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natilieal · 3 years ago

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stede's super fun sleepover adventure (ft. a mildly traumatised izzy hands)

‘Just so I understand,’ Izzy says, voice steely in a way that would have most men quaking with fear, but only earns him an indulgent smile from Stede, ‘you’re going to enforce mandatory bonding time for me with the rest of the crew so that I can… learn to get along with them?’

Or, Stede organises a sleepover to try and get to know Izzy better. Somewhere in between wearing Stede's clothes and getting his nails painted, Izzy loses his mind.

inspired by this post. thank you to @endrega23 and @im-just-so-so for tolerating me & enabling this. the amount of izzy brainrot i have subjected them to is unbelievable.

warnings/tags: crack treated seriously, implied steddy hands, technically pre-steddy hands, bed sharing, izzy giving angry chihuahua energy literally any time someone tries to be nice to him

read it here on ao3!

‘You want me to what?!’ Izzy does not screech, but it’s a near thing.

Ed is reclining on one of the many excessively plush couches in Stede’s cabin, pipe in hand. His boots have been discarded, his feet in Stede’s lap. Stede, meanwhile, barely paying attention to him – content instead to sit there and massage Ed’s feet while Ed, once again, tries to ruin Izzy’s life.

Izzy hates them both.

‘Relax,’ Ed waves the pipe in his hand, and Izzy tracks the smoke that trails through the air. It helps distract him from the sudden, burning desire to strangle his captain. ‘It’s not a punishment, mate. You don��t have to look so upset about it.’

Not for the first time, Izzy wonders if Ed and Stede’s combined stupidity might be enough to kill him one of these days.

If I die because Stede fucking Bonnet gave me a stress-induced heart attack, Izzy vows silently, I’ll haunt them both for the rest of time. When they die and become ghosts, I’ll continue to haunt them. A double-haunting. That’s how extreme and inescapable my vengeance will be.

‘Yes! It’ll be good for morale,’ Stede says, massaging Ed’s calves now. Izzy wants to break his fingers. ‘You’re part of this crew too, Izzy. You don’t need to be their friend, but maybe a little extra bonding time will help. Especially as their first mate—’

‘What,’ Izzy sneers, ignoring the warning look Ed shoots him for daring to interrupt his precious darling Stede Bonnet, whose word is gospel, ‘you want me to go on a little picnic? Organise a little sleepover, braid someone’s hair while we all talk about boys?’

Stede brightens. ‘Those are wonderful ideas! I’m glad you’ve come around so quickly. And I’ve been thinking, Izzy, that we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot either. I think us having a sleepover would be a great way to get to know each other better! We can start there and use it as a practice run before you start planning things with the rest of the crew. Oh! Ed could be there, too. A bonding night for us three! Doesn’t that sound nice, Ed?’

‘Hm? Yeah, sure, sounds great.’ Ed has been watching Stede’s hands the entire time, and Izzy is certain he hasn’t heard a word.

‘I’ll let you know when I’ve sorted out the details, then.’ Stede says.

Izzy opens his mouth a few times, as if to say something, but all that comes out is a strangled wail. Neither of them notice when he leaves, too caught up in each other.

⸻

A few weeks go by with no mention of the sleepover. Izzy starts to think that maybe Stede has forgotten his little scheme – become distracted in the face of some newer, shinier half-baked plan that Edward is no doubt enabling.

But, of course, the universe has decided that Izzy Hands does not deserve to be happy. Midway through berating Lucius on deck for another failed chore, Stede bounds up to him, grinning widely and looking something like an overexcited puppy. Izzy can almost feel his blood pressure spiking.

‘Izzy, there you are!’ Stede smiles, as if it’s a pleasant surprise to find Izzy on deck, and not literally his fucking job to be there. ‘Are you ready for tonight?’

‘Tonight?’ Izzy echoes dumbly.

‘Yes, you know, for our bonding time.’ Stede wiggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Izzy want to rip them off his face. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to organise it. I hope you haven’t been feeling neglected, but there was a lot of planning involved. I wanted to make it special.’

‘Special.’ Izzy repeats. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lucius watching the two of them, mouth agape.

‘Look, Izzy, I know that we’ve had our differences,’ Stede says, ‘but you’re an important part of this crew. Agreeing to this whole thing is a big show of trust on your part, and you deserve to be rewarded for it. So, yes, I have taken extra effort into making the evening special for you.’

‘Can’t wait,’ Izzy replies, nauseated. Stede gives him a thumbs up – who even does that? Izzy thinks with disgust – and walks off.

‘Well,’ says Lucius, clearly delighted. Izzy sighs.

