by your side?”
“Roach, Olu, Jaing…” Izzy started, and Frenchie playfully shoved his shoulder, soft enough that it didn’t hurt the bullet wound in his side.
“I’m kidding! I’m joking. I’m glad it's you. Need someone who can talk their way out of shit. God knows I can’t.” Izzy groaned as he turned a little, and Frenchie sat up.
“You feeling any better babe?” He asked, suddenly serious. Izzy nodded.
“I mean. I’m awake. That’s a good sign.”
“Yeah..”
They talked a little while, Izzy getting more tired as time passed. Eventually Frenchie stood up and kissed his forehead, sweeping the hair off his forehead.
“Goodnight Captain.” He whispered before he left, letting Izzy get more much needed rest.
The next time Izzy woke up it was to Frenchie softly playing a guitar from the settee. It wasn’t anything specific, just random notes that sort of sounded like a song if you tried hard enough. He let it lull him into a gentle awakeness, far different from the way he usually sat up immediately and threw himself out of bed.
Of course he couldn’t throw himself out of bed, not without hurting himself, but it was what he was used to. What was expected of him for all the years he had served as first mate. Of course, with Frenchie as captain at the moment, Izzy suspected that his duty would be to stay in bed at all costs until he was healed again.
“I know you’re awake.” Frenchie murmured as he strummed the guitar strings and then placed his hands on them to silence them. Izzy opened his eyes and shrugged.
“How?”
“I’ve been listening to your breathing. A bit creepy I know, but you almost fucking died, so I’ve been taking comfort where I can get it.”
“Get over here Frenchie.” Izzy said, scooting over to give him space. Frenchie came over, taking off his vest and folding his lanky body into the space beside Izzy, his head on his chest and his hand splayed across the bandage on his torso. Izzy flinched, and Frenchie went to pull away but Izzy just held his hand so he couldn’t leave.
“Gonna have to make Roach change that soon.”
“Just lay here with me a minute Frenchie.”
“Of course.”
Frenchie made good on his word, and they had started to doze off when Roach and Auntie came bustling into the room, both of them making noises of disdain.
“Oi, get off my patient!”
“He isn’t dead yet, go do something useful.” Auntie said, and Frenchie sat up quickly, limbs flailing a bit as he righted himself. With a powerful eye roll and a kiss on Izzy’s forehead he swept out of the room, taking his guitar as he went. Izzy pushed himself to sit up further, letting Roach come and take a look at his wounds.
“You look better. Good thing too, I don’t know how much more of that ones worrying I can take.”
“Worse than a mother, he is.”
Izzy looked between Roach and Auntie, and could feel his eyebrows raise at the way they seemed to already be finishing each other's sentences. God Bonnet's crew seemed to just draw in a certain type of people. Even if Auntie was one of the more capable of the bunch, she was still just as silly as the rest. He took a moment to wonder if that meant he was just as silly as the rest of them, and concluded that he had to be, to have been around Edward for so long.
“Yes well, we’re… something.” Izzy said lamely, knowing that everyone already knew. Knew before Izzy did, before Frenchie even stammered out his confession, before Izzy answered the only way he knew how- by showing him how much he returned the affection. With kisses that were full of his own confession.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by Roach clearing his throat.
“Oh we know. The walls of this ship are thin, and your voice is specific.”
“Fuck off.”
Roach smiled around his cigarette as he prepared his bandages, setting up the things he would need to tend the bullet wound in his side.
“No, I think it's sweet. You two are nice to each other.”
Izzy scoffed as Roach pressed a cloth to his side, and then the sting quickly made it turn into a hiss.
“Frenchie is nice to everyone.”
“Ah, but you aren't.” Roach replied, and Izzy couldn’t argue with that. He hadn’t needed to be nice. Not for a long time. His reputation meant that for the most part his name alone would part crowds. And if not that, his associates would do the rest. Blackbeards name whispered in a crowd was enough to get most sane people to run for the hills.
Thing was, this entire crew was insane, making it the perfect place for Edward. Maybe not for Blackbeard, but that’s not what he needed now. Blackbeard was just a myth, at this point. And Izzy was going to make it his job to keep that legend going as whispers in dark alleys until it no longer kept his crew safe.
