#he might have even managed to get over stede given enough time

[happyfeetfuryroad]

The saddest thing to me is seeing how many people (both in universe and out) buy into the narrative that Ed "went mad because Stede abandoned him" i.e. that Edward is this fickle hyperviolent guy who will snap and cause atrocities to cope with his pain

When Edward!! Was coping!! Wonderfully!! Before someone!! Decided to harrass him!! With the express purpose of making him snap!!

[ourflaghashands]

just wip things

a spicy scene from Pitch Black that I was too impatient to wait for 😂 (don't worry, I'm still working on chapter 4)

Read under the cut!

(I don't write spicy stuff very often so I'm sorry if it's wonky :'D)

Izzy paces back and forth across the captain’s cabin. It’s well past the point when Stede said he would be joining him, and Izzy is dying for an explanation. He hadn’t done anything wrong. At least, not really. But Izzy can still see Stede’s face, pinched and anxious, and the authoritative voice pouring out of him still rings in Izzy’s ears. He doesn’t know what to expect when Stede finally joins him.

He manages to get in a few more laps before the door opens with a gentle click and Stede walks inside, looking pale and drawn.

“How’s Frenchie?” Izzy asks, before anything else can be said. Stede puts up a hand momentarily before divesting himself of his coat. He sinks into one of the armchairs with a sigh. “He’ll be fine. Might need stitches, but Roach assured me he’d make a full recovery.”

Something in Izzy’s chest unclenches. He knows that it wasn’t his fault, but he had a sense of responsibility for the crew. He was supposed to make sure they were prepared for everything, and Frenchie’s sword work had never been his strength. Perhaps Izzy would have to fix that.

“Good.” Izzy murmurs, just loud enough for Stede to hear. He doesn’t want anyone to think he’s gone soft, so he adds, “It’d be a shame to lose the only bard on the ship.”

Stede snorts, slightly undignified, and the response says more about how exhausted he is than his looks.  Izzy slinks over to him. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about?” He can’t just sit here and wonder any longer – the unknown is driving him insane.

“I’m under no illusion about your abilities with a sword, Israel, but even you have to realize you were way in over your head. Why did you put yourself in that position?” Bonnet’s words strike something in Izzy, drawing up memories of the night of The Incident with Edward.

Izzy swallows, looking down at his feet. “I couldn’t let anything happen to my Captain.” He responds easily, because it’s true – even if he and Edward still aren’t entirely in good standing with each other, Izzy still can’t bear the thought of losing him. He’s been the one constant in Izzy’s life. The single port in a storm for as long as he can remember.

“I understand. And I do thank you for helping him. But next time you shouldn’t go in alone like that.” And Izzy knows Bonnet is right, loath as he is to admit it. Izzy has always been Edward’s attack dog, his sword, an extension of the legend himself, but Blackbeard’s reputation isn’t unfounded. Ed probably would have been okay if Izzy hadn’t jumped in like that, but taking the risk of finding out was too terrifying to give thought to.

Izzy finally crosses the room to Stede and sinks to the floor, resting his forehead against one of the Alpha’s knees. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” He bites the words out, because this sort of vulnerability is still new to him. Bonnet makes a noise, somewhat like a scoff but too gentle, and cards his fingers through Izzy’s hair.

“You’re okay, darling. I’m just glad nothing happened.” As calm as Stede sounds, the memory of his furious gaze is still Fresh in Izzy’s mind, and it draws a submissive whine from the omega’s throat.

“None of that, now.” Bonnet murmurs, reaching down and forcing Izzy’s face up. He leans down and presses their lips together, all gentle. Izzy lets himself melt into it, lets Bonnet deepen the kiss and explore his mouth with his tongue. He takes what he’s given and nothing more, until Bonnet breaks the kiss. Izzy’s tongue darts out to wet his own lips.

He’s still tense, despite the fact that Stede seems to have forgiven him. There’s always been a balance to Izzy’s experiences, and right now the scales feel tipped. He had upset Stede, he knows he had, but there’s no follow up. No retribution. It leaves something in him unsettled, and Izzy doesn’t like it.

“What if I…” He trails off, before he realizes how messed up that thought process is, and he feels his face go warm.

“What if you what?” Bonnet prompts. His hand is still in Izzy’s hair, scratching soothing circles into his scalp. It’s almost distracting enough to make the omega lose his train of thought. He feels his face pinching together like he’s just eaten a lemon. How does he voice the problem without sounding absolutely mental?

He’s never been good with words. That’s always been one of his shortcomings.

“I…you can’t just forgive me, Stede. I saw how angry you were.” Izzy doesn’t look Stede in the eyes, focusing his attention on a fold in the Alpha’s shirt.

“I just did.” Stede says, nonplussed. Izzy fights down a groan, shaking his head and nearly dislodging Stede’s hand.

“I don’t want you to.” Izzy clarifies, feeling his face grow hotter. “I need you to follow through.”

There’s a long moment of silence, before Stede makes a soft noise of understanding. “You…want to be punished.” It isn’t a question, but Izzy nods a confirmation all the same. Shame wells up in the pit of his stomach because he knows it’s not normal of him, but he can’t help the way he is. A lifetime of conditioning, quid-pro-quo, an eye for an eye – whatever you want to call it – has made it impossible for Izzy to leave things feeling unfinished, especially when it comes to those who have earned his respect.

And, despite everything, Stede has earned it.

Stede hums thoughtfully, his hand leaving Izzy’s hair. Izzy fights down a soft noise of disappointment – he hasn’t earned that affection yet. There’s a lingering silence, and Izzy’s nerves fray just a little more as time stretches on between them. He feels like he’s about to burst when Stede finally addresses him.

“What if you made it up to me?” Stede asks, and Izzy finally raises his eyes to look the Alpha in the face. It’s a decent proposal – Stede seems hesitant to actually punish him, never seems to really want to unless he’s truly angry, but his eyes are bright, and Izzy thinks he can work with this.

“…Yeah, alright.” He concedes, the tension in his shoulders receding a bit. He will earn his forgiveness. That’s acceptable.

“Come here, darling.” Stede urges Izzy up with his hands, and Izzy rises from the floor, clambering into Stede’s lap and straddling his thighs, his feet hanging over the edge of the seat. Stede pulls him into a heated kiss, and Izzy can feel that the Alpha is already half-hard in his trousers. Something in Izzy’s stomach squirms pleasantly at the thought. It could have been the excitement of the raid, but Izzy likes the thought that their proximity is what’s doing it.

Stede kisses Izzy until he’s breathless, delirious and pliant under the Alpha’s hands. The hard line of Stede’s cock is pressing into the space between them, and Izzy’s hips roll forward into the bulk of it, making Stede hiss into his mouth.

“Strip for me, Darling.” Stede’s voice is rough, and tinged with the steel of command that Izzy is helpless to disobey. He carefully extricates himself from Stede, removing his clothing one piece at a time. His cravat and ring are first, and he places them carefully on the nearby table. His vest, shirt, and pants are quick to follow, before Izzy peels off his smalls. They’re damp, and he knows he won’t be putting them back on until they’ve been washed.

Stede rises from the chair, grabbing a cushion off of the nearby chaise and depositing it onto the floor. “Kneel there, and wait for me.” He says, no-nonsense. Izzy sinks to his knees on the cushion, glad of the padding. He’s not as young as he used to be, after all.

Stede busies himself, grabbing a few things from around the room before going into the washroom for several minutes. Izzy remains where he is, letting the calm warmth of obeying the orders given to him wash over him. He’s drifting, mind pleasantly fuzzy, and the burning need between his thighs is only a distant bother.

He loses track of time, and nearly jolts out of that fuzzy space when Stede returns, carrying a basin and wearing a robe that does absolutely nothing to hide his straining erection. He places the basin and a cloth down on the table, before turning his attention back to Izzy. He pets a hand through his hair, humming pleasantly.

“Good boy, Izzy. So patient for me.” He rumbles, and it’s enough to make Izzy’s legs shake where they’re still holding him up. Stede reaches down and presses the pad of his thumb against Izzy’s lower lip, and Izzy’s mouth falls open obediently. Stede presses the digit flat to Izzy’s tongue, holding his mouth open.

“Will this be alright for you? If I use your mouth?” Stede asks, and Izzy whines at the promise of it, nodding his head just slightly so as not to dislodge the Alpha’s hand. The consent seems enthusiastic enough for Stede, because he removes his thumb and tugs his robe open. His cock is standing at attention, rock-hard and glistening at the tip. Izzy feels his mouth water, but doesn’t close it.

Stede shifts closer, letting just the tip rest against Izzy’s tongue. He shifts his hips, dragging it back and forth against the plain of it, before slowly pushing in. His thrusts are shallow at first, presumably to let Izzy get used to the feel of it, before he pushes deeper. Izzy can feel the tip of it hitting the back of his throat before long, and subtly tilts his head to give the Alpha a better angle, breathing through his nose.

Stede sets up a slow, lazy rhythm, giving Izzy time to pull in little puffs of breath between each thrust. It’s a torturously slow pace, but the repetitiveness of it drives Izzy to heights he didn’t know he could reach. The weight of Stede on his tongue, the control of it, and the knowledge that he’s being used by Stede to chase his own pleasure tugs him into that fuzzy space once more, and he’s only mildly aware of saliva leaking from the corners of his mouth.

He’s painfully hard himself, and he can feel slick drooling out of him, down between his thighs and onto the cushion below him. He reaches up to hold onto Stede’s hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He doesn’t control the pace – Stede is doing that, but he needs contact, and this is the best way to get it.

Stede seems to read his mind, and one of his hands goes to Izzy’s hair, fingers carding through it and pressing against the base of his skull. Izzy’s eyes slip closed and he loses himself in the sensation of it. The alpha keeps up his carefully controlled pace, and Izzy can feel warmth and pressure building between his thighs; he’s close to coming, his hips twitching slightly against empty air.

It goes on like this, Izzy quickly losing track of time, his own arousal building. Stede’s thrusts are getting a little faster, cutting Izzy’s breathing off at quicker intervals. He’s swallowing around Stede’s cock, willing the Alpha to go deeper. Stede complies, and soon enough he’s fucking into Izzy’s mouth with abandon.

The intensity of it is too much, and Izzy feels the tension between his legs build at a dizzying rate. His thighs flex as he tries to stave it off, but there’s nothing he can do. Heat blooms low in his belly and his hips jerk forwards as he comes, untouched, his cunt clenching rhythmically on absolutely nothing.

He distantly hears Stede swear above him, a choked-off ‘Did you just—’ spilling out of his lips before his hips stutter and he comes down the back of Izzy’s throat. Izzy swallows him down with purpose, sucking gently until Bonnet’s softened cock slides back out of his mouth, leaving him empty. He whines, bereft, and suddenly Stede is on the ground with him, pulling him into a filthy kiss. Izzy doesn’t doubt he can taste himself, his tongue is so far back in the omega’s mouth.

The aftershocks and shaking in his thighs are too much, and Izzy sinks the rest of the way down, a grimace pulling at his lips as he lands in the cold puddle of his own slick. Stede chuckles gently above him, pressing his face down to nuzzle into Izzy’s hair. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmurs, before carefully rising to his feet. “Get on the bed.” He says, crossing over to the table to fetch the basin and cloth.

Izzy rises on unsteady legs, making it over to the bed and sitting down heavily. Stede sets the basin down next to the bed and pushes on Izzy’s chest until he’s lying back. Stede goes to work on him, using the damp cloth to clean the slick from his thighs and cunt. The drag of it on his oversensitive nub draws a whimper from him, but he’s too far gone to feel shame for it. Stede makes a soothing sound in the back of his throat, finishing up his work before climbing into the bed next to him.