‘Don’t—’

‘You’ve been a proper little seductress, haven’t you?’

‘Fuck off, Lucius!’

Izzy storms off, fuming. Behind him, he hears Lucius say, ‘Pete, babe, come here, you won’t believe what just happened–’

⸻

Izzy resolves to just skip the whole stupid thing and spare his sanity, but after dinner Ed appears on deck to physically manhandle him into the captain’s cabin. Apparently, he’s getting predictable.

Lucius wolf-whistles as they pass him, and Izzy barely has time to react before he’s being shoved into the captain’s cabin, Ed shutting the door behind them. Stede is standing at the table, fussing over a cake stand crowded with things that Roach must have spent all day making. He gives Izzy a smile.

‘Remember,’ Ed says, hands still on Izzy’s shoulders, ‘this is supposed to be fun.’

Izzy counts backwards from ten, and then says, ‘So, what are we doing first?’

⸻

The first thing on Stede’s agenda is apparently debasing Izzy further, because he abandons the table to shepherd Izzy over to the wardrobe.

‘First thing’s first, you and Ed have to get comfortable,’ Stede says, handing him a stack of clothes. It’s a pair of soft, cream-coloured pyjamas, and a green silk robe. Izzy pushes them back toward Stede, scowling.

‘I’m comfortable like this,’ he says.

‘Come now, Izzy,’ Stede says, undeterred, ‘I know that leather gets terribly uncomfortable after a while. Besides, it’s not very good for relaxing in, and that’s the point of tonight!’

‘Just give it a go, Iz,’ Ed says. He’s already changed into his robe. ‘If you don’t like it, you can just change back later.’

‘Fine,’ Izzy snaps, accepting Stede’s stupid clothes. He figures he’ll put them on to appease his captains, wait an appropriate amount of time, and then change back. At least then they can’t complain that he hasn’t tried.

They turn away to allow Izzy some privacy while he changes, settling in at the table with their backs to him. Izzy can hear them talking softly to each other. He’s almost tempted to make a run for it while they’re distracted, accept whatever punishment that would bring him. But he fights down the impulse and instead changes, trying and failing not to think about the fact that he’s wearing Stede Bonnet’s clothes.

The pyjamas are ridiculously soft, almost painful against Izzy’s chafed skin. He’d rather die than admit that Stede was right about his usual clothes; they were tight and restrictive, and if he wasn’t careful, they’d pinch and leave his skin raw and itchy by the end of the day. It feels wrong, somehow, that he should be allowed to wear clothes like these instead. The feeling worsens as he shrugs on the robe, expensive and unnecessary as it is. People like Izzy aren’t made to wear things like this, and his skin crawls as he takes a seat at the table.

‘Don’t you look nice?’ Stede says. Izzy’s head snaps up, already snarling and ready to snap, but there is no trace of mocking in Stede’s face. Instead, he’s giving Izzy a soft smile – the same smile he gives the crew sometimes, when they’ve done something nice and made him proud. Izzy thinks that might be worse.

Stede obviously takes his silence as agreement and begins serving both of them from the cake stand in the middle of the table. It’s a miracle it hasn’t collapsed under the weight of all the tiny pastries and sandwiches balanced on it. Izzy can’t bear to look at it for too long, and instead looks over to Ed. He is, as usual, staring at Stede and ignoring everything else in the room. Izzy looks away. He decides he hates sleepovers.

‘Oh, Izzy,’ Stede says, ‘how do you take your tea?’

Izzy looks helplessly at Ed, who shrugs at him in return. Clearly, he’s content to either make eyes at Stede or watch Izzy have the worst evening of his life. Bastard.

‘However you make it is fine,’ Izzy replies.

‘Don’t be like that,’ Stede chides. ‘I want to make you tea the way you like it. Part of learning to get along is learning these things about each other, you know.’

Izzy would rather cut out his tongue than admit to Stede fucking Bonnet that he’s never had tea in his life. He’s always scraped by on table scraps and whatever he could squirrel away – and that never managed to include fancy drinks served in patterned china. Tea, to Izzy, has always been a drink for other people; people who indulge in nice things, people who are weak. Izzy has always prided himself on his ability to remain strong and steadfast, to eke out a survival based on the bare minimum. He’s never stopped to consider that life doesn’t need to be like that – and now that he’s here, sitting at Stede’s banquet table, wearing Stede’s expensive clothes, surrounded by luxuries he wouldn’t have been able to imagine on his own, he feels strangely unmoored.

Izzy can’t believe he’s been thrown into crisis over tea. Fuck Stede Bonnet, he thinks vehemently.