His crew.
“Frenchie said that you guys want me to be the captain?”
Roach looked up from where he was squinting at the hole in Izzy’s side, making a face that somehow said yes and no at the same time.
“Eh. You’re the best pirate we have here. Even the Queen agrees.”
“She’s a better captain though.” Izzy said. He knew of Jaing. She was powerful, a slick talker, and a ruthless fighter. He would have been honored to be her first mate.
Auntie made a noise of distaste.
“She doesn’t want it. She lost everything to that fucker Ricky. All she wants now is to kill him. She has no interest in rebuilding the empire. We’re only here because despite evidence to the contrary, you guys are… decent pirates. Soft, but decent.”
Izzy laughed, surprising himself. Auntie looked surprised too but she quickly covered it with a small smile.
“Yeah, this lot is a soft bunch. No one is doing it like them. I don’t know how they all lived this long but fuck, they have.” Izzy took the cigarette from Roach and took a long puff. “I’m not going to question it. Maybe they have protection.”
“Ah. So the witch still watches over you?”
Izzy looked at Auntie sharply, “What?”
“He may have looked like merely a man but he was much more than that.”
Roach looked at Izzy then, and shrugged.
“Do you mean buttons? Nah, he fucked off. I think Blackbeard killed him, but he swears up and down that the man turned into a bird.” Roach said, taking the cigarette back and sticking it in his mouth before packing up his things. He disappeared out of the room with something vague about making dinner, leaving Izzy with Auntie.
“Did he turn into a bird? Really?” Auntie asked Izzy, her hands warm on his arm. Izzy pulled away gently.
“I wasn’t there. But I haven’t seen Buttons and I’d like to think that Edward wouldn’t kill the man. So. Sure.”
Auntie made a noise high in her throat and then crossed herself, nodding once and leaving the room.
“Then his crew is blessed. Long may he watch over us.”
Izzy watched her go, looking almost teary eyed as she rambled about the witch of the ocean, and Izzy just shook his head and laughed.
“Bunch of weird fucks, this lot.”
~Two months later~
Izzy felt weird, being in the captain's quarters and having it be (his) quarters. He had been there since he was shot but it wasn’t until now that he really felt like it was his space, not that he was just borrowing it.
Frenchie lay on his chest, carefully running his fingertips across the scar there. Izzy almost wanted to tell him to stop looking at it, it felt weird to draw so much attention to it, but Frenchie never felt judgemental about it. Rather, he felt almost reverent. It was too much sometimes, to have the younger man treat him with the kind of care he had sort of given up on receiving after all the years sailing with Blackbeard.
But Blackbeard was just a whisper in the shadows now. And Izzy was allowed to have whatever softness he wanted.
*
Whenever Izzy’s chest was exposed, Frenchie was drawn to it immediately. The scar that ran across his abdomen, the scars similar to his own on his back… They were both lucky to be alive, and Frenchie wasn’t about to lose him again.
It had been a few weeks since Izzy had become captain officially. He was still wounded, his side an angry splotch of not quite healed flesh that Frenchie tended to each night before they would settle into a bed that smelled like them now, like leather and salt and the oil Frenchie would use on his hair. They had swung by the little cove where Stede and Ed were staying to drop them off some supplies and to just have a bit of a ‘vacation’.
Stede was glad to see the Revenge in such good shape and after a couple of days they were off again with fresh food and a few fancy soaps and clothing items from Stede. Izzy swore up and down that he didn’t need any of it, that he was just fine with the things he had always had, but Frenchie wasn’t about to pass up on the opportunity for a hot bath. So he heated up the water and filled the tub with it, and when it was nice and steamy, he made sure they were sailing good, left Auntie to watch the deck, and dragged Izzy into the captain's quarters, locking the door.
“What the fuck Frenchie?” Izzy asked, but it wasn’t harsh. There was almost a laugh in his voice as he let Frenchie pull him into the en suite, closing that door too, leaving them only in the light of the lanterns Frenchie had set up in the room earlier.
“Treating you to some of Stedes fancy land soaps”
“Thought I told you I didn’t need any of that shit.”
“Yeah, but I wanted some, thank you. Is it so wrong for me to want to share my spoils with my Captain?”