He pulls Izzy against him and Izzy immediately shoves his nose into the crook of Stede’s neck, scenting him thoroughly. A stuttering purr rumbles up from his chest, unfamiliar but comfortable. He curls up against the Alpha, hoping the noise will be enough to convey his thanks. He no longer feels off-kilter, and he can feel the tug of sleep softening his edges until it pulls him under. He’s vaguely aware of Stede pulling the blanket over both of them, but he’s out like a snuffed candle before much else can register.

[linssikeittomies]

Pivot Points - Chapter 2: Veering Right

Masterpost / Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

CW: mentions of suicide

--

Even if Stede dislikes the man, it is disconcerting to see Izzy like this, so ashen and listless. He might even go as far saying that at times he hates the supposed first mate, but when Ed had dragged the man back on the deck, unconscious and bleeding, he’d felt worried and not just nauseated. Of course the vast majority of that had to do with Ed being so distraught at the thought of Izzy dying. Even if Stede finds it hard to feel actual sympathy towards the man who was constantly belittling Stede’s crew and especially Stede himself, and who sold him to the navy, and who was always sneering and scoffing and yelling and - the point is, even if the man is belligerent and unpleasant to everyone, there has to be something benign in him if Ed has kept the asshole by his side for so long. Maybe it’s whatever had possessed him to try and kill himself. Could be telling of an actual person beneath that seething ball of contempt and ego that was Israel Hands. So Stede feels a very small amount of concern for him, and might even wish for his survival, in a distant way, even if it is all for Ed.

Poor Ed hasn’t stopped crying the whole time. He was beside himself as they waited for Roach to get his tools together, and broke down completely when the cook started stitching Izzy’s neck back together. Stede didn’t have the heart to tell what he thought at the time - that it was too late, it wouldn’t do anything but waste their supplies. He could only hold Ed and pet his hair for hours as they waited for any sign of Izzy either passing on or waking up. It had taken until midday to convince Ed to clean off the blood and change his clothes, and then he came right back to sit by the bed, holding Izzy’s limp hand, tears in his eyes. He vowed to stay until Izzy woke up.

Even though it seems more and more likely that he never will. Roach had said his chances weren’t great, something they all had known right away. And with each passing minute, it seems even more unlikely. His breathing is shallow, his skin is pale as a ghost, and he hasn’t stirred the whole time Ed has been pleading him to wake up.

And even if he does, by some miracle, what’s stopping him from doing it all over again? He had cut his neck and jumped off the railing even with Ed, basically his raison d’etre, standing right next to him. If even that hadn’t been enough to stop him...

Stede could never have imagined Izzy harbored such thoughts. He just always seemed angry, never sad. But people are complicated, even ones such as Izzy. Perhaps in the future, Stede could make more of an effort to understand and sympathize with people he disapproved of, he hates to think he might’ve had a part to play in this. He did steal Ed from Izzy... even if it has been good for Ed, and Stede didn’t fully understood their relationship at the time, so he could hardly be blamed for taking the opportunity. And don’t get him wrong, he would do it all again if he was given the chance, just with more kindness. He would make sure Izzy understood he wasn’t trying to step on anyone’s toes, and he wouldn’t accept the duel that forced Izzy off the ship and into making a deal with the navy. He would try to guide Izzy into moving on from Ed and finding happiness with someone else, instead of flaunting his victory. Maybe then they could all live peacefully.

Being alone with his thoughts is too depressing. He wouldn’t share them with Ed, the poor man was distraught enough already. But Stede needs something to distract himself. Maybe distract Ed, while he is at it.

 “Why don’t I read to him? He likes violent tales, perhaps Titus Andronicus would rouse him?”

Ed sniffs and manages a small smile at Stede. “Yeah, it couldn’t hurt. And he hates your guts so maybe he’ll wake up just to shut you up.”

 “Darling”, Stede chuckles and gives Ed forehead a kiss. Titus Andronicus is not a play Stede much cares for, too much gore, but it was the first Shakespeare he found after coming back to the Revenge. He later found two others, on raids to particularly sophisticated ships, but as his book collection is still sorely lacking, he hasn’t had the heart to get rid of any in his shelves, distasteful or not.

When he returns, Ed is gently petting Izzy’s hand.

 “You better wake up if you don’t want him to do the voices.”

 “He’s right, you know”, Stede concurs, and throws a longing glance at the settee. It’s much more comfortable than the chairs they dragged next to the bed to keep watch over Izzy, and after several hours of sitting stiffly on a dining chair, he would like nothing more than to lounge a little. But Ed needs him, so Stede lets it stay as a glance, and sits down with his back straight, and begins reading out loud.

He’s just started the second act when Izzy finally makes a soft noise. Ed holds his breath, but when nothing more happens, he spurs Stede to keep going because it’s working, it’s working!, though Stede has his doubts. However, he keeps going, because it’s a comfort to Ed.

 “Upon her wit doth earthy honour waite, and vertue stoopes and trembles at her frowne. Then Aaron, arme thy hart, and fit thy thoughts, to mount -”

There’s a pained grunt, and damn, but Ed is right! Reading really is working! Stede keeps at it, keeping as close a watch on Izzy’s face as he can between reading lines, while Ed gets on his feet in tense relief. Ever so slowly, Izzy comes to, first faintly twitching his fingers, then feebly lifting his hand the wound at his neck, and then hazily opening his eyes. His unfocused gaze roams sluggishly from the ceiling to Stede, who only stops reading once his face contorts into that familiar scowl. Yup, he is definitely awake.

 “So it’s real”, he says quietly, defeated, voice drowsy and even raspier than usual, and weak. Almost unrecognizable. But he is awake, against all odds, and that meant Ed’s heart won’t be broken any further.

 “Iz”, Ed whispers, voice full of tears, nearly as weak as Izzy’s. He’s still holding Izzy’s hand, and Izzy looks at it in disbelief. He tries flexing his fingers, but as the hands holding his turn out to be no mirage, his face softens.

 “That’s awful nice of you”, he mumbles to himself, before closing his eyes again. Panic takes hold of Ed, and he abandons Izzy’s hand in favor of cupping his face frantically.

 “Izzy please - please...” And then the tears are flowing freely again. “You have to make it, please stay with me Iz, you can pull through...” As he speaks, Ed’s hands travel to Izzy’s shoulders, as though getting ready to shake him.

 “Darling, gently now. I’m sure he’ll make it, but you need to be gentle.”

 “Shut up...” Izzy mutters weakly, probably seconds away from falling back into unconsciousness. Ed’s getting so frenzied he might end up doing something drastic unless Stede stepped in.

 “Maybe you should go get Roach”, he suggests while setting aside Titus Andronicus on the table, to get Ed something concrete to do. Sitting here unable to help isn’t doing either of them any good. “I’ll look after him in the meantime.”

Ed agrees with a shuddering sob, maybe thinking the exact same thing. Izzy really is out of it, he doesn’t seem to even notice Ed leaving. He just stares at his hand in disbelief again, until his eyelids get too heavy and he’s halfway back to sleep. Stede thinks he should try to keep him awake until Roach gets back.

 “You really scared us, you know. Doing something like that.”

No verbal answer, but Izzy does - with great effort - turn his back to Stede, so at least he is still awake. A shudder goes through him, and it might equally be from pain or disgust.

 “Please try to get better, for his sake at least. He won’t know what to do if you’re gone.”

 “He’ll live.”

 “But he’d be unhappy. You mean a lot to him.”

Stede thought the words would bring some fight back into Izzy, that Stede admitting Izzy still holds importance to Ed would stroke his ego, but apparently the emotion is too raw to handle right now - Izzy begins curling into himself and hides his face in his hands. He moves slowly and haltingly, pain and lethargy taking their toll.

 “Please don’t”, he whispers with a trembling sob.

He doesn’t strike Stede as the type to have ever said please in his life. Least of all to someone he hates. It must take a lot out of him, so what can Stede do but comply? He sits in silence for a short moment, Izzy laying still with his back to him, then Ed returns with a grouchy Roach in tow, and Lucius’ voice complaining outside the door about not being let in.

Izzy didn’t stay awake for long that first day. After a little over an hour he fell back asleep, exhausted from the loss of blood and emotional toll, even if he himself wouldn’t admit to it. And even though it started looking like Izzy would make a full recovery with time, Ed couldn’t stop crying. He could manage a tired calm as long as he wasn’t looking at Izzy, but anytime his eyes wandered to the bed he would burst into tears.

After dinner, as Stede is just starting to wonder where they would sleep since Izzy took up the bed, he speaks.

 “You should stay to take care of him”, Ed says with a choked voice.. “He wouldn’t want to see me like this. He hates it when I look weak.”

 “You don’t think he’d hate being in my care even more?”

 “You don’t know him like I do. He can’t handle Blackbeard not being some immovable rock.” Stede has seen and heard hints of that - he doesn’t know the details, but from all the his name is Blackbeard, dog! and the annoyed looks whenever Ed joined in activities, he had suspected as much. And from what he’s heard from Ed directly, Izzy had from the start been much more invested in the legend of Blackbeard than Ed himself.

Also there was that major temper tantrum he threw when Ed officially denounced his captainship to better make amends with the crew he marooned, and to decisively discard the mantle of legendary pirate captain Blackbeard.

Ed blows his nose and wipes his eyes. The skin on his face is getting raw from all the wiping he’s been doing. “And he’d hate having anyone else see him in this state. Roach already has his duties -” and most likely he’d use the opportunity to take as bad care of Izzy as possible without actually killing him. “- and Buttons can be acting captain while he recovers, so you can look after him. Please?”

Stede can’t say he’s excited about the idea. Izzy throws enough shit his way when they barely interact, he’s not looking forward to the barrage of insults once Izzy’s dependant on him. But he’ll do it for Ed. And maybe in small part for Izzy, also.

Ed thanks him with a kiss, but looks somewhat defeated when he exits the cabin. He must feel quite inadequate for not being able to care for his long-time companion- Stede is hesitant to call Izzy his friend since their relationship has been fairly tense for years, according to Ed. Seems to Stede that he has kept Izzy around mostly because they’d sailed together for so long already. They both know how the other works, which makes running a ship that much easier. No doubt there was also a sentimental attachment, but it doesn’t seem as important as the practical aspect since Ed has spent a lot of time avoiding Izzy, as much as it is possible for a captain to avoid his first mate. Part for the pressure to perform the role of Blackbeard, part for the frustration of dealing with - well, Izzy. The man can’t even be nice to the person he idolizes.

Stede feels an equal want to explain it with both a difficult childhood, and with him just being an asshole. After all, Ed didn’t turn out like that. Or Stede. But then again, most people with happy childhoods don’t turn out so hateful. Stede knows very little about Izzy, could turn out he has a perfectly good reason to be so poisonous, so defensive, so ready to just attack anyone and everyone and piss off everyone around him and ensure he would keep being miserable to the end of his days.

Alright. Stede won’t stoop to his level. He is the Gentleman Pirate after all, his manners are always impeccable! Surely extending some sympathy won’t be an impossible task.

Izzy slept through nearly the whole evening, only waking up once to use the chamber pot, and once to Stede shaking him gently to offer food and water. He refused both with a tired mutter, and turned his back to Stede. He didn’t stir again even when Lucius came by with great dramatics. Stede managed to refuse him entry in the end, on the grounds of Izzy still not being in a state to have visitors -physically that was a given, but Stede didn’t mention that, and even less did he mention the psychological state. Izzy also stayed unmoving the whole time Stede busied himself around the cabin, making a temporary cot on the floor - while the settee was quite nice for lounging in, it wasn’t quite long enough to really lay in comfortably - or when accidentally spilled hot tea on his foot and had to hop around one-footed to find something to treat the burn with, or when he finally wished Izzy goodnight sometime before midnight. And when Stede woke up in the morning, Izzy seemed to still be in the same position he had taken in the evening. He also refused the breakfast Roach had left behind the door - with a snappy fuck off, naturally. Stede of course left it on the table, planning to step out of the cabin for a few hours to let Izzy stew alone and change his mind once he got hungry enough.

