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This is how it starts.
Izzy starts training Stede Bonnet, every Tuesday and Thursday morning before sunrise. They meet at the doorway to the galley and move in silence to the main deck.
"Can you actually go easy on me this time?" Stede asks, swinging his rapier in a loose figure eight, testing it's weight and balance. He's wearing the plainest, darkest clothes he owns, a black cotton shirt and dark blue, tight fitting trousers. No cravats, no bright colors, no ridiculous frilly sleeves or buttons. Izzy feels his mouth fill with saliva and spits.
"Not a fucking chance, Bonnet."
It's early enough that the crew is still asleep and the sky is just starting to show signs of changing from black to navy blue, the horizon just barely hinting at the possibility of light. The world is quiet and still. Izzy likes it like this, he can hear the ship. The waves break against the hull, the wood of the ship creaks and groans and the wind rustles the sails. The world is alive, just not as obnoxious.
Stede is surprisingly good with the sword. Not great, not yet, but for someone with no previous experience, he has the fundamentals down and has managed to keep his head on his shoulders long enough for Izzy to actually begin training him in earnest. He's a quick study and picks up the more advanced moves fairly easily. Izzy wants to find it infuriating. He finds it unbearably attractive instead.
"If you're going to actually go on a big boy raid," He says, as Stede takes a defensive position. "You need to know how to protect yourself."
"I suppose it would be presumptuous to assume that you'll always be around to watch my back, would it?" Stede grins, a small private smile, and Izzy has to look away. He hates that smile, he thinks. It makes him want things he can't have.
"Don't flatter yourself, Bonnet." He growls instead, advancing forward and bringing his blade down on Stede's. The man parries, stepping backward.
"Oh, don't be so sour. It's only us, no need to pretend."
Izzy doesn't reply, focusing on the movements. It's too early for him to be able to focus on anything else, besides the way Stede's arms are flexing in the early morning chill, his forearms, dusted in barely there gold hairs, and his eyes. His fucking eyes.
"You're distracted." Stede observes, stepping back and out of the way as Izzy lunges forward. Izzy misses, stumbling and righting himself.
"Fuck off." Izzy puts even more distance between them.
"It's fine if you are, we all have off days." Stede is looking at him in that way, like Izzy is someone he sees and understands, and Izzy doesn't want him to, but he does anyway. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, Bonnet. I'm fine. Again." He attacks, swinging his rapier high. Stede manages to block the first swing, the second, but on the third, Izzy notices Stede's gaze wandering and sweeps his leg, knocking the other man to the ground. Izzy follows, standing over him, pointing the tip of his sword directly at Stede's throat.
"Dead." He says simply, dragging the tip from his throat to his chest, to the spot where his heart would be. He pretends not to notice Stede's breath hitching, his eyes darkening, his own body reacting because damn, the man really does look good at the end of his sword.
"Right," Stede nods, pushing himself up onto his elbows, Izzy's rapier falling to the side. Izzy can't look away but he wants to. God, he wants to. He can't. He doesn't. "What did I do wrong?"
"You tell me." Izzy suggests, reaching down and helping him up. He keeps his hand in Stede's for a moment too long, savoring it, before pulling away.
"I lost focus, got too far in my head, let you get under my guard." Stede's brow furrows and he looks at Izzy. "I let you get too close."
Izzy doesn't respond to that, his mind filling in the blanks. Stede didn't have to say anything outright, after all. It's not like Izzy has been subtle, he's never been subtle.
"Again."
They spar for almost two hours, Izzy's heart pounding in his chest. His stump is aching but he can't let up now, can't stop now that Stede is smiling so wide and so brightly, laughing and grinning and blocking Izzy's attacks with more grace than a man of his size should have. The sun has crested the horizon by the time they end, the sky painted in vibrant shades of orange and pink. Stede's shirt is plastered to his body, dark and translucent, and Izzy is suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to lick the sweat from the dip between Stede's collarbones.
He's never felt so alive.
"That was amazing!" Stede exclaims, throwing his hands up. His sword dangles from his hand, the point nearly hitting the deck, and he's absolutely radiant.