Izzy rolled his eyes, “Stole them did you?”
“Would that make you feel better about using them?”
“Maybe.”
“What else can I do to please you, Captain?” Frenchie asked, and Izzy huffed a laugh and began to unbutton his vest.
“Stay and join me.”
“Is that an order?” Frenchie asked, and Izzy smiled.
“Does it need to be?”
Frenchie answered him with a kiss, his hands replacing Izzy’s where they had been removing his shirt from his leathers. It took a bit longer than it would have taken just Izzy to remove all of his clothing, but they did it, and then they turned to do the same to Frenchie’s clothes. Izzy’s glove was the last thing to come off. Frenchie pulled it off slowly, setting it on top of the little pile of clothing they had made, held down by Izzy’s hoof.
With a little help from Frenchie Izzy slid into the water and visibly relaxed, a sigh escaping his mouth as he sank lower in. Frenchie slid in behind him after some tricky maneuvering, and they settled in together at last, hot water easing away the aches of days of hard work and worry.
“Thank you.” Izzy said after a while. Frenchie hummed, dragging a warm hand across Izzy’s shoulders. “For all this.”
Frenchie kissed Izzy’s shoulder, curling himself around Izzy as best he could.
“You don’t have to thank me for loving you.” Frenchie whispered against Izzy’s neck, and he felt Izzy tighten his hold on his calf just a little bit.
“I feel like I do.” He said after a minute, looking down at the water. Frenchie pressed a kiss just behind his ear, the hair damp and curling. Izzy tilted his head just a little, to give Frenchie better access.
“Well then, thank you.”
“What for?”
Frenchie hooked his chin over Izzy’s shoulder and tried to see his face as he spoke.
“For loving me.” Frenchie said quietly. Izzy smiled.
“God help me, I do. Said I wasn’t going to make that fucking mistake again. I never learn, I guess.”
“Thank God for that.” Frenchie said as he reached out of the tub to get the soap bar that Stede had given him the day before, and one of the nice towels that Stede had insisted on them taking.
Ed had spoken to Izzy off to the side while Stede caught up with the crew. They didn’t seem upset, Ed checking over the wound on Izzy’s side, and when they had boarded the ship Izzy seemed okay. Frenchie had been worried. He had forgiven Ed, mostly, for what he did when he was the Kraken. But he still didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone for any length of time with Izzy.
Lucky for Frenchie, it was his turn to be alone with Izzy. Or as alone as one could be on a pirate ship.
“You've been putting soap on that towel for a full minute, French. I think it's good.”
Frenchie snapped out of his thoughts and saw that he had indeed put entirely too much soap on the towel. Oh well.
“Sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”
Izzy turned to him and raised his eyebrows.
“Your mind is elsewhere while we’re naked in a bathtub together?”
Frenchie laughed, “Not like that. It’s still you. Just a different you.”
Izzy smiled, leaning into it when Frenchie began to lather his shoulders and neck.
“Will you let me take care of you tonight?” Frenchie asked Izzy quietly as he continued softly washing the day off of Izzy’s skin. Izzy grunted.
“What are you doing right now?” He asked. His voice wasn’t harsh, curious if anything. Frenchie leaned in and kissed just behind Izzy’s ear.
“I meant in a different way love.”
Being this close to Izzy meant that Frenchie got to feel the tiny shiver that went through him at the words, at the breath that ghosted over the shell of his ear, cool from the water on his neck.
“Sure.” Izzy replied, and Frenchie could hear the slight tremor in his voice. He aimed to take that away before the night was over. He hoped to make Izzy *sing*. Wanted to show Izzy just how much he cared for him, and more than anything wanted to feel his body, to feel that he was still here and alive.
He had gotten so close to losing him. He meant to show him just how grateful he was that he didn’t.
“Are you hungry? Frenchie asked Izzy quietly, wrapping his arms around him. Izzy hummed.
“I could eat.”
“I’ll get Roach to fix us something.”
Izzy turned to him, watching him carefully get out of the bath. Before he could get far at all Izzy reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him down just hard enough that Frenchie got the hint, but not hard enough that it would knock him off balance.