So, yes, extending sympathy isn’t an impossible task but Izzy sure isn’t making it easy, either. No wonder Roach finds it so hard to act civil with Izzy. They should really give him something nice for patching up Izzy so well despite hating him and having the perfect opportunity to take revenge. The poor man really didn’t take well to being marooned.

Stede finds Ed in the rec center, playing checkers with the Swede. The game is immediately abandoned when he spots Stede, and he quickly leads Stede deeper into the cargo hold, to speak more privately.

 “Is he any better?” Ed asks anxiously.

 “He’s awake, at least”, Stede sighs. “But being difficult.”

 “Wouldn’t expect anything less of him”, Ed tries to laugh, but it’s much more of a sob. Stede offers him a hug, and Ed takes it desperately. He’s about to get more desperate, Stede is afraid.

 “He refused dinner. And breakfast. I left it on the table, I hope he’ll have some while I’m away. Do you know his favorite foods? He’s still weak, I’m hoping he’d eat better if it’s something he likes.”

 “Haven’t really paid attention. He usually eats alone, you know.” A sob shakes Ed’s shoulders, and Stede tightens his hold slightly. “Do you think it’s my fault? That he feels lonely?”

 “Of course not, darling. He doesn’t strike me as the type try very hard to be social.”

 “But I started withdrawing first. I was always avoiding him, what if I -”

 “Hush. You can’t blame yourself for the choices Izzy made. He isolated himself, and stayed on your ship. He chose not to seek other people.”

 “But I should have noticed”, Ed laments.

While Stede is surprised Ed hadn’t noticed, he in no way faults him for it. Despite them working together for decades, it’s not out of character for Izzy to work hard to hide all his hurts and look tough no matter what, much like an alley cat who can’t afford to look weak, lest he be eaten first - the pirating life isn’t an easy one, and leaves a mark on everyone who leads it. Even Ed had to maintain an image to keep himself safe, forcing him into a mold that didn’t fit him properly, leaving him aching all over. And while things aren’t like that on the Revenge, and even if Ed has learned that showing vulnerability is alright and even healthy in some cases, Stede can’t expect Izzy to have learned the lesson this fast. For one, the crew hates him and would shove that vulnerability where the sun don’t shine - for good reason, Stede might say, though he’s not sure he wants that calling-out anymore - and Stede can’t claim himself to have been very nice to him, either. Civil, with some effort, but not nice. So really, it makes sense Izzy wouldn’t let his troubles show.

 “My guess is he didn’t want you to notice”, Stede says softly, comforting. He pets Ed’s hair and keeps himself steady as Ed slumps against him more and more. “He seems a rather private man, and independent. Perhaps he doesn’t even know how to ask for help.”

 “We’ve been together for 30 years”, Ed sniffles, and Stede can’t tell if he means relationship-together or coworkers-together. He wants to say the latter, but that would just be lying  to himself. It’s clear to everyone that there was at least a bit of the former, and more likely a lot. “Should be able to tell when something’s wrong even if he’s hiding it. He could always tell when I was down.”

And proceeded to force you into the role he wanted you to perform instead of making it better, Stede thinks bitterly, but doubts will ever say out loud.

 “Like I said, I highly doubt he wanted you to know. You’ve known each other long enough to know how to hide things from each other.”

 “Not me”, Ed mutters, still intent on blaming himself. He’s not in the mood to be fully comforted, but hopefully later he will allow Stede to make him see sense. But for now, all he can do is keep petting Ed’s hair the way he likes it. Izzy probably never did that. He doesn’t seem like a man who’s good at intimacy.

 “What’s done is done. You can’t go back in time to stop him, and he can’t go back in time to stop himself from wanting it”, Stede says softly. “Take it from me - I’ve recently learned a hard lesson in regrets and do-overs. When you can’t stop something from happening, the only thing you can do is try to make up for it. Be there for him now. Give him attention, let him know you want him here, open up about how you feel.”

 “He wouldn’t want any of that”, Ed sniffles stubbornly. Stede suppresses the annoyed sigh and keeps the soft tone he’s been using a lot lately.

 “I didn’t want Mary trying to kill me, but it turned out to be exactly what I needed.” A harsh reality check, one that finally solidified to Stede what he needs and wants, and what Ed and the others deserve.

After Ed calmed down, he went to the galley to help Roach out with lunch preparations. Stede idled on the deck for an hour, chatting with the crew and convincing Lucius not to storm the captains’ cabin, then spent a few more in the rec center with Frenchie teaching him the lute. The end result is Stede learning nothing but mnemonic devices to which note sounds like which cat screech, either due to himself being wholly ungifted in the musical department, or Frenchie being the same in the teaching department.

After many a no, it’s more like a black cat yowl and it’s actually the opposite, but that’s how I learned to remember it lunch time arrives, and Stede decides Izzy had enough time to get over his pride and  finish his breakfast in peace. Or better yet, sneak out and off the ship. His confrontational attitude isn’t doing him any favors, even at his lowest point he insists on making an enemy out of his caretakers. It makes Stede resent him even more than he used to, and pity him in equal measure. It’s hard to imagine him being happy, living like that.

And, well... They have proof of that now, don’t they?

Stede fetches a bowl of delicious-smelling lamb stew for Izzy, and takes notice of how little has changed in the cabin while Stede was away. Izzy’s arms are maybe a little more tightly wound around himself, the bandages around his neck are definitely grungier, but most notably, the food and water are still completely untouched. He must be sore and famished by now, laying down in the same position for several hours and not eating for over 24. And Roach’s potato pancakes are always mouth-watering! Stede finds them hard to resist even like this, cold and dry from hours of standing uncovered on a table.

 “Potatoes not to your liking?” Stede asks tentatively, and a little angry for the waste. Izzy only grunts quietly, not making clear if the problem was indeed the potatoes or just food in general.

 “Roach cooked excellent lamb stew for lunch, I’ve brought some for you. Why don’t you come sit at the table? Have some wine to go with it?”

 “No”. No elaboration, no anger, just a tired no. Like all the fight has been drained out of him.

 “But you must be hungry. You didn’t eat all day yesterday and it’s past noon.”

Another undecipherable grunt this time, not even a single word. Stede feels his heckles being raised, so he takes a deep breath and counts to ten, reminding himself about the circumstances that have raised the situation. That it can’t be easy for Izzy, either.

 “Should I give your portion to Lucius then? He was begging for seconds because it was so good.”

 “Do whatever you want.” Again sounding nothing but tired.

 “He’ll appreciate this, thank you.”

This time there isn’t even a grunt. It’s no secret they have started getting along, though Izzy does make a show of claiming it isn’t true. But the way he most often spends his free time talking with Lucius, and the way they often work on the logs together without griping, speaks with a louder volume. Word around ship is that Lucius is even teaching Izzy how to draw.

“You’re not as mean as you think.”

A scoff that should be mean, but is just resigned instead.

 “I noticed you chose a timing that would do the least damage. You’re very considerate, in your own way”, Stede continues, to prove his point.

 “Wasn’t for your benefit”, Izzy mutters, and it lacks all the usual malice. He sounds so worn out, and Stede feels a sting in his heart. It’s like Izzy’s given up. It’s already the second day, and he hasn’t had a single bite of food, or a drop of water, and he’s already wasting away from bloodloss. At this point, it might only be a matter of hours before he dies.

And maybe... that might very well be his plan. Since his attempt at active suicide failed, perhaps he thought to try his hand at a more passive method.

Stede has never felt so helpless. He doesn’t know what to do with a man who feels like that, what he can say to make life feel worth living. Especially when he doesn’t particularly care for the man! Even now, when Izzy is laying in bed wanting to die, Stede feels so annoyed! The man is just terrible at following orders, and responds even worse to positive reinforcement! He never has a kind word to say, his manners are horrible, and he lets good food go to waste!

 “Israel Hands”, he finally demands, having reached his breaking point, as Izzy keeps laying there with a scowl on his face, pointedly turned away from Stede. “What must I do to make you eat?”

 “You could try drowning yourself. Couldn’t hurt.”

 “Or I could sit here holding the spoon to your mouth for hours until you’re begging to be rid of me by any means necessary! Or better yet, I could get Ed to do it! You’ve never had trouble listening to him!”

Izzy barks a mean little laugh at that, and his expression turns bitter. Finally, a real reaction, but it only makes Stede feel worse about everything. He didn’t want this to turn ugly, he just wanted - something other than this, ugh!

 “He wouldn’t do it. He doesn’t fucking care whether I live or die.”

His voice is so tight it could strangle him. Again Stede feels a twinge of pity for the man.

 “Now, that’s not true and you know it. He jumped in after you and wouldn’t leave your side until you woke up”, he says softly. He’s not sure how lucid Izzy was when he first woke and how much he remembers, but he must at least know who fished him out of the ocean.

 “Yeah, and then he fucked off and left his fucking boyfriend to look after me.”

It’s a quiet statement, but Stede still flinches at it - Izzy is a bitter and angry man at the best of times, so it’s saying something when he sounds more bitter and angry than ever, and yet even then, an even greater sadness shines through now. He’s devastated that Ed isn’t here, that he’s been left alone with Stede, that he’s been abandoned all over again. “He stopped caring a fucking decade ago, and that’s why you’re here instead of him, because he doesn’t fucking give a shit what happens to me anymore.”

Stede used to think Izzy incapable of melancholy feelings, and certainly unable to produce tears. That he either must’ve been born without the emotions necessary for such things, or had starved such soft things out of himself, until  the only thing left was jealousy, sarcasm and resentment. He used to think that Izzy was human only in the meanest sense of the word.

And undeniably, Izzy is mean, and rude, and vitriolic. But underneath all that viciousness is someone who feels deeply betrayed, and is heartbroken enough to show weakness to his sworn enemy. He is, beyond a doubt, a human, just a man with stunted emotional growth.

 “Should’ve known I wasn’t special -” he starts, then abruptly stops himself, as if he didn’t meant to say anything. A wrecked sob escapes his lips, shaking Stede to the core. Izzy takes his reaction the wrong way, perhaps unintentionally, perhaps intentionally, to shield himself from being vulnerable, because he doesn’t know how to defend himself without attacking. “Laugh it up, in a few years it’ll be you bawling your eyes out like the stupid fucking pansy you are!” The venom of the words would hit harder, if the voice delivering them wasn’t so wet and broken that Stede found himself tearing up as well.

Stede is less shocked about himself reaching out to embrace the man than he is about Izzy accepting it. With the violent sobs rocking his body and his hands clutching at Stede’s coat, it’s solidified - Izzy Hands is no longer the necessary evil to having Ed around, he’s a real person in real pain, and Stede has never been good at ignoring such people.

 “He does care. He was terrified that you would die, I could scarcely get him to leave your side to get cleaned up. He couldn’t stop crying even after you woke up - he only left because he thought you wouldn’t want to see him like that. Weak, he means.” He keeps gently stroking Izzy’s back, who stays quiet until he can reign in the sobs enough to speak clearly. It takes several minutes, relaxing slightly in the process.

 “He’s right, I would’ve hated that”, he eventually mutters into Stede’s shoulder.