"It was alright." Izzy shrugs. He can't stop staring, he knows he shouldn't, but he can't look away. He's never seen a man so beautiful and the thought is as exhilarating as it is terrifying.
He has half a mind to walk over to the mast, grab one of the ropes, and hang himself right there. It would save both of them a lot of pain.
"Oh come on, don't be such a spoil sport." Stede pouts, crossing his arms. The movement brings Izzy's attention back to Stede's body and he swallows. "I've made real progress today, we deserve to celebrate."
"I don't know what kind of celebrations you're used to, but..." Izzy is interrupted by a hand on his shoulder and he stiffens, words trailing off into nothing in the face of the warmth of Stede's palm through his shirt.
"Come on, I have a few bottles of a lovely wine. We can share, if you want." Stede squeezes his shoulder gently, smiling down at him. "It would be a shame to drink alone."
"You have Ed." He reminds him because one of them needed to say it, needed to acknowledge the fact that this thing, this spark, whatever it is, can't and won't happen. "He's the only company you need."
Stede's smile drops, his gaze darkens, and his grip tightens. Izzy's breath catches, his entire body tense, waiting, wondering, hoping.
"Please." Stede says, the word soft and barely above a whisper. It's so quiet, Izzy isn't sure he actually said anything at all. And Izzy? Well, Izzy has never been able to deny Stede a thing.
"Fine."
This is where it all goes wrong.
They dock in the Republic and Izzy sets off to hire some experienced shipwrights and sailors to careen the Revenge. He hands them a coin purse with almost forty pounds and shakes their hands. They have a day to complete the work and Izzy pulls Stede away from what looks like an interesting conversation with a merchant and presents him before them.
"This is my captain." He says. "You'll find him if you have any questions or concerns." The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them, and Izzy only realizes after they're out what he's said. The men nod, not giving him a second glance, and shake Stede's hand, calling him Captain and sir.
Stede beams and Izzy turns and walks away.
He doesn't stop walking until he's hidden in an out of the way alley. He's shaking, his heart is beating so fast, his skin is burning, and he feels like the air is being squeezed out of his lungs.
Captain. He's called Stede his captain, he's claimed him. In front of these men, in front of the crew, and most importantly, in front of Stede.
Thankfully, Edward hadn't been around to hear, but Izzy can't imagine the conversation going well when Stede tells him. And he will, of course he will.
It's bad enough that the sword fighting lessons have devolved into the most painful kind of foreplay, leaving Izzy aching and hard and desperate for something, anything. It's bad enough that he dreams about the soft curve of Stede's jaw, his plush lips, and his kind eyes. It's bad enough that his heart skips a beat every time Stede touches him.
No, this is something different. This is something more.
"Fuck."
The sound of his voice echoing back at him only serves to make him feel more pathetic. He's gone and fucked himself, and he doesn't even know how.
Izzy isn't stupid, he'd known he was attracted Stede Bonnet since the moment he met him. It had been a slow realization, creeping up on him, and one that had left him feeling hollow and angry and bitter when Edward had started his courtship.
Edward is Izzy's captain, the person Izzy loves and will follow, anywhere. He's the person Izzy would die for without a second thought.
But Stede Bonnet. Stede is special, somehow, and Izzy can't pinpoint exactly when his feelings had changed. When his begrudging acceptance of the man had shifted, from a reluctant acceptance to a quiet, unspoken admiration. When that admiration and loyalty had morphed into something softer and deeper and altogether more confusing.
He's in love. With Stede. And he can't even pinpoint the exact moment it had happened.
He doesn't know when he had started falling, or why, and he can't seem to stop. He's powerless and he can only hope that the ground doesn't rush up to meet him too quickly.
Izzy is no stranger to the sharp cut of loneliness. It's been his closest companion since the day he'd found his mother lying on the floor of their one room cottage. Her eyes had been open and glassy, the light of life extinguished, and Izzy had cried. He'd sobbed until his lungs hurt and his face was raw and his cheeks were red and swollen.