“Don’t be too long.” Izzy said, quiet in that way he got when he was being vulnerable and hated it. Frenchie smiled and kissed him, long and deep. When he pulled away he pressed their foreheads together and chuckled softly to himself.
“You just stay here in the hot water, okay?”
Izzy nodded at him, already looking half dazed, and Frenchie took that as his cue to go get the food and make the room just a little bit more comfortable. After all. He wanted to please his captain.
***
Izzy didn’t know what Frenchie had in mind for him as he finally dragged himself out of the bathtub. The water had started to get cold, and Izzy was sick of being wet anyway. The towel left behind for him was softer than he was used to, must have come from Stede, and smelled faintly floral. Izzy allowed himself to breath it in, reminding himself that he was the fucking captain, he was allowed to indulge in a bath and nice towels every now and again. If he learned nothing else from being around Bonnets crew, *his crew*, it was that you weren’t forbidden from small joys just because you were a pirate.
Izzy could learn to love the softer things, so long as they stayed alive and it was his crew giving them to him.
He traded the towel for a black dressing gown that Stede had made for him. The collar had little silver sparrows on it, and the rest of the design was just barely visible, a black on black pattern that quite frankly hurt Izzy’s eyes if he looked at it too long, but the thing had pockets and was warm and soft and most importantly, had a few extra pockets hidden inside for daggers. The man was a posh twat but he knew how to give gifts, if nothing else. Though Izzy was sure that Edward had something to do with the choice of the hidden dagger pockets.
Using a crutch he managed to make it to the settee in the larger room, taking it all in. There were candles lit, and the fireplace was lit with a modest flame that filled the room with the smell of cedar. The sound of the waves hitting the side of the boat, the gentle rocking of a calm sea, was like music to Izzy, and he closed his eyes and let himself be lulled by it while he waited for Frenchie to return.
He must have dozed off because he jumped when the door swung open a little violently. Frenchie came bustling in, his hands full of what looked to be a tray of food and a bottle of whiskey, two glasses balanced precariously on his arm. In his mouth was a bag tied off, looked heavy, and strapped to his back was his guitar.
Izzy made to try and help, but Frenchie shot him a glare and made a noise that told Izzy to sit back down. So he did, and soon enough Frenchie was spreading the contents he carried across the table in front of them, taking the bag out of his mouth last and rubbing his jaw a little from the strain of it.
“I would have helped you get in here babe.” Frenchie said, and Izzy rolled his eyes.
“I’m crippled not dead. I can get around by myself.”
“Iz, love. No shit. That isn’t the point though, is it?”
Before Izzy could answer Frenchie was sitting down beside him, but not on the chair. He sat on the rug on the floor, legs spread out and his head resting on Izzy’s thigh.
“Frenchie?”
“Hush.” He said as an answer, and handed Izzy his plate. Izzy took it gratefully, realizing as he smelled the food that he was actually a lot hungrier than he thought.
It was soup, Roach was on a kick and trying to perfect it. Izzy couldn’t care less, because whatever the man cooked was delicious and a hell of a lot better than what Izzy was used to. He ate while Frenchie strummed on his lute, nothing specific, just aimless little chord progressions.
“Are you not going to eat?” Izzy asked, and Frenchie shrugged.
“I ate earlier, not really hungry now.”
“Frenchie.”
“I’m fine babe.”
Izzy frowned, looking at his own mostly empty bowl of food. He was still a little hungry, but there was desert on the table and it looked delicious and he knew damn well Frenchie hadn’t eaten much of anything at all.
“I can’t finish this, you eat it.” Izzy said, thrusting the bowl down towards Frenchie. Frenchie laughed.
“Yeah babe? That old trick?”
Izzy shrugged and moved on to dessert. “If you don’t eat it, I’ll tell Roach, and he’ll be offended.”
Frenchie rolled his eyes but dug in anyway, “God forbid we offend the cook.”
“The cook is the one you want to offend the least. Especially when he’s also the doctor.”
That got Frenchie to stop complaining so much and actually sit down to eat. The relative silence of the ship was calming to Izzy, but he knew that it was making Frenchie anxious by the way he was tapping his feet to nothing. Izzy took a closer look at Frenchie. At the way his shoulders were curled in on himself, at how he was specifically facing away from Izzy as he ate.