Ed finally seems to take pity. ‘Why don’t you do what you did for me? Make it how you like, and then Izzy can adjust it from there.’

‘Oh!’ There’s an understanding look on Stede’s face that Izzy doesn’t like, but the look Ed gives him stops him from saying anything. Instead, he watches quietly as Stede fusses over a cup of tea, before standing up to carry it over to him. The whole production is so unnecessary.

Izzy stares down at the teacup and imagines smashing it on the floor.

‘Come on, man, try it,’ Ed says. ‘We’re dying from the suspense over here.’

Reluctantly, Izzy takes a sip. It’s warm, and sweet. There’s something about it that’s almost comforting. It’s possibly the nicest thing he’s ever tasted.

‘It’s fine,’ Izzy says. Stede gives him that soft smile again.

⸻

Eventually, they finish the tea. The cake stand is mostly empty now, Ed happily eating whatever Stede puts in front of him. Izzy has been picking at the same slice of cake, pretending to listen to their conversation and relying on monosyllabic answers to get him through it. Stede hasn’t tried to make him talk, but he keeps an eye on Izzy’s teacup, refilling it the way he refills Ed’s plate. Izzy isn’t sure how to feel about that, so he ignores it.

‘Right!’ Stede says, once his and Ed’s plates are empty. On Izzy’s plate is the mangled remains of his slice of cake that he’s. been mashing into oblivion. Thankfully, no one says anything about it. ‘I think the next thing on the sleepover agenda is some self-care.’

Izzy really doesn’t like the way they both immediately turn to look at him.

⸻

‘Come on, Izzy,’ Stede sighs. ‘Don’t be unreasonable.’

‘I’m not being unreasonable!’ Izzy snaps. ‘Look at me. I’m wearing your fucking clothes. I’m being reasonable, I just don’t want you to paint my nails.’

‘Izzy,’ Stede says, in the most insufferable whiny voice Izzy has ever heard, ‘It’s a standard sleepover procedure! You have to!’

Izzy doesn’t know how to tell Stede that he’s never been to whatever fancy, rich-boy sleepover he’s trying to replicate. Izzy’s idea of a sleepover is sharing a hammock belowdecks because there aren’t enough for every person to have their own. He opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it again after a murderous glance from Ed. He’s supposed to be getting along with Stede. Telling him exactly what he thinks of this whole pampered rich boy routine would set them back to square one, and obviously make Ed very angry with him.

Instead of telling Stede Bonnet exactly where he can shove his nail polish collection, Izzy takes several deep breaths. He holds out his left hand toward Stede and says, ‘Can you paint them black, please?’

The smile Stede gives him is blinding. Behind him, Ed nods his approval.

Izzy scowls back at them and stays silent while Stede works. He tries very hard not to think about the fact that he can’t remember the last time someone held his hand this gently.

⸻

‘What the fuck is that?’

‘This,’ Stede says excitedly, holding up a jar of some kind of green paste, ‘is a face mask. They’re good for your skin.’

‘Ooh, I love those,’ Ed says. ‘Do me first.’

Izzy watches with sick fascination as Stede uses a small brush to apply a thick layer of the face mask to Ed’s face. It looks unnecessary, and uncomfortable, and the idea of Stede Bonnet being that close to him is deeply unnerving.

‘You’re not getting that shit anywhere near my face when he’s finished,’ Izzy says.

‘Come on, man,’ Ed says. ‘You’ll be fine. It’s relaxing.’

‘Don’t even fucking think about it,’ Izzy says in Stede’s direction.

⸻

Stede does, in fact, successfully coerce Izzy into putting the face mask on.

To Izzy’s eternal devastation, it is relaxing.

⸻

‘Okay,’ Izzy says, bordering on hysteria, ‘I ate your cakes. I wore your dressing gown. I did the nails and the face mask. Can I please go to bed now?’

‘Bed sounds like an excellent idea! It has been a long day, hasn’t it?’ Stede replies. Ed is already on his feet, pushing the curtains aside to reveal their stupidly huge bed and a truly inappropriate number of pillows. It’s a wonder the ship stays afloat at all.

Izzy swallows another cutting remark and instead focuses on divesting himself of Stede’s ridiculous dressing gown, making a beeline for the door. He’s trying not to sprint, but he’s at his wit’s end. He’s had enough of trying to play nice, is thinking longingly of the blessed silence and solitude of his room –

‘Where are you going, Iz?’ Ed calls. He does not sound impressed.

Izzy turns from the door to see that they’re both already in bed. There’s a space between them that Stede pats invitingly.

‘Going to bed?’ he tries.

‘It’s a sleepover, Izzy!’ Stede laughs, gesturing again to the empty space on the bed between them. ‘You’re meant to sleep here with us. We made room for you.’