 “Crying isn’t a sign of weakness, you know. Do you think you’re weak just because you’re crying right now?” Stede says in his best fatherly tone, which might not be very good, objectively speaking -he was always a relatively distant father and doesn’t have much practice.

 “Obviously.”

It’s clear Izzy never had a flattering opinion of himself, with all his posturing that tries so desperately to command respect and how he needs to put others down to feel better about himself, but it is surprising he would admit it like this, and to Stede no less. And Stede isn’t a stranger to such feelings - he has so often been the target of such tactics, and he knows how hard it is to let go of pride. His bullies would never have admitted it like this.

He tries another approach.

 “Well, do you think Ed is weak because he cries sometimes?”

 “It’s different for him, it’s just for the moment.”

 “It’s not different. You are both strong men who have strong feelings.”

 “The fuck is this sissy bullshit”, Izzy grumbles, but notably doesn’t pull away. Some minutes pass in silence, Stede petting his back and hair, while Izzy wills himself to calm down, and then reluctantly lets go.

 “Don’t think this changes anything”, he sniffles, trying for menacing. Stede offers him a handkerchief, which Izzy ignores in favor of his own sleeve. Because apparently it’s more manly to walk around in snotty clothes. “I still hate you.”

 “The feeling isn’t mutual”, Stede says honestly, and tries to let it show in voice. “Should I ask Ed to come in?”

 “No - I don’t want him to see me like this”, Izzy sighs, bone-tired. He runs a hand through his dirty, mussed-up hair to get it out of his eyes. His beard is also untidy. His clothes are disheveled and smell terrible. He’s the very image of a depressive episode, seeing him now you’d never know how hygienic he usually is. “Give me a moment.”

 “I can ask him to come in half an hour?”

 “Yeah, okay.”

Stede smiles warmly at him, and Izzy almost answers in kind. He catches himself just in time, though.

Perhaps it’s a good thing, even, Stede isn’t sure if his heart could handle that on top of all the other feelings in such a short amount of time. He gets up to leave, remembers filling the wash basin after his own morning routine, and thinks Izzy might want to use it to fix himself up a bit before seeing Ed - he is a stickler for keeping up appearances. “Feel free to use the wash basin, the water’s clean”, Stede says on his way out, and Izzy mumbles something he can’t quite catch.

 “Sorry?”

 “Nothing. Fuck off.”

Ed is mending the sails on deck with Wee John. His sewing is improving by leaps and bounds under Wee John’s tutelage, so much so that he’s been talking about making some alterations to his wardrobe - some seam adjustments here, an embroidered detail there. Just small things for now.

He greets Stede with a kiss.

 “How is he?”

Stede looks at Wee John, unsure if they should be talking about Izzy with him there. But since John makes no move to leave, and Ed seems equally content staying in place...

 “Getting better, I think. Should be up and moving about by now. You should go talk with him.”

Ed looks both hopeful and apprehensive. His sewing stills.

 “Do you think he’d want to see me?” he asks quietly. “I mean, I’m still - like this. And I look like a mess.”

Ed is being too harsh on himself, he doesn’t look all that bad. A bit frazzled, a little frayed at the edges maybe, but it could be all be tacked up to a few sleepless nights. Stede is sure he doesn’t look half as bad he feels.

 “He asked to see you, so yes.” Stede takes another look at Wee John, and decides Izzy would want some things to stay private. “We should drop by his cabin, first. He was asking for some of his things.”

 “Sure. I’ll get back to the sails as soon as I can”, Ed says to John, who nods in understanding and sympathy. He was among the first to forgive Ed, and has become a sort of confidante as well as mentor. He’s well-liked among the crew, and having his goodwill made the transition from the Kraken back to Ed much easier.

The walk to Izzy’s cabin - originally a linen closet for Mary, then a half-finished private cabin, before being abandoned as an empty storage room - is quiet except for Ed’s heavy sighing as he tries to gather himself.

Stede closes the door behind them, and the room goes dark - he’s forced to reopen the door so he can see enough to light a candle. They really should do something about the lighting situation now that someone has taken up residence.

 “He didn’t actually ask me to bring anything.”

 “I figured, he doesn’t really own a lot of stuff. He’s wearing most of it. And I doubted you would’ve agreed to bring him anything sharp yet”, Ed says, throwing a look at Izzy’s sword - set on top of his neatly made bed, deliberately on display. Before, Stede would’ve said it was some kind of threat, or a reference to a promise Ed had broken, but now he’s not too sure - could just be a memento.

 “He cried. Thought you didn’t care, that you abandoned him and left me in charge of him because you couldn’t be bothered.”

For several seconds Ed only looks shocked - Stede isn’t surprised, after all Stede only learned Izzy was capable of tears minutes ago. It’s likely Ed hasn’t seen Izzy in tears in years, perhaps never. “Fuck”, Ed eventually mutters.

 “Of course I told him it wasn’t like that.. And you were right - he admitted he would’ve hated seeing you crying.”

 “Good old Izzy”, Ed tries to laugh but it comes out too wet to be anything but a sob. “Better get a hold of myself, then.” He brushes his hair out of his face and straightens his shirt. His face doesn’t look any better, though.

 “You have some time. He asked for half an hour to clean himself up.” Stede hesitates for a while, wondering if he’s already revealed too much about Izzy’s state since he clearly wanted to conceal the worst of it - but it might do them both good to have concrete evidence of the effect they had on each other. If Izzy is worried that Ed doesn’t care for him, surely it would reassure him to see Ed not at his best? And shouldn’t it also be good for Ed to see what a strong effect he has on Izzy in turn? Having them both be more honest and open to each other couldn’t possibly hurt. If you asked Stede, an honest, deep conversation about what they meant to each other would’ve nipped a lot of problems in the bud. He should encourage them to have one. Once things calm down a little and Izzy stops feeling so defensive.

 “You could brush my hair, then?” Ed suggests. He likes having his hair played with - he almost starts purring like a cat when he gets a good brushing.

 “Left your brush in the captains’ cabin, I don’t want to interrupt Izzy. Maybe you could ask him to do it.”

It’s... a bit scandalous, now that Stede hears it out loud. Brushing someone’s hair can be  a fairly intimate affair, after all.

 “Guess the hair can wait”, Ed sighs. “Does it look terrible?”

 “It looks just right, like the rest of you.”

In the end, Ed asks Stede to comb his hair with his fingers, to get the worst tangles out. They speak some quiet, reassuring words, then make the trek to great cabin, and Ed makes one final deep sigh, straightens himself out, and goes in without knocking. Stede stays outside, pacing nervously.

The urge to eavesdrop is strong as an ox, but Stede takes it by the horns, and after a few minutes wrenches himself away from the door. Even if Izzy is his patient, and Ed is his lover, and they have some history together, they have the right to privacy. They don’t need a chaperone for a conversation when they’re both feeling so vulnerable, and timid, and... Oh God, the words vulnerable and Izzy can’t be a good combination! A vulnerable Izzy is a defensive Izzy, and defensive Izzy is an aggressive Izzy! They really should have someone mediating the conversation, to make sure words won’t be misinterpreted or - or meant, in the heat of the moment!

With his hand already on the handle, Stede finds resolve again. This is a private matter, something Izzy needs solved with Ed, and only Ed. He won’t believe anything Ed says if Stede is there to meddle and guide, thinking it would all be orchestrated. If it gets messy, so be it - but it would be a messy Izzy could accept as the truth. And if he doesn’t want to hear it, well, then he’ll just have to ignore it and learn how to to live while being miserable.

...unless he decides against ignoring and instead fights back with something truly terrible  and then Ed will be a wreck for God knows how long, and they’ll have to either throw Izzy overboard or wait for him to do it himself, and -

Oh for heaven’s sake, they’re both adults, they can handle some real talk even if it wounds them and maybe it’ll leave permanent scars or maybe it’ll cut too deep and then Ed will cutting off another toe or Izzy will be stabbing himself in the neck and jumping off the railing all over again and -

Ah. There comes Ed. Unwounded, calm. Exhausted, but calm.

 “Stede, love, have you been pacing up and down the hallway this whole time?”

 “Ah, well - I was terribly worried about Izzy - and you. He was still quite shaken up when I left - you know what  he’s like, I’m sure.”

 “I do.” Ed grins lopsidedly and ruffles Stede’s hair. “Known the man for thirty years, after all. No need to worry - he kept his fangs in check. I did, too.”

Dear God, does Stede love him, but the things he’s capable of sometimes... He isn’t sure if their relationship could survive another maiming.

 “He’ll be okay”, Ed says, with a small sad smile, and then leaves. To work, perhaps, or just to take a moment for himself, or whatever. Ed is alright - Stede has to see how Izzy is doing.

He steps inside, and sees Izzy’s finally up from the bed. He’s sitting at the table, remains of his lunch in front of him on the table, staring through the table into nothingness. He looks so much more like he used to, hair slicked back, cravat and ring place, single glove on his hand. Even with the dirty bandages very visible around his neck, he feels like a familiar sight again, of something you try to avoid because it stirs up bad memories. But his face gives Stede pause -not even the beginnings of a scowl, just a thoughtful frown.

 “Did you have a good talk?” Stede asks carefully.

 “He thought I was jumping ship. Try to find a new captain. Or become captain myself”, Izzy says, puzzled, continuing to stare into that empty space, talking more to himself than to Stede. He doesn’t know how to answer, or if he’s even supposed to. The frown on Izzy’s face deepens, morphing from thoughtful to the beginnings of angry.

 “He should know me better than that”, he continues still into that empty spot of table, hands curling into fists. “I chose him over Sam. It’s been 25 years, he should know better. That I stick with my choices.”

Stede should ask Ed about this captain Sam, he doesn’t remember hearing about him before. He always thought they sailed under captain Benjamin Hornigold before striking out on their own.

 “He told me you’ve threatened to leave before. But you always came back, that you were never serious. And this was the first time you tried to do it in secret, so he thought you really did want to leave this time.”

Izzy falls silent, looking very lost. Stede looks on helplessly, feeling like he should offer a shoulder to lean on, or rub his back, or something, but now that he looks like... well, himself again Stede’s scared to get too close. He’s been bit too many times.

 “I did want to leave this time”, Izzy says quietly, and while he still looks like the old Izzy, he sounds nothing like him. The old Izzy was sharp, mean and derisive, he was never wounded. Or more likely... he just hadn’t let it show.

 “We haven’t given you much reason to want to stay”, Stede admits, and Izzy looks at him like he just grew another, suspicious head. He knows he hasn’t treated Izzy kindly, but he could hardly be blamed for it, could he? And more importantly, hasn’t he showed that he’s willing to forgive and start over?

 “Have you been drilling what to say? Is the crew gonna say the same fucking bullshit as you two?” Just like that, Izzy’s gone from wounded to wounding again. Stede can’t tell what has triggered the reversal, so the only thing he can do is stay honest.

 “We haven’t said a word to the crew. Of course they know you’re in here, but nothing else.”

 “Yeah, right. Bet Spriggs has been gossiping everyone’s ears off -”

 “Lucius came by a few times to ask how you were doing, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted him to know. So I said you’d tell him yourself if you wanted.”

 “Why the hell would I want to tell that fairy anything”, Izzy grumbles.

 “Because he’s been worried.”

 “He’s been waiting for a chance to make fun of me. He can’t wait to shove this in my face.”

Stede sighs in annoyance. Izzy is a stubborn miser who can’t even accept his friends worrying over him, he just has to twist it into something negative. Training him out of this habit is going to take a lot of time and effort.