“Is there something wrong?” Izzy asked mid bite, question muffled through the cake he was eating. Frenchie shook his head, putting his now empty bowl down.
“Something wrong? Nah babe, I’m great, peachy keen.”
That made Izzy even more worried. Frenchie was one of those people who usually meant the opposite if he acted like this about something. The more cheery he sounded the worse it usually was. But it wouldn’t do any good to push. Izzy knew that better than anyone.
“You don’t want any cake?” Izzy asked quietly. Finally, Frenchie turned around, smiling up at Izzy sheepishly.
“Nah. I ate like three slices earlier while I was waiting for the soup to be done.”
Izzy laughed, “So that’s why you’re not hungry huh?”
Frenchie nodded.
“What are you doing down there anyway?” Izzy asked him, nudging him with his leg. Frenchie kissed his bare thigh, shrugging.
“I don’t know.”
Izzy leaned forward and put the empty cake plate on the table, wiping his hands on one of the napkins that was on the tray and opening his arms to Frenchie.
“Well come here.” He said, and Frenchie quickly obliged, standing up and straddling Izzy’s legs and resting his head on his shoulder. Izzy was cocooned, body wrapped up in miles of Frenchies lanky arms and legs. He felt himself sinking away from the world, too busy feeling the warmth of Frenchies body on his.
“What’s all this about then?” Izzy asked him, pressing a kiss to the space where his shoulder became his neck. His shirts were always just a little too big or cut a little too low, and in the privacy of what was now his quarters, Izzy would be damned if he was going to resist the urge to touch the skin there.
“I just wanted to take care of you.” Frenchie said, hugging him a little tighter and kissing his temple. Izzy hummed.
“This feels like more than that.”
Frenchie pulled back. “Can’t a man want to take care of his captain?”
“Try again. I’m not your captain here.” Izzy said softly, trailing his fingers along Frenchies jaw. That was the sort of dynamic he had with Blackbeard for so long. Izzy didn’t want that here. He didn’t want Frenchie to feel like he had to serve him. They were lovers. Frenchie wasn’t his to control, not like that.
Frenchie smiled softly, “Can’t a man want to take care of his boyfriend.”
I
zzy smiled at that, even though boyfriend felt a little weird for what they had. But there was no better word for it, not really, nothing that could encompass the bond they had. Izzy didn’t answer Frenchie, instead pulling him down into a kiss that started soft, the taste of their shared dinner on their lips. Frenchie ran his fingers through Izzy’s still damp hair, pushing the strands away from his face and tucking them behind his ears.
“Your hair’s gotten long.” Frenchie murmured against his mouth, and Izzy shrugged.
“Hasn’t really been a priority.”
“I like it. It’s pretty.”
Izzy scoffed, “I’m not pretty.”
“You are!” Frenchie replied, “you are and I won’t have you deny it. You’re lovely Izzy Hands. Don’t you argue with me.”
Izzy blinked a few times, taking in what he was saying to him. He felt his face heat, unused to compliments that were so gentle. He swallowed and nodded, pressing his forehead to Frenchies.
“Okay.”
“Good.” Frenchie replied, and then he was kissing Izzy again, but it wasn’t soft anymore. There was a hint of desperation to it, to the way Frenchie pushed his calloused hands into the collar of Izzy’s robe, the way he pulled him closer and made small noises into his mouth. Izzy knew something was wrong, but if Frenchie wanted to hide it away, if this is what Frenchie needed? Izzy could give him that. Izzy could give him that in spades.
***
Frenchie tried to hide how he felt, how Izzy’s almost death reminded him that they all had a foot halfway in the grave at any moment. But he knew that Izzy saw through it, because Izzy knew him better than anyone aside from maybe Wee John on the ship, and that meant not being able to hide behind his smiles and jokes.
At some point between him being captain and giving the title over to Izzy, Frenchie had decided that the only way to counteract the gnawing hole in his chest was to remind himself that Izzy was still here. That he was alive and well, and that he was still the same Izzy he had fallen for during the days of the Kraken. A little bit softer, sure, but it was still his Izzy. The fiercely protective man that loved with everything he had once he decided you were worth it.