He'd buried her in the field behind their home and lived alone for a month, his father nowhere to be found, before anyone had realized. It was an old woman from the village who had noticed the state of their yard, the way the weeds and grass had grown high and unkempt, and had come to check on them. Miriam Hornigold had found him, malnourished and dirty, and had brought him to her son's privateering vessel.
The loneliness had ebbed then, working in the sun until his skin had burned, learning how to read and write and do basic math, and then he had met Edward, a young man, just like him, with a smile and a laugh and a penchant for trouble. And the loneliness had gone away entirely, replaced by a sense of belonging and purpose.
The loneliness had returned with a vengeance when Izzy realized that Edward had no interest in him. Oh, Edward loved him, that much was clear. He was loyal and faithful, the only person Izzy could trust, but his affections weren't the same as Izzy's. So, he had done his best to ignore it, to suppress it, to make his love a tool he could use. He had been successful, for the most part, and he was able to forget the loneliness. The longing.
Then Edward had found Stede and that longing had come rushing back.
Watching Edward and Stede together, watching the way they gravitated toward each other, the way Stede's face softened when Ed laughed, the way Ed's eyes followed Stede wherever he went, Izzy had felt the longing grow to an almost unbearable ache. He had ignored it, focusing on his captain, on being his rock, and he had done a good job, a very good job, and had managed to suppress the yearning.
Until now. Until he turned to Stede, the morning sun casting his golden hair in a halo of light, and called him captain.
The words are still echoing in his head, Captain, Captain, Captain.
He needs a drink.
Two hours later, he's three sheets to the wind and feeling no better, but at least the alcohol has dulled the edges of his pain, made it less sharp, more bearable.
He's sitting in a corner, his back against the wall, a bottle of rum held loosely in his hand, his thoughts sluggish and heavy. Oluwande is sitting beside him, equally drunk, and rambling about Jimenez. Izzy hasn't been listening, letting the sound wash over him, but a single sentence catches his attention.
"I just miss 'em, you know?" Oluwande sighs, pulling the bottle to his lips. Izzy turns, blinking owlishly at him. He doesn't remember how they got here, doesn't know why he's the one Oluwande has decided to unload on, but he's too drunk and tired and hurt to care. "I keep telling myself they left for a reason, yeah?"
"Yeah." Izzy echoes.
"I mean, they're here, in the Republic, and I'm too chickenshit to do anything about it." Oluwande takes another drink, staring at the far wall. Izzy can see tears shining in the man's eyes and feels a stab of sympathy. He's not used to the feeling, he doesn't particularly like it, but he understands the other man's pain.
"If it were me." Izzy says quietly, his mouth moving without his permission. He's never been one to talk about his feelings, but the alcohol has loosened his tongue and his inhibitions. "I would find them and tell them how I feel."
Oluwande looks at him, his eyes wide and surprised, almost like he'd forgotten Izzy was there. He nods, smiling softly, and wipes his eyes.
"Yeah," He says. "Maybe I'll do that."
"Good." Izzy thinks that'll be the end of it, but Oluwande pulls him up and drags him out into the street. They stumble, drunk and unsteady, and Izzy wonders what's gotten into the other man. "What the fuck, Boodhari?"
"'m taking your advice." He slurs, leading them across the way to Jackie's. Izzy can see Roach, Frenchie, and Wee John inside and feels a stab of panic. Stede is in there, with them, and Izzy has made a habit of avoiding him all day. He can't see him now, he's drunk and he'll do something stupid. He'll do something impulsive, like kiss him or tell him he loves him. He digs his heels in, pulling Oluwande back.
"This isn't a good idea." Izzy hisses. Oluwande frowns at him, confused, tugging at his arm a little more forcefully.
"This is literally your idea." He protests. Izzy yanks his arm back, scowling. "You're saying you..." His lips tug into a lopsided smile. "You're Izzy Hands, mate. You don't have bad ideas." Izzy's heart does a little flip and he's just drunk enough to let the words affect him, to let himself believe them.
"Fuck, fine." Izzy rolls his eyes, following Oluwande into the bar. He keeps his head down, eyes locked on the floor. The alcohol is making him dizzy and the last thing he wants is to lose his footing in a bar full of cutthroats and criminals.