 “If you can’t accept the truth, then perhaps I could interest you in some roleplay. I’ll be Stede Bonnet, a gentleman pirate -”

 “What the fuck -”

 “-who is graciously taking care of you, even if we don’t see eye to eye. And you’ll be Izzy Hands, a fearsome cutthroat who has noticed no one has come in to make fun of him, so he can relax and let himself be taken care of.”

Izzy eyes him suspiciously, but he can’t argue with the facts. Since he first woke up, the only person to come in has been Ed, and only out of Izzy’s request.

 “You don’t need to believe any of this, just play along to make Ed happy.” And your own life easier.

 “You’re a nutcase”, Izzy huffs and shakes his head, but there’s something amused in his expression. Encouraged by the change in atmosphere, Stede changes the subject to something that has been bothering him the whole morning.

 “I disagree. And I also disagree with the state of your bandages! You should’ve had Ed change them.”

 “I can do that myself. Just didn’t have time.”

It’s very possible he could, but the cut is high up on his neck, and he’d have to stretch the skin to see it properly. Stede might not know much about tending to wounds, but that doesn’t sound like a good idea.

 “I wouldn’t doubt that, but as per our role playing deal, the Gentleman Pirate takes good care of his guests, and even better care of his patients.”

Izzy lets an amused smirk slip out for just a second, then catches himself and just grumbles him to go on with it then, and unknots his cravat to set it on the table, making a loose knot to keep the ring safe.  It’s a fairly simple, thin band of gold with a small gem in the middle, probably an emerald. Not terribly valuable, but quality work.

Izzy ends up having to instruct Stede the whole way through - to wet the bandages first, since the dried blood makes the layers stick to each other and the skin, what signs point to a healing wound and which ones to an infection, how to clean the wound to make it least painful, how to wind the new bandages so they don’t slip and fall. He’s a surprisingly good teacher when he feels like it - he explains how and why, instead of his usual style of just snapping at Stede and offering no explanation on what he’s doing wrong and why it matters. Stede almost comments on it, but since they’re on shaky ground, it might not go over well.

The whole time Izzy does his best to wince, but for the moment being his best is not very good. No doubt he’ll get himself back in check in a few days, once the raw emotions have had time to scab over, along with the wound on his neck. At one point, a particularly stubborn splash of blood lets go with a sudden snap, and Izzy’s lets out a noise like a kicked dog, and his eyes go watery and he bites his lip. That’s one of the few noises he makes - mostly it’s sudden gasps and holding his breath while screwing his eyes shut. Stede doesn’t comment on any of it, thinking it might be for the best to let Izzy pretend his attempts are fooling Stede. Let him salvage whatever tiny amount of pointless pride he has left.

Once all the bandages are off, Stede takes in the wound and tries to use Izzy’s advice to assess its state - it looks ugly, is what he can tell, but not really anything else. The skin is red and puffy, the edges of the wound purple and undulate unevenly, but at least there doesn’t seem to be any pus on the old bandages, just blood. The stitches are uneven and pull on the skin - Roach had been in a hurry to do them, less interested in a neat end result and more with stopping the profuse bleeding. It’s going to make a long and very visible scar, starting from under his left ear, all the way middle of his throat. He’ll be a man forever marked by that scar - too high up to effectively hide with a cravat or scarf.

Speaking of cravats - “Maybe you should leave off the cravat until the wound has healed.”

Izzy stays silent, letting Stede finish putting on the new bandages, and then agrees with a defeated sigh. He takes the ring, and first tries fitting it on his left pinky - too loose, it would fall. He then gives Stede a warning look as he puts it on his left ring finger - it fits near perfectly. Stede says nothing about it. Not his business why Izzy is so bent on wearing it at all times, even less where he decides to wear it. Might be a family heirloom. Quite possibly the only thing of value his family had owned, as Ed had implied Izzy hailed from an equally, if not even more, humble background as him.

Satisfied that Stede has heeded the warning, Izzy gets up from his chair, noticeably stiff, and Stede rushes forward to steady him somehow, but ends up hovering awkwardly at an arm’s length because he doubts Izzy would appreciate the help.

 “Do you still have the cane? Should I bring it?”

 “Don’t need the bloody cane. Just been lying down too long, need to stretch my legs.”

And sure enough, after a few steps, his movements are more fluent. He does a few surreptitious stretches, but with Stede watching him like a hawk they don’t go unnoticed.

 “How’s everything on deck?”

 “Nothing out of the ordinary. You could come take a look?”

 “So everything’s shit as usual”, Izzy grumbles, and walks out, Stede following without word. He seems well enough now, with food inside him and the new bandages, but clearly he still feels weak - he struggles just a little bit with balance, leans on the walls a little too often. Not that he would ever admit it, and Stede isn’t sure if anyone else would notice since they probably wouldn’t be watching him so closely. Aside from Roach and Lucius, possibly.

The deck is sunny and warm. Izzy shields his eyes from the sudden brightness, and takes in the sight. Most of the crew is on deck, some of them working on their chores, others just spending time. Izzy clicks his tongue at them, and Stede sees the scowl fast forming on his face - he silences it before the litany of curses, insults and bossing around can start.

 “Remember - you’re grateful none of them came to make fun of you. Actually they were all worried.” Well, perhaps not all of them, but the majority. Which isn’t a bad percentage, considering how badly Izzy has treated them all. Izzy scoffs, but does stay quiet, so Stede’s words must’ve counted for something.

Unsurprisingly, Lucius notices them first, as he’s sitting on a barrel close to the door.

 “Izzy! You’re up already? I thought for sure you’d be bedridden for weeks!”

 “It was nothing. Like I’d be laid up for just a scratch.”

Lucius sighs in relief, then gives Izzy a crooked smile. “So... you’re bragging about doing a bad job of stabbing yourself?”

Stede can’t help the grin and has to hide it behind his hand. Izzy is left floundering for an answer.

 “Oh, fuck off, you know what I mean.”

 “Not really. But I’m glad you’re okay. Stede wouldn’t tell us anything, and he even refused to let me in to see you -” he shoots a dirty look Stede’s way - ”so the only news we had came from Roach. I was worried sick, thinking you’d kick the bucket!”

Izzy looks at him in confusion for several seconds, then moves on to look at Stede in that same confusion.

 “Told you”, Stede reminds him. Why exactly Izzy would be so perplexed by his friend being worried for his life is beyond him, but he doesn’t mind reminding Izzy about the people who care about him. Izzy dodges the statement, going back to something he’s more familiar with - complaining.

 “Who the hell did the rigging? Fucking shitty work. And there’s rope all over the deck. Do I even want to see the gun deck?”

 “Excuse you, the gun deck is in excellent condition!” Black Pete pipes up.

Jim looks on, annoyed, and says something to Oluwande, Buttons takes it all in stride, and Frenchie does his best to stay inconspicuous

 “Jeez, not even 5 minutes back on duty and you’re already back on your bullshit”, Lucius half complains and half laughs. He slaps Izzy’s back, and clearly takes notice of how Izzy has to rebalance himself.

 “Actually, he’s not back on duty yet”, Stede points out. “He’s still recovering, although making great progress. So -” a meaningful look at Izzy - “please carry on, as you were.”

 “The ship has gone to shit -” Izzy starts, but Stede shushes him, and he actually does quiet down! He makes a theatrical sigh and backs up to the railing, trying to make it nonchalant, but both Stede and Lucius see it for what it really is.

 “Should I get your cane?” Lucius asks quietly. Izzy rubs his forehead, but eventually nods. Lucius goes without another word.

After Lucius comes back with the cane, the two fall into conversation. Izzy seems content with this, so Stede falls behind and watches them make a slow round of the deck. It’s a nice sight - for both their sakes. Izzy having back some of his spunk, and Lucius able to relax now that he’s witnessed his friend is on the mend. Izzy is doing his very best to pretend the cane isn’t there, and Lucius walks on the cane side, possibly to aid in hiding the offensive aid in question. Needless to say, everyone sees it regardless. Stede appreciates them not commenting on it, even though a few do a double take. The vast majority of them haven’t even heard about the cane before - apparently Izzy had abandoned the cane after only a few days after getting his toe cut off. It must’ve still hurt like hell, throbbed horribly with every step, but he’d still insisted on appearing as unaffected as possible. The fact that Izzy deigns to look hurt in any way now speaks volumes about his state.

That’s why Stede feels somewhat guilty about thinking it’s a good look on him - a bit more dandy and gentlemanly. It adds a little something to his silver-haired charm. At least until the cursing stripped away most of it.

As the pair pass Stede to go below deck - presumably to the gun deck, as Stede catches a rather colorful snippet of the litany of weaponry Lucius could stick up his arse - he feels safe to leave them alone. Lucius has a much thicker skin and deeper well of patience than Stede, and he’s listening the tirade with an amused smirk. He will later give Izzy a dose of his own medicine.

Stede goes looking for Ed - they need to talk about what to do with Izzy now that the immediate danger has passed.

Stede makes a full round of the ship, not finding Ed, until he gives up and goes back the their cabin, not happy that they’ll have to postpone talking about Izzy. He’s surprised to find Ed in the cabin, dressed in his favorite banyan, laying in a cocoon of blankets on the bed.

While Stede wants to give him the space and time to deal with whatever’s going on with him, not finding a way to get Izzy back on track will be even more detrimental to both than prodding at Ed’s fresh wounds.

So he get’s Ed’s hairbrush - best to butter him up a bit first, to ease the sting that would soon come.

Wordlessly, they enjoy the brushing, but Ed doesn't do his usual near-purring. He must know what's about to happen.

 “Darling”, Stede begins tentatively, brush still smoothing out Ed's hair. It's coarse - Stede should find some oils next they're in port, his own hair is also getting rough with all the salt air.

 “Yeah, love?” is the answer, equally hesitant.

 “We need to make Izzy feel useful”, Stede says. Even he, who avoids Izzy at every opportunity, has noticed that the man doesn’t know how to handle idleness. If they want to make Izzy feel better, they need to give him a job.

Ed looks ashamed, and before Stede can stop him from putting himself down even further, Ed asks in a worried tone: “Do you think we should make him fist mate again?”

 “No, the crew wouldn’t accept that. He treated them rather horribly I’ve heard. And seen actually.”

He likes to think Izzy treated his own crew better than the crew of his one-sided nemesis, but he wouldn’t bet on it. He also likes to think Ed would’ve stopped him from being truly horrible, but he wouldn’t bet on that, either.

 “Well he’s been complaining about the rigging the whole time. Think we could work something out with that?”

That makes a lot of sense, actually. Handling the rigging is a complicated job, and no one on board has that much experience with it - Buttons has mostly worked with gaff rigs, which is apparently different from whatever the Revenge has, don’t ask Stede, he just owns the ship - so he isn’t too much help. The fact that Izzy knows to complain about the rigging suggests he knows what’s wrong with it and could do it better.

 “His first words after getting on deck today was to complain about the rigging.”

 “He’s gotta still be nimble enough to climb up and down ropes. I mean I haven’t seen him do it in years but you’ve seen how he moves, right?” Ed looks sheepish as he says this. Stede has a feeling he knows why - the toe. To be honest, Stede sometimes forgets about it, since it doesn’t seem to have affected Izzy’s walking. And he wouldn’t even be stepping with his toes on rope ladders up in the rigging. Right? Stede takes a moment to think of how he climbs a ladder - no, no toes in play. Should be fine. But Ed looks so worried so maybe it isn’t? He knows infinitely more about ship maintenance than Stede does.

 “Do you think he - uhm, his feet might be clumsier these days”, Stede eventually says, hoping Ed will make the decision for him. He must know better. “Would it be dangerous?”

A complicated look passes on Ed’s face, as always when the toe comes up. It’s a complicated subject for all parties.