And Frenchie, used to more casual flings, easy affection to keep away the loneliness of the sea, hadn’t been ready for the full force of what that love meant when he felt it. But fuck if he wasn’t ready now. He didn’t know how to express it in words. The words I love you just didn't feel like enough, didn't cover the enormity of it. He hadn’t written an entire song about it yet. But there were other ways to show that love. Through actions and touch and protection.
So tonight, Frenchie had made it his personal goal to make sure Izzy knew just how much he was loved, even if it shattered Frenchie apart in the process.
They had made it to the bed nook through some trial and error, both of them stumbling over their feet with Frenchie half carrying the smaller man. Izzy got frustrated with the robe, dropping it halfway between the settee and the curtain that gave them mock privacy. Frenchie had lost his shoes and his vest, his shirt unbuttoned. Izzy pushed that off of his shoulders and on to the ground before Frenchie could sit down on the bed itself, his calloused hands sliding over his shoulders and to his back, pulling Frenchie flush with his body as they swayed with the ship, swayed with the force of how hard their kisses had become.
Frenchie turned them and gently pushed Izzy to the bed, looking over him for a moment. Looking over the scars that covered his body, the still healing bullet wound, the bullet graze on his forehead. The stump where his leg used to be, the flesh healing as well as could be expected on a ship after how he had lost it.
Izzy just let Frenchie look, long ago letting go of the urge to hide himself. He knew how Frenchie felt about his body, how Frenchie looked at all the scars as a testament to just how powerful he was. And Izzy was glad, because he got to see the way the blush on his face went down his neck, the way his breath made his chest rise and fall. How his eyes were wide and pupils blown as he watched while Frenchie removed the rest of his clothes, hardly paying attention to what he was doing and almost face planting on the bed because of it. Izzy just laughed and easily caught him, turning so that they were both lying on the bed.
“You should pay attention to what you're doing.” Izzy remarked quietly.
“I’m paying attention to you.”
Izzy smiled and shook his head.
“Twat.” whispered lovingly, pulling Frenchie in for a kiss that was slower but no less deep for it.
Frenchie knew that they couldn’t do much, Izzy was still healing and he didn’t want to mess up that process just to get laid. But he could take care of Izzy. And take care of him he did. Laid him out on the bed with plenty of pillows to keep him comfy and warm.
“What are you doing?” Izzy said, looking up at Frenchie with hooded eyes. Frenchie trailed his hands along Izzy’s stomach, down along his hips and to the soft skin of his thighs. He didn’t touch his cock yet, just skimmed by it before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Izzy’s stomach, the trail of hair that led down his body, each of his hip bones in turn.
“Frenchie…” Izzy whispered, gently pressing his fingers into Frenchies hair.
“I’ve got you.” Frenchie said, and then he took Izzy into his mouth and revealed in the groan that it elicited. In the way Izzy seemed to press into him without a choice in it, hands fisting in the covers as he tried to stay still. Frenchie didn’t care if he stayed still. Didn’t care if he laid down and took what Frenchie gave him or used Frenchie, just as long as Frenchie got to feel his skin against his. Taste the salt of his skin, tainted by the soap that they had just used. Hear the hitch in his breath as Frenchie swirled his tongue just so.
“Frenchie, come here.” Izzy said, voice even more hoarse than usual, thick with desire. Frenchie pulled off of his dick with a pop, making Izzy roll his eyes.
“I’m perfectly comfortable right here.” Frenchie remarked, only for Izzy to grab his arms and pull him up.
“I know what you’re doing.” Izzy said, turning them on to their sides. Frenchie gasped, never quite used to the way Izzy could throw him around.
“What?” Frenchie said.
“I didn’t want to lose you either, Frenchie.” Izzy said, pressing their foreheads together, “I know what you’re doing. I’m right here.”
Frenchie blinked away tears, hating the way Izzy saw through him.
“I love you.” Izzy said softly, “I’m right here.”
“Fuck.” Frenchie pulled Izzy closer and buried his face in the crook of his shoulder. “I love you dammit. Fuck.”
Izzy chuckled and kissed Frenchie softly on the corner of his mouth, letting him keep his face turned towards the pillows for now.