He doesn't know when he closes his eyes, doesn't realize it's happening, until a warm hand wraps around his arm, keeping him upright. He's pressed into a solid chest, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist, and he doesn't need to look up to know who it is.
"Are you alright?" Stede asks, his breath brushing over the shell of Izzy's ear. Izzy shivers, his hands tightening in the fabric of Stede's shirt. It's a bad idea, he knows it is, but he can't help the way his body leans into the warmth, the way his fingers curl and dig into the muscles of his stomach. "Izzy, have you been drinking?"
Izzy doesn't respond, letting his head fall forward onto Stede's shoulder. The other man smells of salt and leather and oranges, and Izzy has the sudden urge to taste the skin of his throat, to lick the sweat from his collarbone. He opens his mouth and presses his lips to the side of Stede's neck, right above his collar.
He can hear Stede's sharp intake of breath, can feel the way the arms around his waist tighten, and a deep, shameful part of him revels in it. He's drunk and hurting and he just wants a little comfort. Just for a moment.
"Let's get you out of here." He hears Stede say. He can feel the rumble of his voice through the other man's chest, and Izzy nods. The movement makes him dizzy and he groans, turning his head and pressing his nose into the curve of Stede's neck.
"Please."
Izzy can feel himself smiling as Stede leads him to the inn they've reserved for the night, can feel barely used muscles stretching across his face. He doesn't think he's smiled this wide in years. He's practically vibrating with energy, his nerves tingling, his skin buzzing.
"'luwande loves Jim..." He slurs in a sing songy sort of voice, his head resting against Stede's arm. The man hums, encouraging, and Izzy feels himself start to laugh. "'s sweet."
"Oh?" Stede smiles down at him and Izzy is filled with a warmth unlike any he's ever felt before. He's not used to it, not used to the affection, not used to being someone's priority. Even now, when he's drunk and can barely stand on his own, Stede is looking at him like he's the only person that matters, and Izzy is helpless against the swell of emotions it stirs in him.
"'s good." Izzy sighs. His eyes are growing heavy, his thoughts hazy and unfocused, and he lets himself be guided down onto a soft, feather bed. "Don't go." He says. His tongue is thick in his mouth, his thoughts fuzzy, and he's barely conscious, but the words come out easily. He can't stop them, can't stop the desire from spilling out of him like blood from a wound. "Please."
"I'm not going anywhere." Stede's voice is soothing and Izzy finds himself reaching for him. There's a moment, brief, where Stede is just out of reach, but then Izzy's fingers curl around a handful of soft, warm fabric, and the mattress dips. A gentle hand cards through his hair, scratching at his scalp, and Izzy feels a quiet sigh fall from his lips.
"Good." He slurs. With a burst of energy that surprises even him, he sits up and fixes Stede with what he imagines to be a very serious expression. The other man's brow furrows and he places a gentle hand on Izzy's arm, squeezing.
"Izzy, are you...?"
"Stede fucking Bonnet." Izzy starts, and then pauses, taking a deep, steadying breath. It doesn't work, not really, and his stomach is still doing backflips, but at least he's not swaying anymore. "I have something to tell you." He giggles a bit, head light and heavy at the same time. "But it's a secret...shh." He brings his index finger to his lips. Stede nods, clearly trying to take him seriously.
"What is it?" Stede asks, his voice is so quiet, so tender, that Izzy has the sudden urge to kiss him. But no, that's not the right thing to do, not now, and he shoves the impulse aside.
"I'm in love with you." Izzy can't stop the words, can't force his lips to close, and they're falling out, tumbling from his mouth like water. "I'm so fucking in love with you, Bonnet, and I don't know what to do about it. I don't know what to say, I don't know how to be around you, not when you look at me the way you do." Stede is silent, his eyes wide and bright, and he's staring at Izzy, his lips slightly parted, his face flushed. "Say something." Izzy pleads. He feels small, his voice is a whisper, and he's staring down at his hands, twisting and knotting his fingers. "Please, just say something."