Briefly, Izzy fantasises about sprinting out of the cabin and pitching himself overboard. But Ed is starting to frown again, and Stede has that strange expression that he wears around Ed sometimes, when Stede is just so sad about the state of their general existence. Seeing it directed at himself makes his hackles rise, but he’s far too tired to start a fight now. The night has apparently been going well so far, and he’s not a quitter.

Instead, Izzy heaves a deep sigh, surrenders the last of his dignity, and crawls into bed between Ed and Stede. It’s an unbelievably soft mattress; he sinks into it, and the slight, ever-present ache in his back disappears.

‘Are you comfortable, Izzy?’ Stede asks.

‘Yes,’ he replies, surprised to find that he means it. Ed and Stede settle beside him, not quite touching him, but close enough that he’s very aware of it.

‘This is nice,’ Stede says. ‘I’ve had a nice evening.’

‘Yeah,’ Ed agrees. There’s a beat of silence, and then Ed nudges Izzy.

‘I guess,’ Izzy says. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend he’s not about to go to sleep in Stede Bonnet’s bed, nestled between him and Ed.

‘I may have to warn you, Izzy, I am a bit of a cuddler,’ Stede says. He blows out the candle on the nightstand, plunging the room into a pleasant darkness. Not being able to see Ed and Stede’s faces out of the corner of his eye helps, and he finds himself relaxing without even realising it.

‘Of course you are,’ Izzy sighs. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’

‘Goodnight, Izzy. Goodnight, Ed.’

There's a few minutes of blessed silence. Izzy relaxes and allows himself to be lulled by the rocking of the ship and the sound of the waves outside. It's surprisingly nice. He's almost asleep, when –

'Izzy, would you still be Ed's first mate if he was a worm?'

⸻

‘Ooh, I’ve got one,’ Ed pipes up sometime later. Izzy, again on the verge of sleep, jerks awake. ‘Okay, so, say you get a million dollars, but in exchange there’s this snail–’

‘What the fuck, Ed?’ Izzy groans.

‘No, wait, hear me out. There’s this snail that follows you around like, forever, and if It touches you, you die. How do you avoid it?’

‘That sounds very stressful,’ Stede says. ‘Is it worth taking the money?’

‘It’s a fucking snail,’ Izzy snaps. ‘Just get someone else to step on it, done.’

‘Nah, won’t work,’ Ed says. ‘It’s immortal.’

‘What? You can’t just make up extra rules to your stupid fucking snail riddle because I solved it that easily –’

‘I said it follows you around forever –’

‘Boys,’ Stede chides, and they both fall silent. ‘Izzy, I thought your answer was good. Ed, don’t be unfair to Izzy. It’s a very practical solution.’

‘I guess,’ Ed grumbles, and the three of them settle down again. Except, now, instead of trying to get to sleep before either of his captains have the opportunity to misfire a brain cell and say something ridiculous, Izzy’s thinking about the logistics of an immortal snail following their ship.

He regrets it before he’s even opened his mouth. ‘If it’s following you, but you’re a pirate captain, couldn’t you just… keep sailing? Unless you’re about to tell me it’s a fucking immortal snail with a boat, it’ll just sink, won’t it? How the fuck’s a snail supposed to reach your ship from the bottom of the ocean?’

‘Show off,’ Ed mutters. ‘You’re too good at problem-solving.’

‘Don’t be a sore loser just because he’s smart,’ Stede says. ‘Very clever, Izzy. Well done.’

Izzy’s chest flutters a little at the praise. He must be coming down with something.

⸻

‘Did you see how Frenchie was looking at Wee John today, Ed? Do you think something’s going on there?’

‘Dunno. What do you think, Iz? You’re around the crew a lot. Anything to report?’

Izzy is so tired. He’s up at dawn usually, checking inventories and doing chores around the ship that he knows the other crew members will invariably fuck up. All he wants to do is enjoy this stupidly comfortable bed for the few hours he has access to it and get a decent night’s sleep for once in his miserable life. All his captains want to do, apparently, is drive him insane.

He tries to come up with something cruel to say, but he’s simply too exhausted. Instead, he mumbles, ‘Wee John has a crush on Frenchie.’

Stede gasps and turns to face him. ‘Really?! Do you think it’s mutual?’

‘Probably.’ Izzy yawns. ‘They’re always staring when they think the other person isn’t watching. It’s nauseating.’

‘Do you have a crush on anyone, Izzy?’ Stede asks, after a pause. Izzy feels several complicated emotions at once and is able to name approximately none of them.

‘Go the fuck to sleep, Bonnet,’ he says instead.