 “We could really use a rigger”, Stede says carefully. Ed will say if Izzy isn’t suitable, and suggest someone else, surely. “She’s not moving half as nimbly as she could if the sails and ropes were up properly.”

 “They’re called lines, actually. And Iz should do fine.” A worried pause. “If he doesn’t think it’s beneath him. He’s been an officer for a long time.”

 “I have a feeling he’ll think it’s better than doing nothing.” But it’s yet another thing he wouldn’t bet on.

Stede gives Ed a reassuring smile, and they start hashing out the details - how to break the news both to the crew and Izzy himself, what exactly Izzy’s duties would entail, what he would and would not be allowed, et cetera. They reach an understanding soon enough, Ed’s mood rising quickly, until he’s well enough to decide a roll in the hay is just what they need to celebrate this new development. They don’t emerge from the captains’ cabin until after dinnertime, take a leisurely stroll around deck, then go to find Izzy.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Izzy has already moved back to his own cabin. While it’s nice that it means Stede gets to sleep with Ed again, he can’t help but be worried about... relapses, or something. He would’ve preferred Izzy staying under his watch for one more night, at least. Especially considering the proposal he’s about to hear.

 “I hope we didn’t interrupt anything”, Stede apologizes, as it seems Izzy was in the middle of writing something. Logs, perhaps, or a journal. After hearing that the vast majority of pirates were illiterate, including most of his own crew, Stede had been surprised to hear that Izzy was not only literate, but fluent, even. Though he apparently doesn’t much care for prose or poetry.

 “Captain’s privilege”, Izzy grunts sarcastically. “So. You come to run your mouth about being sorry and shit again?”

Ugh, why does he have to be so crude?

 “Actually, Izzy, I’ve been thinking and talking with Ed... about your duties.” This is a serious gambit - if he takes it badly, there’s little stopping him from making absolutely certain nothing will save his life this time. But if he sees it as a promotion from having no actual position in the hierarchy, then he might see it as a reason to really live again and start working his way back up the ranks.

Ed clears his throat, and starts carefully. “Since we already have a first mate -” of a sorts anyway, since Stede doesn’t believe in rigid hierarchies and everyone is of less or more equal rank. It’s just that Buttons has easily the most experience, so he was the natural choice. “- but none of us is an expert at rigging, like you -” just a bit of flattery, there, even Stede knows Izzy isn’t an actual expert even if he is more of an expert than anyone else, even Ed. “- we were hoping you could take over as the rigger?” It’s not a position that holds any power, which is why this is such a dangerous proposal, and Izzy does look a bit sour.

Maybe that’s why Ed starts improvising, because he certainly hadn’t cleared the next part with Stede. “Or you could train someone else how to do it properly? You could probably train us in all sorts of tasks, to be honest. Swordfighting, for example! I know many of could use lessons.” He throws an apologetic look at Stede. No hard feelings, Stede knows he’s still bad at dealing with anything sharp.

 “So you basically want me to be your errand boy, fixing whatever these useless shits do wrong”, Izzy frowns, of course taking it badly. Or even choosing to take it badly. Because why would Stede ever have thought he would take an olive branch in the way it was meant?

 “You’d be teaching them so it wouldn’t be done badly in the first place”, Stede corrects. “But mostly we want a rigger. And a sword instructor, if you’re so inclined.”

Izzy scoffs confrontationally. “It’ll take years whipping these idiots into shape. And the rigging isn’t an easy job, which is why it’s always done so shit. I’ve basically been the rigger this whole time already.”

 “But would you be willing to do it officially?” Stede pushes.

A sniff that pretends to be indifferent, but in context it sounds grateful.

 “I’ll think about it.” A heavy silence. “Who’s gonna make sure everything else is up to snuff, then?”

Ed’s face spreads into a smile, and he ruffles Izzy’s hair. He shoos the hand away immediately, but Stede can see the smile he tries to hide.

 “That would be all of us, together.” Stede knows to expect the sarcastic scoff and eye-roll, so he’s not overly offended. Ed gives Izzy a noogie, causing a short struggle. “We all learn from each other, and we talk things through to solve our problems. We’ll be expecting you to take part in group activities, as well. They build team spirit.”

 “The captain isn’t supposed to be part of the team”, Izzy whines.

 “Preposterous! The captain is as much part of the crew as the rest!”

 “As is the rigger”, Ed says pointedly, and Izzy wilts a little.

 “I draw the line at hugging. And don’t expect me to fucking cry about feelings and shit. Fucking pansies, the lot of you.”

 “Ed likes the talk circles”, Stede reminds him, and predictably Izzy deflects it with an It’s different.

Ed stays to talk through the specifics with Izzy, as they had agreed, and Stede goes to announce the news and begin storytime. There’s nervous whispering among the crew before he can even clear his throat, but it quiets quickly as he starts talking.

 “As some of you may have noticed, Mr. Hands has made a full recovery and will be returning to duty tomorrow. He has agreed to take over as the rigger, and will be teaching some of you the ropes, so to speak.” No one even chuckles at his pun. Stede hopes it ‘s only because everyone is too distracted by the news, and not because of their vocabular shortcomings. “This does not mean he has any authority to boss any of you around, or to berate anyone of doing a bad job, so if you encounter such behavior, please report it to either me or Ed right away. Remember - we have a zero-tolerance on bullying on this ship.”

His rehearsed speech goes well, now he can only hope Izzy’s re-introduction to the crew will go equally well. He’s already shown progress with Stede, so he’s fairly confident they will have only some trouble. Asking for none would be too much. And then there’s the fact of Izzy having to adapt to a non-hierarchical power structure on top of learning how to play nice.

There was some murmuring among the crew, and one clear objection of Never stopped him from bullying us before, but the chatter dies down pretty quickly when Stede raises his hand, asking for silence. “Now, I expect he will be quite prickly for a while, but I ask you all to be patient with him. He’s been having a hard time, and showing kindness will doubtless help with acclimating to his new position.”

 “The same way he showed kindness to us?” a certain someone quips, and no, Stede will not providing their name. Complaints are handled in confidentiality on his ship.

 “I understand some of us -” well that’s a bit of understatement, isn’t it. “- most of us -” still not quite the truth. “- all of us have had our grievances and troubles with him, but I assure you, he isn’t incapable of change.”

 “Seconded!” Lucius helpfully announces, and Black Pete agrees with a small, begrudging nod of his head.

 “Thank you, I’m sure he would appreciate your support. And did we not support Jim when they turned out to be what they claimed? And even more so, haven’t we all forgiven Ed for all he did to us?”

Some more murmuring, and one loud dissent of I haven’t! Ed’s charming and repentant enough to have been accepted back into the crew fairly quickly even after the horrible way he treated everyone, but clearly some still hold resentment.

After a while, Oluwande speaks up. “If he behaves himself, then we have no problem having him as part of the crew. But if he keeps acting like an asshole then we’ll hold you accountable for punishing him. No more letting him get away with anything just because Ed has history with him.”

Ed might have been crueler to Izzy than anyone else during the Kraken period as they’ve come to call it, but after the attempted suicide he would find it extremely hard to hurt Izzy in any way. Stede hopes this won’t prevent him from using stern words if warranted.

 “I would expect nothing less”, Stede assures them all, sounding more sure than he feels. He has a duty to these people, after all, even if he has a history of folding under mean words. And Izzy is very good at mean words. “We only ask that you give him a chance and treat him fairly. And naturally we will require the same of him.”

[edactually]

Ed POV 2.1

Maybe Ed should have taken Izzy’s concerns more seriously. He’d finally crawled into bed around two am after Buttons had dropped him off so he missed the pandemonium as it was unfolding, but by the time he was checking his phone in the early afternoon, he realised how much he’d fucked up.

Countless videos of the incident from every conceivable angle invaded his feed. He’d been so concerned with checking on Stede that he really hadn’t put any thought into his announcement to the crowd and watching it back, he could admit that it came across as pretty callous to all the people who had parted with their hard-earned cash just to see the band perform. 

He watched video after video of Stede getting carried away unconscious on that stretcher, his face pale and drawn.

If he were able to go back in time, he would have done the same again. Might have chosen his words a little more carefully, but there was no way he would have gotten back up there and performed a full concert with Stede unconscious backstage.

Time to do some damage control then.

His calls to Izzy went unanswered. Fair, given how they’d left things, but as the band’s de facto manager, he really did need Izzy’s input to decide how things were going to work. After the tenth attempt went ignored, Ed called Ivan instead, who actually answered.

“Iz said we’re not supposed to talk to you.”

“Shouldn’t have answered the phone then.” He dropped down onto his couch and flipped himself upside down so his head was lolling over the edge of the seat and his feet dangled over the back of it. “He with you now?”

“Left about twenty minutes ago. Fang’s here though.”

He heard a “Hiya BB!” in the background in Fang’s usual cheerful tone. He was the only one who could get away with calling Ed by that nickname, and he was glad to hear that their drummer was still in good spirits. Izzy hadn’t managed to turn Fang against him at least.

“So, what’s Izzy’s plan?”

Ivan sounded uncomfortable. “What makes you think he has a plan?”

“Does he?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Izzy might have handled all the bullshit that Ed couldn’t be bothered with, but when it came to the respect and loyalty of their bandmates, that trophy went straight to Ed, despite Izzy suggesting his selfishness made it otherwise. Evidently, Ed still commanded that loyalty despite last night’s antics as Ivan launched into an explanation.

“He’s going to talk to all the venues on the tour, get them to send out emails to all the ticket holders with a guarantee that they get a full refund if the show is cancelled for any reason, not just the unavoidable stuff they’d normally get refunds for.”

Hmm. Good start. “What about the cancelled show last night? Refunds or rescheduling?”

“Rescheduled. That’s where he is now, talking to the owner of the venue to figure out when we can stage a rescheduled show. All original tickets will still be valid, refunds for anyone who can’t make the new date.”

That wouldn’t please every fan, but it would have to be enough. Typical Izzy to go straight into rescheduling the show without even asking Ed if he wanted to do it again. Supposed he had to, for the sake of the band and the sake of not ripping off the fans. “Did he tell you he quit the band?”

Ivan huffed. “Yeah, what number is that?”

“Think this is the hundredth time he’s threatened to quit? We should get him a cake.”

“If there’s any cake you should be buying, it’s an apology one.”

Ed sighed and shifted himself to sit upright as the blood was rushing to his head. “I know. I should have talked to you guys before calling everything off like that, but the guy dropped in front of me like a sack of hammers! I was worried.”

“I get it. Fang and I talked and we both agreed we would have stopped the show as well. We just wish you’d talked to us first. Izzy’s on the warpath though, he’s setting the fans on that poor guy like a pack of hyenas.”

Now the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on edge. “He’s doing what?”

“We’ve not made an official statement yet so the fans are angry and want someone to blame while they wait for answers. There were so many videos going round of the guy that fainted and you can hear the people he’s with calling out his name so Iz did some digging and found out his full name, posted it online using a fake account, and now everyone’s yelling at him for the time being. Don’t know how Iz got the info, Steve is a pretty common name—”

“Stede.”

“Stede, right. That makes more sense. Everyone’s blaming him for the show getting called off. He’s being torn apart online. I don’t like that Izzy is using this guy as a distraction until we get our shit together but it’s working.”

Ed had to hold the phone away from his ear while he took several deep breaths in and out, just like his therapist taught him. In through the nose for four seconds, hold for seven, breathe out through the mouth for eight. 

When he did return to the call, Ivan sounded so panicked that he figured he was minutes away from charging over to his apartment.

“What’s Stede’s full name, Ivan?”