"Izzy." Stede's hand is gentle, his fingers are warm and soft, and Izzy wants to pull away, wants to hide and run and never look back, but Stede won't let him. "Izzy, can you look at me?"
Izzy doesn't want to, he's humiliated and ashamed, and he's afraid of what he'll see. But the hand is persistent, gently cupping his chin and lifting, forcing him to meet Stede's gaze.
"Izzy." The hand is still cradling his face, a thumb stroking his cheekbone, and he feels himself leaning into the touch, desperate for the contact. He leans and leans and then his lips are pressed against Stede's, soft and sweet and it's everything Izzy has ever wanted. He melts into the kiss, sighing into Stede's mouth, his hand coming up to cup the other man's neck, his fingers digging into the skin.
Stede kisses him and Izzy can't remember the last time he felt this alive, this present, this loved.
When they break apart, Stede is looking at him like he's the sun and the moon and the stars.
"Oh, Izzy." He whispers, his forehead coming to rest against Izzy's, his breath warm on his lips. Izzy is holding onto him, his fingers digging into the soft cotton of his shirt. He's shaking and his chest feels tight, but there's an elation in him, a bubbling happiness that is threatening to burst. "Darling."
"Darling..." Izzy echoes, testing the word, feeling the way it tastes on his tongue. He's not sure he's ever been anyone's darling, doesn't think he deserves the term, but he loves the way it sounds coming out of Stede's mouth, loves the way the man looks at him when he says it. "Darling." He says again, grinning. Stede laughs and the sound is music to his ears.
He's done it, he's finally done it. He's told Stede, he's kissed him, and it's the best feeling in the world. He lets himself fall back onto the bed, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. He can't remember the last time he felt so at ease, so at peace, and the alcohol is making him sleepy. He's warm and comfortable and the weight of Stede's arm over his stomach is the best thing he's ever felt.
"I love you too." He hears Stede whisper right as he's drifting off. He's not even sure he's said it out loud, not sure he's not just imagining the words. Either way, the words chase him into his dreams, where he can feel Stede's lips on his, can hear his voice calling him darling.
Darling, darling, darling.
He wakes slowly, his mouth dry and sour, his head pounding. The light filtering through the window is harsh and bright and Izzy winces. He's never been one to drink too much, usually only taking a couple glasses, just enough to take the edge off, but he can't seem to remember what had happened the night before.
The last thing he remembers is a bottle of rum and a quiet, one sided conversation with Oluwande.
Oluwande.
A rush of panic shoots through him. Oluwande had taken him to Jackie's. Had gone to tell Jim how he felt, and Izzy had been there, staring at the floor, trying not to fall.
He has no idea how he had gotten to the inn, has no memory of the walk, has no recollection of the room. The only thing he's certain of is that he was with Oluwande, and then he wasn't.
He stumbles out of bed, sure that the blanks can be filled in. He just needs to find the crew. He needs to find Stede.
Stede.
Another flash of panic runs through him. Stede had been there too, talking about...something. What had he been talking about?
He leaves the room, walking down the stairs, pausing when he hears the crew, loud and rowdy over breakfast as usual. Izzy takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and enters the dining hall.
Stede is there, seated at the end of the table, his eyes bright and happy. His cheeks are pink and he looks like he's barely able to contain a smile, and Izzy is filled with a rush of warmth but he doesn't know why.
"Ah, Izzy!" Stede exclaims, his eyes lighting up when they meet Izzy's. "Just the man I was looking for. Sit, please." He gestures to the seat beside him and Izzy's legs are moving, his body responding before his brain can even catch up. He's still trying to puzzle out what had happened the night before, his head spinning, and he can't seem to make sense of the situation.
"Izzy, man." Oluwande's voice sounds next to him and he turns, his brow furrowed. The man looks a little worse for wear, but his eyes are alight with joy, his lips tugged into a grin, and Izzy knows, regardless of the holes in his memory, that something good happened last night. "I wanted to thank you. I would've never had the balls to talk to Jim without you."
"Wait." Izzy says quietly, looking down at the plate of food Stede has handed him. "What happened last night?" Stede's hand freezes in place, halfway between the dish of marmalade and Izzy's toast.