“What do you need?” He asked, rubbing their faces together like an overgrown cat. Frenchie laughed a little, turning towards Izzy and putting his hand on the older man's cheek.
“You. I just need you.”
"You have me.”
“I want to feel you. I want to show you how beautiful I think you are.”
Izzy closed his eyes, still unused to Frenchies' easy compliments. Unused to love being soft instead of feeling like drowning.
“Okay.”
Frenchie smiled at him and then pushed his hair behind his ear, kissing the skin on his cheek and then trailing down to his jaw and neck. It had lost the desperate edge that it had before, and in its place was a sweetness that would usually have Izzy fleeing from it. But this was Frenchie.
He was allowed nice things. And Frenchie was the nicest thing he had.
So Izzy closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift, his only tether to the world the press of Frenchies lips to his skin, the warmth of his hands as they skimmed over his chest and stomach. Their legs, tangled together on the bed, Frenchie all but wrapped around Izzy. He was relaxed in a way he didn’t allow himself to be, the residual warmth of the bath and the warmth from Frenchies body blending together until Izzy felt like he was drifting. He could fall asleep if not for the way every now and again Frenchie would do something that brought him back to the surface, the sharp pleasure of it keeping him within his body.
It made Izzy want to be romantic. For someone as terrified of witches as Frenchie, he himself was a little bit magic.
Izzy was so lost in it, in the soft kisses and the feeling of Frenchie pressing him into the bed, moving in a way that couldn’t really be called sexual. It was some instinct that kept them both trying to get closer, but they couldn’t get any closer unless they crawled into each other's skin. He knew he would crawl into the cavern of Frenchies heart if he could, and was sure that Frenchie would probably say the same.
Izzy was so lost in his rumination about how he had never felt so at peace in a relationship that he hardly noticed his orgasm cresting until it had come, and even then it was a gentle thing. A rising of heat and a fall of breathless moans against Frenchies lips.
Frenchie pulled away, but Izzy dragged him right back, beginning to reach between them so that he could return the favor, but Frenchie just grabbed his hand and pulled it away. Izzy would deny that he had pouted, but he knew that was the only word for it.
“I don’t need it babe. This was about you.”
“What if I need it?” Izzy countered, to which Frenchie rolled his eyes and dragged Izzy’s hand down to where their spend was mixed on Izzy’s stomach.
“And I just took a bath.” Izzy said as if put out, but Frenchie just shrugged.
“Could always take another.”
“Are you going to go find Wee John and Black Pete and tell them to heat up *another* round of water.
“No”
“Guess we’ll just have to settle for being sticky.”
“Just use the towel. It doesn’t matter.”
Frenchie got up and retrieved one from the en-suite, gently wiping them both off. When he was done he tossed it to the side, sliding into bed with Izzy. Izzy wasted no time in pulling him so that he was mostly on top of him, the weight of Frenchie pressing down on him grounding. After a few moments of silence, Frenchie nuzzled into the space between Izzy's shoulder and neck, pressing a soft kiss there.
“I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispered. Izzy traced his fingers up and down Frenchies spine, feeling every knot, all the bones that held him together.
“You got a few more years with me I reckon.” Izzy said, kissing Frenchies forehead. Frenchie softly bit Izzy's neck.
“I'm gonna lose my mind without you.”
“Nah. You're young. You'll be fine.”
“No.”
Izzy raised his eyebrows “No?”
“No.” Frenchie said again, hugging Izzy tighter. Izzy just smiled, pulling the covers higher over the two of them and wrapping his arms around Frenchie. After a moment Izzy cleared his throat.
“Do you feel better?” He asked quietly. Frenchie wiggled as if to get closer.
“I always feel better with you.” He said. Izzy blinked away the tears that had risen to his eyes, laying back and holding his love tight, feeling as if it was piecing him back together. Wondering if it was piecing Frenchie back together too.
“Yeah.” Izzy whispered. He was hurting, and he still had a long way to go, but right here in this room with Frenchie, he wasn't worried about it. For the first time in a very long time, Izzy wasn't worried about what tomorrow would bring. It would come regardless, and he would face it, with his first mate and lover beside him, with the crew to watch his back.