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[blackhannetandco]

Ok so this post was getting super long but I still have things to say thanks to @calicojackofficial's tags on it so here is part 2 of steddy hands oblivious seduction circle.

Here are the tags, which reference Izzy giving Stede a glove the way we are assuming Ed gave Izzy The Ring and Stede gave Ed The Cravat:

Ok first of all love that pretty much everyone knows what it means that Stede insists on wearing the glove except for Izzy. Like even Stede realizes, and Stede has never met a non-fear emotion he couldn't pack away and ignore. What's extra funny is that somehow I think if The Token was something more subtle, like the ring or the cravat, Izzy might sort of catch on? Because that's what he's used to, he comes from the world of subtext so he's more adept at reading homoerotic tones than he is at reading full on gay vibes, at least when they're directed at him. Stede wearing the glove is so in your face that he automatically dismisses it/underestimates the meaning. He honestly kind of assumes Stede is trying to make it part of his Gentleman Pirate Aesthetic, and as someone who commits to his own Aesthetic pretty damn hard, he can respect that, even if he does think it's stupid af that Stede refuses to commit enough to stop complaining lol.

Second of all, YES especially Ed. Ed, who knows what the cravat means to him. Ed, who didn't know the ring's significance for like two decades but has finally caught on because he now has his own token that he acknowledges he cherishes with his life. (I am always going feral over Ed realizing Izzy loves him and that he loves Izzy directly because he fell in love with Stede and in the process learned how to be vulnerable with himself.) So Ed Knows and like, he thinks Stede might know? Stede can be incredibly oblivious so he's not sure but then he catches Stede just like, absent-mindedly rubbing his leather clad palm with his thumb, smiling to himself and staring off into the distance (because we must always have a Moment where Stede looks like a Romantic Hero). And Ed is like, "Oh yeah he knows," but figures maybe he should let Stede come to him about it. Two days later he's climbing the walls with impatience and basically ambushes Stede with a feelings talk. Stede is both a little scared and very proud (and yes, horny but that's a given).

It still takes forever for them to approach Izzy because both of them used all their emotional intelligence to talk with each other and forgot that Izzy is also dense as hell. Possibly denser, who knows.

Third and last of all. I am. Enamored with the final scene presented in these tags. Ed pulls off his cravat and lays it out, completely spread on the desk or whatever. Izzy doesn't think twice about taking off his own cravat, but he ties it up with his ring again after it's off and lays the little bundle on top of Ed's cravat. And then Stede comes up beside him and pulls off his glove finger by finger (accidental sensual slut Bonnet strikes again) and puts it on top of Izzy's bundle and Boom. Izzy suddenly gets it. This is like. Serious. This is not just the three of them liking each other enough to have some fun times. This has Emotion written all over it, which Izzy is actually allergic to. But he very manfully does not run away because that would just invite Questions and Talking. Stede and Ed once again overestimate Izzy's ability to handle feelings so they think he's as on board the relationship train as they are, and that he has been since they approached him. Izzy meanwhile is going through such a huge crisis it feels like 5 different crises.

Anyway even through all this they still manage to start a little bedtime ritual where the giver of a Token takes it off the recipient for them. So Stede takes off Ed's cravat, Ed takes off Izzy's cravat+ring, and Izzy takes off Stede's glove. I cannot stress enough that they still have not fully had the "What are we" talk yet, nor have they properly discussed their Feelings. They just simply cannot help but to be domestic.

[straightupsickfics]

“All I’ve done today is catch your cold!” is just very, very cute to me, so if you are inspired to write some soft pirates, that would also be cute 🖤 thank you !!

It is so cute 🥺🖤

Also this is truly just snuggling 🫶🏻

****

“Hh’tsh! Huh’rrISSHHH! Fuck mbe… SNF!”

“Ed?” Stede’s voice drifts into Ed’s half-asleep, cold-fueled haze, and it’s enough to make him blink his eyes a few times, clearing the sleep from them. His whole head feels heavy, though, congested enough that it feels packed with wet cotton wool. He’s hot all over, too, though he gets the distinct feeling that if he tossed the blankets aside it wouldn’t be long before he’s shivering.

“Stede? W’time’s it?” Ed asks, and his voice sounds rough even to his own ears, splintered through with exhaustion and congestion.

“Late afternoon,” Stede tells him quietly, crossing the length of their cabin to join him by the bed. “Just about dinner time, if you feel up to it. I can have Roach put something aside for you. I’ll eat with you down here.”

“Dinner?” Ed asks, incredulous. “Already? All I’ve done today is catch your cold.”

“I am sorry about that,” Stede says. “But the crew’s managed everything beautifully if I do say so myself! You’ve trained us up quite well!” Stede reassures him.

He slips easily into bed beside Ed. Somehow, in the short time since he’d entered their quarters, he’s managed to slip off his shoes and overcoat. He’s warm against Ed, curling around him and murmuring quietly about soup ingredients and temperatures.

“Think you might have a fever, darling,” Stede says quietly. He drops a kiss to Ed’s forehead, so, so gently that Ed half wonders if he imagined it.

“S’that why I feel so shit?” Ed asks, wrapping himself around Stede so that his face is tucked into the warm hollow of Stede’s shoulder. He sniffles a few times, his nose sensitive to the powdery scent of Stede’s shirts on a good day, let alone when his sinuses are shot to hell with a cold.

He’d gotten it from Stede, there’s no doubt about that. Hell, Ed had spent the better part of four days letting Stede cough and sneeze and nap on him, and he wouldn’t go back and change that even if he could.

“I think so,” Stede says, stroking a hand through Ed’s hair. He’d thrown it up into a ponytail earlier, and hadn’t given it a second thought until Stede shakes it the rest of the way out, letting it fall loose around his shoulders. The relieves pressure helps him, too, and Ed can’t help but sigh a little.

“Hang on, fuck this, a-hh! Again…” Ed sniffles against the building urge to sneeze, but gives in quickly, tucking his head back down and muffling a set of quick, strong sneezes against Stede’s shoulder.

“Hd’tsh! huh’uussshh! Hh’rrtsshh’oo!”

“God bless you!” Stede murmurs. “Alright?”

“I’ve been better,” Ed admits. “But I’m also better now that you’re here, so.”

He knows Stede is smiling without even lifting his head.

“I am sorry I got you so sick, sweetheart,” Stede says, kissing his forehead again, then the tip of his flushed nose, then his lips, quick and sweet.

“S’alright, think I’ll make it through somehow,” Ed says.

Stede hugs him tighter, reminds him about dinner and soup and tea that awaits them above deck. But for right now, Ed’s pretty sure he’s got everything he nights right beside him.

[perpetualcontrolleddrowning]

Blackbonnet Soulmate AU - Part 8

The Nettles in the Garden Don't Go Away

JRaylin441

Summary: We need to be a lighthouse, and all that.

Read on AO3 (x)

Read Part Seven Here (x)

Read Part Nine Here (x)

Dressing up with Ed is a silly and ridiculous reprieve before Stede is immediately thrust back into the stressful world of piracy. Bad enough to learn that the Spanish are following them while being yelled at by a short, angry man. Worse for it all to be happening while Stede is staggering around, barely able to function past his stab wound. Catastrophic for this whole disaster to take place in front of Blackbeard.

There’s a moment, right in the middle of it all, when Stede has just broken down crying in front of the greatest pirate of all time, and then walks onto the deck of the ship to hear Blackbeard explain all the ways he has already solved the problem, that Stede feels like he might just choke in the face of his own inadequacy.

He feels absolutely rotten for thinking like that. For getting jealous and maudlin in the face of someone helping to save his crew. He feels even worse when, just a moment later, Ed is spiraling and drinking straight from the decanter in the captain’s quarters.

“This isn’t how I thought I would die,” Ed says, staring into the amber liquid as he swirls it around its crystal container.

This is exactly how I thought I would die, Stede thinks. Away from my family after making a fool of myself in front of everyone I know. He gets down the painting that Mary gave him, that she painted for him. A painting of all the things he should have been and failed to be for his family. Any decent man can be a lighthouse. All you have to do is stand there. Stay in one place and be a good example of what to do.

“Technically, you’re supposed to avoid lighthouses,” Ed says.

Stede’s first thought is: that’s about the only thing I ever got right.

Stede’s second thought, in tandem with Ed’s, is: we need to be a lighthouse.

And it’s, wow, it’s truly incredible to watch someone as brilliant a tactician as Blackbeard get to work on a scheme. He darts around Stede’s quarters, grabbing at a mirror, a lantern, and a spyglass. All Stede can do is hunch in the chaise, answering questions when Ed articulates them over his quiet mutterings.

When he has all his materials, Ed swings back around to Stede, and his eyes are shining bright with excitement.

“Come on, we have to go set this shit up,” he enthuses, already on his way out the door. Stede is left strangely winded and stumbles his way up to the main deck with one hand on the wall.

It’s still foggy outside, so much so that it takes a moment for Stede to find Ed over by the side of the ship, waving his hands in the air and talking enthusiastically to several members of Stede’s crew.

They’re all watching him raptly as he speaks. How wonderful, that they get the chance to experience multiple styles of captaining.

Ed catches his glance and grins when he sees Stede. He looks…excited. To see Stede. That is something that must be given greater consideration at some other time, when they aren’t about to die and there isn’t a fake lighthouse to build.

But, then, Stede is too injured to climb up and down the rigging the way that Ed is so effortlessly doing. He mostly just sits there while the crew moves around him.

Lucius is muttering to himself in the corner, but he runs off to fetch anything that Ed asks of him. Black Pete is right in the action of construction, eagerly following every direction that Blackbeard gives. One time, he even sees Black Pete grab a rope out of Frenchie’s hands when the other man gets to a task first. For Frenchie’s part, he lets go of the rope and shrugs casually, stepping off to the side to watch the others get to work. Oluwande and Jim (does she still go by Jim? Stede should investigate this. It’s important to address others the way they wish to be addressed, when you’re using a people-positive management style) are diligently tying the different materials into a neat contraption to be ferried up to the crow’s nest. The others are all contributing where they can get an edge in, while Buttons occasionally yells out an update on the Spanish’s position (mostly the fact that he can’t see anything in the fog).

It’s wonderful to see everyone so motivated and active. Goodness, but this is exactly what Stede had been picturing when he set off for this adventure. A crew gleefully working together to build a clever trick to outwit their enemies.

Stede thinks again of the shining way Ed had looked at him when he stepped on deck. Even though he said he would put it off for later, Stede can’t help thinking about the fact that he can’t remember if anyone has ever looked happy to see him. Maybe the children, when they were younger. But an adult? Someone who had the chance to see him in all of his incompetence and idiocy?

The whole night feels like a rose-tinted dream. Like something tremulous and untouchable. A wavering flame on a wax-covered and snow-damp candle wick.

Lucius thinks to suggest a pulley to lift Stede up into the crows nest, and Oluwande and Jim get to work making that too, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He’s being hoisted into the sky. With the fog as dense as it is, Stede can’t even see the deck below. It’s just this small, round perch in a sea of gray. Just him and Ed, still wearing Stede’s clothes, with the luxurious beard. The clouds muffle any sound and make it feel even more as though Stede is walking in a dream.

Ed hands him the decanter, and Stede savors the burn of the whiskey like a pinch on the arm. No matter how many times he drinks, the dream doesn’t go away.

The mirror spins around and around. The breeze it creates tousles Ed’s hair. The lantern is spinning too, and it casts shifting light and shadow across the expressive planes of Ed’s face. He’s not looking at Stede, staring out into the fog and pausing to gesture down to Frenchie.

He’s focused. The orange light sets off the warm brown tones in his skin and puddles in the ink darkness of his eyes.