"You don't remember?" He asks. Izzy shakes his head and Stede's smile falls. His lips press into a thin line, his eyes narrow, and his hand clenches into a fist around a knife. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Listening to Boodhari." Izzy responds, frowning. Stede is tense, his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together, and Izzy's heart is pounding. "Did I say something? Did I do something?" There's a beat and Izzy's stomach flips, his mind racing. "Fuck, Bonnet, if I said something that pissed you off just tell me." There's another beat and Izzy is panicking. "I'm sure I didn't mean it anyway." That gets a reaction, the butter knife clattering onto the table, the other man's gaze snapping towards him.
"Oh." Stede says quietly, his brow furrowed, his eyes a little sad. Izzy stares at him, confused. "Well, I can't fault you for forgetting, can I?"
"Bonnet." Izzy starts, and then stops. He has no idea what's going on, what's happened, and his stomach is twisted into knots. He can see Stede's face fall, can see his shoulders droop, and the ache in his chest intensifies.
"You were drunk." Stede says after a moment, his voice quiet. "You weren't in any state to..." He flushes, two points of color high on his cheeks. "Well, you weren't in any state, to put it simply. I brought you back to the inn."
"And then?" Izzy asks. He has the vague sensation of being held, of warmth and affection and happiness. "What happened then?"
"You t—"
"Oi!" Ed's voice cuts Stede off and he freezes, his eyes widening. "Stede, mate. Come here for a second." Stede's eyes dart between Ed and Izzy, his cheeks red.
"I'll be right back." He says softly, rising from his chair. Izzy watches him leave, his mind whirling. There's something important he's forgotten, he can feel it, but he doesn't know what it is.
He presses a single finger to his lips, tracing the outline. They tingle and Izzy's brow furrows. It feels like...like they've been kissed.
His breath catches.
He had kissed Stede.
Hadn't he?
No. That's not right. He would remember if he had actually managed to kiss Stede Bonnet. It's a dream, a fantasy, and it would never happen. Not in real life.
He presses harder, and he can feel the ghost of the pressure, the echo of a memory. Stede's eyes, soft in the lamplight, the way his fingers had curled in his hair, the way his breath had ghosted over Izzy's skin.
"Darling." He breathes, tongue curling around the word. He feels the memory hit him all at once, flooding his mind, and he stands. His chair clatters to the ground, the wood loud and harsh, and the crew startles, their gazes turning to him.
He's not looking at them, can't see anything past the memory of Stede, his face so open and affectionate. He's running, pushing through the doors, his breath loud in his ears.
He must stop, because everything stops, the world going still as he stares at Edward pulling Stede into a kiss right there in the foyer of the inn.
Izzy can't see Stede's face, not from where he's standing, but he can see the way Edward's hands clutch at his back, can see the raw possessiveness in the action.
Izzy's heart cracks, splintering, and he lets out a quiet sound that might be a whimper or a sob. He can't look away, can't move, can't think, and it's too much, it's too painful. His throat is tight, his lungs burning, and he can't breathe.
This is where everything changes for the better.
He stumbles away, his legs taking him down the street, his mind blank. He doesn't stop, can't stop, and he's not sure where he's going until he finds himself at the docks.
"Aye, Mr. Hands." One of the shipwrights catches his attention and gives him the statement of work, signed and sealed. "She's ready."
"Thank you." He hears himself say. He's on autopilot, his limbs moving without conscious thought. He directs them to the inn where Stede is, telling them to let him know that the ship is ready and waiting.
And then he's alone.
He makes his way to his cabin somehow, his shoulders trembling. He's not a crier, not normally, but his cheeks are wet and the tears are hot. He can feel them tracking down his skin and he can't bring himself to wipe them away. He can feel the pieces of his heart crumbling, breaking into smaller and smaller shards as he hears the crew bounding onto the ship, bickering and oohing and ahhing at how clean everything is.
"Izzy!" Stede's voice calls, loud and concerned, and the shards of his heart dig into him, cutting and painful. There's a knock at his door, three short raps, and then the knob is turning and Stede is there.
"You left." Stede says. He's breathing heavily, his brow furrowed, and he's looking at Izzy like he's not sure whether he should be angry or worried.
"I did." Izzy answers, and his voice is rough, his throat tight. He's staring at Stede, and it's taking everything he has not to throw himself at the man.
"You shouldn't have." Stede's voice is soft, gentle, and it's everything Izzy wants, everything he needs. "You told me you loved me last night, Izzy." Stede tells him and the broken pieces of his heart are suddenly alight, burning, and it's too much, it's too much, it's—
"I did." He echoes, and then again. "I did." He can feel his knees go weak and he's collapsing onto his bunk, his body trembling. He had told Stede Bonnet he loved him and he had meant it. He can't take it back, doesn't want to, doesn't know if he would, even if he could.
He'd laid himself bare, exposed and raw, and Stede had let him.
"I don't remember everything." Izzy whispers, and his voice cracks. Stede is kneeling in front of him, his hand resting gently on Izzy's knee. "But I remember kissing you." Stede nods, the look on his face soft, tender. "I was drunk, it probably wasn't even that fucking good of a kiss anyway. I can do better." Izzy says hopefully, and he's not sure where the words are coming from. He's not thinking, the words are pouring out, and Stede's lips part, his eyes widening.
"I'd love to see you try." Stede murmurs, and then his hands are cradling Izzy's face and he's leaning forward, his lips a hair's breadth away from Izzy's. "Would you kiss me again? Sober this time?" He whispers, and the question is so fucking earnest that Izzy wants to scream.
"Yes." He says, and then Stede's lips are on his, soft and sweet, and the kiss is so gentle and so careful and Izzy melts. Stede's lips are soft, pliant, and they taste of marmalade and coffee. His breath is warm on Izzy's face, his fingers digging into his skin.
It's nothing like the kiss from the night before. It's not desperate or messy, it's not hurried or frenzied. It's slow and languid and so fucking perfect, and Izzy can feel the broken shards of his heart begin to mend themselves.
"Again." Izzy gasps when they part, his hand cupping the back of Stede's neck. He's holding him close, his grip tight, and Stede makes a quiet sound, his teeth nipping at Izzy's bottom lip. "Please."
"Anything." Stede whispers against his lips, and the word is a promise, an oath, a prayer. "Anything, darling, anything." And then his lips are on Izzy's again, kissing him, claiming him, and Izzy can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but hold on.
"Again." He whispers, when the kiss ends, and Stede's lips are on his, again and again and again, and each one is more perfect than the last.
They stay there, wrapped up in each other, until the sun goes down, and it's perfect.
This is where everything changes for the worst.
They weigh anchor, they set sail, and they're on the open ocean. It's raining when Izzy hears the first raised voices, and his blood runs cold.
"Unbelievable!" Stede's voice is loud, harsh, and it's full of rage. Izzy moves, his legs taking him onto the deck, where the crew is gather around the doorway to the captain's quarters like a bunch of fucking idiots. "Absolutely unbelievable."
"What the fuck is going on?" Izzy demands, his voice hard, sharp. The crew jumps, their gazes darting between him and the door, and no one says a word. "Get the fuck back to work." He snarls and the crew scurries. He stalks forward, his heart pounding. He hears the muffled quarreling, the sharp gasp, then a loud voice.
"No, it is a fucking ultimatum." Edward is shouting. "Because I thought we had something special. I told you I was all in!"
"And what on earth makes you think I'm not?!" Stede sounds hysterical, desperate and Izzy's heart is pounding. He can hear it in his ears.
"Oh, I don't know." Ed's voice is low, a growl, and Izzy has only ever heard him use it when he's threatening a man's life. "Maybe the fact that you're asking me to share you. Blackbeard doesn't fucking share."
"Edward, I'm not some prize to be fought over or stolen!" Stede snaps. "I am a person! I have feelings, and emotions, and I love both of you. And it's not fair to ask me to choose between you!"
"Then I'll make the choice for you." Ed's voice is deadly, and the room goes still. Izzy's breath catches, his heart stopping. "If you won't choose, I will."