What a spectacular man. They always say you shouldn’t meet your heroes, and that just goes to show how extraordinary Blackbeard is. Because Stede didn’t even know to imagine half of the things that have already happened today.

He’d had no idea.

When they hear the calls ringing out over the water, the fleet of Spanish communicating their intent to turn around between ships, Ed slings an arm tight and warm around Stede’s shoulders and shakes him.

It’s warm and close. The shifting orange light is still swinging around them and Stede feels something clicking in his heart. 

He had always imagined a life at sea. The boys, Mary, his father, even his crew. They had all assured him that Stede was not meant for this. The elder on the island, even Stede himself. But this, this was what his heart had been calling out for all these years. A night of success, with a crew that worked together and Blackbeard himself pleased as punch.

Ed shakes him again, and the blaze of pain from his stab wound is an undeniable indication that this somehow isn’t a dream.

There is a candle in Stede’s chest.

*~*~*

Okay, so it was a fun night. A miraculous escape, just like always, but this had been different. This was more than a good fight, or a quick escape in the night. This was a balls-to-the-wall, batshit crazy plan to pretend to be a fucking lighthouse. Hell, the “foghorn” had just been a guy yelling!

And it had fucking worked.

He and Stede stay up in the crows nest. Mostly to keep watch in case the ships turn back around, though it’s impossible to see and there’s no way they would. The man falls asleep just a few minutes into watch, and that makes sense. Recovering from a stab wound and everything. Plus, this was probably more excitement than Stede had experienced in his life.

Ed can’t sleep. He’s keeping watch, but mostly he’s buzzing with adrenaline. His body’s always been like this. He never knows what will get him properly excited, but once it happens he takes hours longer to come down than everyone else.

He sits in the foggy darkness and watches the clouds slide past him.

So. The Gentleman Pirate. An absolute madman and a frankly terrible pirate. A top-rate co-conspirator and a relatively effective lighthouse. He’s overeager and seems to have all the common sense of a small dog, but Ed can’t help but like him.

Stede is also, somehow, quite handsome. His hair is still lanky and his body rank from fever-sweat. His skin is pale from blood loss and there’s a bright red stripe all the way around his neck. Even without the sickness, he’s not a conventionally attractive man. There’s no reason for Ed to feel a low buzz of hunger under his skin. The beast is simultaneously intrigued and appalled by this. But, Ed can’t stop thinking of the way Stede had looked so shocked and thrilled when their plan had worked. How he had gone around talking to each member of his crew while they were setting things up, trying to help and often making things worse.

He might not be pretty, but he was new, and that had always been far more intriguing to Ed’s magpie brain.

This is, unequivocally, the most dangerous thing that has ever happened to Ed.

His soulmate. Of course this would be his fucking soulmate. He’d never really bothered imagining what they would be like, but even if he had, Ed would challenge anyone in the world to be prepared to meet Stede Bonnet.

He can feel the prickling interest under his skin, the urge to poke and prod and learn everything new. His fucking soulmate. This was a ticking fucking time bomb.

He thinks again of the perfect layout of the captain’s quarters. The decor of the rooms he’d ducked his head in over the course of the night. Blackbeard may be rich, but it was perfectly clear that he and Stede were from completely different worlds. That all these beautiful things weren’t meant for him and he has never had and will never have the first idea of how to exist in that sphere.

Fuck. He’s gotta, fucking, he doesn’t fucking know. But Stede Bonnet is his soulmate and he’s already getting under his skin, and Ed can’t afford to let this go on. He’s going to have to do, fucking, something. He has to stop this. Fuck, but this is fucking dangerous.

These thoughts circle around his head for hours before Ed finally slips into sleep, leaning against the mast. By the time it happens, he’s started to sketch the outlines of a plan.

*~*~*

“Lucius,” Stede hisses over the side of the crows nest. “Psst, Lucius.” Lucius still doesn’t wake up but, at the noise, Stede sees Roach jerk to a seated position and glance around frantically. Oh, that works even better.

“Oh, Roach, perfect!” Stede watches as Roach continues to glance around for the source of the voice and, when he can’t find it, reaches over to shake Frenchie awake. “Up here, Roach.”

“Oh,” he finally says, sighing with relief when he looks up. “Good morning captain.”

“Roach, I need you to put together a full breakfast and hoist it up here for me.”

“I’m not sure, captain,” said Roach, skeptically. “I don’t think that it would make it all the way up there without the sausages rolling off the plate, and the breakfast isn’t the same without it.” He paused for a moment to gaze around himself consideringly. “Actually, with weather like this, and with a view like that, I think you really need something a bit simpler. To match the ambiance, you know?”

Stede and Roach had butted heads a bit when Stede had first put his crew together. Roach was one of the crew that Stede was sure had suffered a fair amount of trauma, and he’d been quick to try and establish himself as something of a “head honcho” on the ship. He had accomplished this by not working very hard on the group activities and rolling his eyes a lot when Stede talked.

But, Stede was never one to let blatant disrespect and derision stop him. The first few proper conversations Stede had managed to wrangle with him had mostly focused on the different ways he wanted to torture the hostages. Stede didn’t condone violence on his ship but, after the few times he heard the way the hostages spoke to some of the members of his crew, particularly the men of color, Stede couldn’t really blame Roach for wanting to work out a bit of his aggression.

And then, just as Stede had desperately hoped for, there was an opportunity for them to bond. Roach started out as a fairly good cook, but his combinations of flavors had been…creative at best. When Stede had stepped into the galley to subtly try and figure out what was going on, he found Roach, Oluwande, and the Swede rummaging through the food stores and genuinely trying to figure out what the foods were.

Stede really should have thought of that. He understood that his palate was quite a bit more developed than the average pirate and that, generally, dining isn’t a main focus when stocking a ship. No wonder Roach was struggling with his flavors! He likely didn’t have any experience using these ingredients.

So, Stede had made sure to buy a cookbook or two the next time they restocked. A few days after that, Stede had walked past the galley in the hours before a meal and heard Lucius and Roach gossiping while Lucius read recipes aloud, interspersed with comments such as “is it supposed to look like that?” and “I’m pretty sure the one over here is boiling, but I have no idea what to do about that.”

And Roach had absolutely blossomed! He had already been a bold and experimental cook. Now, with a few recipes for structure, he had a better idea of what everything tasted like and what flavors went together. Most of the time, these days, Roach would create something completely new and unique for dinner and Stede watched as his and Lucius’s conversations became almost entirely gossip. Sometimes Wee John and Frenchie would pile in the galley and join them, and Stede could hear Roach snapping at them to get the fuck out of the way before that milk boils and we all suffer for it.

In all of this, Stede and Roach had finally found something to talk about, and often spent several hours together on Sundays brainstorming the meals for the week and deciding what needed to be restocked.

All of this to say, when Roach says that the ambiance calls for a simple breakfast, Stede trusts him implicitly and eagerly waves a hand to indicate that he should go and put something together. When Roach returns with the orange marmalade and hunks of soft, fresh bread, Stede knows that he was right to trust the man.

“Quick, hoist it up to me!” he calls. “I would come down and get it, but I can’t make my way up and down this rigging. I’ll have to get some of the boys to lower me down when they finally wake up.”

Roach nods seriously and wraps the breakfast in a cloth, then ties that cloth to the same pulley system they used to get Stede up here.

“Thank you, Roach!” Stede calls down again, in a loud whisper meant to carry without waking up Ed sleeping next to him.

“Enjoy, captain! Also, when Blackbeard wakes up, can you ask him if he’s going to kill us all? Some of the boys were wondering.”

“Surely he won’t!” Stede calls down, forgetting to whisper for a moment. “What was last night if not a team-building activity? No one is going to kill each other now.”

Roach gives a significant pause. The significant pause that Stede always knows is supposed to mean something and is never able to figure out the meaning of. “Maybe just ask him anyway, when he wakes up.”

“Fine, I’ll ask him, if it comes up naturally. Honestly, Roach, you’re being paranoid.”

Roach rolls his eyes one more time, as Stede stops leaning over the side, but Stede has decided that he probably means the eye rolls fondly these days. He figures if he goes on believing this long enough that it might become true.

Sighing, Stede tears off a piece of bread, dips it in the marmalade, and looks out over the sea. It’s a gorgeous morning after the fog of last night, and the sunrise is painting the sea in all sorts of lovely colors. The second he takes a bite, he knows he was right to trust Roach’s judgment.

It’s a shame for anyone to miss out on something so beautiful.

*~*~*

Ed wakes up to an elbow nudging him in the side. His first moment of consciousness is spent in a blind panic, gasping for breath like he’s coming up for air after spending the whole night underwater. It’s always like this, when someone else wakes him up. Sometimes when he wakes up naturally. Stede doesn’t seem to notice.

Stede. The fucking soulmate. Who is sitting in the fucking sunrise as if he doesn’t know that the red sky is catching in his yellow-orange hair and setting him on fire. Bastard.

Red fucking sky at morning.

“Try this,” he says, completely oblivious to Ed’s rage-filled internal monologue.

A monologue that comes to a screeching halt when he takes the first bite of a piece of bread. There’s marmalade on it, but it’s like no marmalade he’s ever tasted. There’s a sweetness and a tartness and a spice to it that settles on his tongue and coats the bread evenly. Fuck. How is it so good? Ed’s fucking eaten marmalade before. There is no way that the spectrum of marmalade quality is this wide. What the fuck.

Stede’s staring out over the sea, not even looking at Ed, and it seems like a night’s sleep did him a world of good. The man is wearing Ed’s clothes and smiling absently while the wind tugs at his hair. There is bread in his hand and he keeps absentmindedly offering more to Ed. The marmalade tastes like a sunrise. It tastes like licking frosting off his fingers when he wakes up to a cake in his hand. They are sitting in a perch above the rest of the world and it’s like nothing Ed has ever experienced before.

Beautiful things, he reminds himself.

We’re just not those kind of people.

Ed knows better than to think that he’s the sort of creature who settles down with a soulmate on a cozy fucking ship full of kind-hearted imbeciles. He knows better than that. He knows what kind of thing he is.

“You could teach me the ways of being a gentleman,” he says, setting the first step of the plan he made last night into motion.

Ed is not the kind of person who other people stick around for, and a soulmate that makes his heart go all fucking pitter-patter is exactly the sort of thing that needs to be excised. A knife digging a bullet out of its entry hole.

And, while he’s at it, Ed is going to steal it all back. Everything his soulmate ever stole from him. With interest. And he’s going to steal the knowledge of how to properly use it. He’s going to spit in the eye of every person who ever looked at him funny, and he’s going to walk the walk and talk the talk and retire to some town where he can live the rest of his life in luxury without ever thinking about this blip on the radar of a person.

Sure, it hurts now. Cutting people out has always hurt Ed, no matter how many times he’s had to do it. The point is that, as long as he does it as soon as possible, it can’t hurt as much as it would have later. When they eventually see him for the beast pacing in his chest.

He talks with Stede for a few more minutes before he sees Izzy pitching a fit down on the deck.

Izzy’s always had his back, with his own brand of delusional, bloody-minded devotion. As long as there’s violence, Ed can count on him. And there will be violence. Ed will make sure of it. He loves a good maiming.

“Edward,” Izzy calls after him. “You’ve still got it.”

Ed twirls around in a dramatic and self-assured bow, because that’s what Izzy needs right now and he’s never been anything less than everything Izzy pushes him to be.

He’s going to set Izzy up with enough ship to hopefully distract him, remove this new soulmate obstacle, and then go drown in a different sort of boredom in some town where he can live like a king.

The beast in his chest is pacing, pacing, pacing.