"What does that mean?" Stede sounds worried suddenly. "Edward. What does that mean?"
"You'll figure it out." Edward growls, and then there's the sound of the door slamming and Edward is walking onto the deck. His face is dark, his mouth twisted into a snarl, and his gaze is focused on Izzy.
"Captain." He says softly, and the word is a question. His stomach is twisting, his heart is aching, and he doesn't know what to do. He wants to run to the captain's quarters, to hold Stede, to beg him to choose him, but he's frozen.
Edward stalks forward, his fingers tangling in the front of Izzy's shirt, and Izzy's breath catches.
"You don't get to have this." Ed growls, his voice low. His face is twisted with rage and jealousy, his eyes dark. "You don't get to have him."
"I—"
"Do you understand me?" Ed asks, his voice deceptively calm. Izzy nods, and Edward's lips twist into a cruel smile. "Good." Ed lets him go and he stumbles, catching himself against the main mast. He stares, eyes wide, as Edward disappears back into the cabin, the door slamming shut behind him.
Izzy is breathing hard, his hands trembling.
This is how it ends.
Izzy goes through the motions, giving each crew member their own personal pep talk so they can get through their chores. He swallows down bile every time he walks past the captain's cabin, every time he thinks about the way Edward's voice had gone cold and harsh, the way his eyes had lit up with rage. The door had stayed closed all night, all morning, and the entire crew had been on edge.
He doesn't see Stede. Until he does.
The man finds him in the night, after everyone else has gone to sleep. He's seated on the quarter deck, Buttons' bird—Olivia, he thinks—perched on his shoulder, and he's staring out at the stars.
"Izzy." Stede's voice is soft and he startles. Olivia flutters up into the rigging, making a small sound, and Stede's hands are shaking as he sits next to him. "I wanted to apologize."
"For what?" Izzy asks, his brow furrowed. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I fucked everything up."
"No." Stede shakes his head. "You didn't do anything wrong, Izzy, please believe that."
"Then why does Edward hate me?" He asks, and the question is a plea and a lamentation all in one. He hates himself for asking it, but he can't stop. Stede looks at him, and his eyes are soft, tender.
"He doesn't." Stede whispers. He takes moves closer and his hand reaches out, his fingers gentle against Izzy's jaw. "He loves you, actually." Izzy scoffs, pulling away. "He loves us both so much, and he's terrified that we'll leave him." Stede huffs out a humorless laugh. "Again, in my case."
"We wouldn't." Izzy insists. "Bonnet, he has to know that."
"I know that." Stede smiles sadly. "And you know that. But he's is a complicated man." Stede reaches down and laces their fingers together. Izzy lets him, counting in his head, savoring it, storing the feeling of comfort it brings away in his mind. He pulls his hand away when he gets to ten.
"What are we going to do?" Izzy asks, his voice breaking. Stede reaches up, his thumb brushing along Izzy's cheekbone, and he closes his eyes. He's shaking, the memory of Edward's hand tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his eyes alight with jealousy and anger. "How do we fix this?"
"We love him." Stede tells him simply. "He's being unreasonable, in time he will come to see that. In the meantime, we love him and we love each other."
"You can't—"
"I can." Stede interrupts. "And I do." He leans forward and brushes his lips over Izzy's, so softly and gently, and it's over far too soon. Again. He thinks. Again.
"Again." He says aloud, his voice a broken whisper, and Stede smiles, indulging him. It lasts longer this time, a breath and a moment and an eternity, and Izzy loses himself in it. "Again." He says when the kiss ends, and he feels the way Stede's lips twitch against his own.
"Tomorrow." Stede whispers, his breath hot against Izzy's mouth. "And all the tomorrows after that. I promise." And then he's gone, his footsteps fading as he retreats down to the main deck, leaving Izzy staring at his back.
Izzy watches him until the door to the captain's cabin shuts, and he's left alone. He can still feel the warmth of Stede's fingers on his skin, the soft press of his lips, and he's dizzy with want and desire and shame and hope.
Again. He thinks. Again.