⸻

‘Izzy,’ Stede says thoughtfully, ‘what kind of bread do you think I’d be?’

Izzy, for a brief moment, imagines ripping all of Stede’s hair out of his thick fucking skull. ‘What the fuck does that mean?’

‘Well,’ Stede continues, ignoring Izzy’s venomous tone, ‘is there a specific bread that reminds you of me?’

Sometimes, talking to Ed and Stede together makes Izzy feel like he’s from a different planet. ‘Bread’s just fucking bread, isn’t it?’

‘Come on, Iz,’ Ed groans. ‘Use your fuckin’ imagination.’

‘Christ, fine,’ Izzy says. ‘I don’t fucking know. I guess you’d be a – a croissant.’

‘A croissant?’ Stede replies, sounding curious, ‘What makes you say that?’

Izzy thinks fondly of his days under Blackbeard, when lashings were commonplace on deck, and he lived in constant fear of his neck being snapped. It was a simpler time.

‘I don’t know. Because you’re – fancy.’

‘Hear that, Ed?’ Stede says, delighted. ‘Izzy thinks I’m fancy.’

‘Fuck off, Bonnet.’

‘I dunno,’ Ed says, thoughtful. ‘I think you’d be, like, challah. Because yeah, you’re fancy, but you’re special, and soft, and sweet.’

‘Oh, Ed,’ Stede says, voice suspiciously thick and – is he crying? ‘That’s so kind of you.’

Past lives must be real, Izzy decides, and he must have been a terrible person in his. There’s literally nothing else to explain why he deserves to be here, sandwiched between his captains, while Stede cries about what kind of bread Ed thinks he is.

⸻

‘Okay, Iz, fuck, marry, kill,’ Ed says sometime later. ‘Me, Stede and Lucius.’

Izzy stays silent for a while, unsure of how to process the onslaught of mental images Ed’s question brought him. Any answer he could give feels incriminating. Eventually, he decides on, ‘Fuck Lucius, marry Stede, kill you.’

He assumes that’ll be the end of it, but Edward gasps like he’s been stabbed. ‘Kill me? Izzy, how could you?! You weren’t supposed to kill me!’

‘It’s just a hypothetical, you’re not actually dead,’ Izzy groans. ‘Who cares?’

‘Now, Ed,’ Stede says, sounding entirely too pleased with himself, ‘don’t be upset with Izzy for having good taste.’

‘Good taste my ass,’ Ed pouts. ‘I need the explanation for this – this shit. This betrayal.’

‘Lucius – well.’ Izzy doesn’t want to insult him unless it’s to his face. ‘You know.’

Ed and Stede make noises of agreement.

‘And Stede’s got money. We’d have a lovely, short-lived marriage, then he’d die under mysterious circumstances, and I’d run away with his fortune.’

This time, it’s Stede who gasps while Ed cackles. ‘Izzy! You – you cad! I thought we had something special!’

It might be the fact that it’s late and he’s feeling slightly delirious, or it could be the fact that the room is dark enough that the others can’t see his face, but Izzy finds himself smiling while Ed and Stede bicker over him. He’s almost enjoying himself.

⸻

‘Oh no, Izzy,’ Stede whispers mournfully. ‘We did almost everything you suggested, but we forgot to braid anyone’s hair.’

Ed has finally fallen asleep, snoring quietly somewhere behind Izzy. The room has been quiet for long enough that Izzy is barely awake – he understands that Stede just said something, and that he should answer, but doesn’t think about the words coming out of his mouth. ‘Next time, then.’

He vaguely hears Stede whisper something, but he’s asleep before he can process it.

⸻

Izzy wakes up laying on his stomach. He’s stuck half underneath Stede, who has apparently attempted to roll on top of him during the night. Ed’s pressed up against his side, arm flung across both Izzy and Stede. Ed’s knee is pressing uncomfortably into his stomach, and they’re laying close enough that bits of Ed’s hair are in his mouth. This is possibly the most uncomfortable Izzy has ever been.

It's also the best sleep that Izzy has ever had. It’s a far cry from every other morning of his life – usually he jumps out of bed the second he’s awake, mind racing in a million different directions. But for once he feels quiet, content to lay here and enjoy the relative peace of the morning. Even if that peace includes Stede crushing him into the mattress.

He lays there for a while longer, eyes shut, drifting in and out of sleep, when he hears the door open.

‘Morning Captains, sorry to interrupt, but Roach was asking about breakfast and – oh. Oh my God.’

I can’t have anything nice on this stupid fucking clown ship, Izzy thinks. Because of course the one morning that Izzy is here, very clearly cuddling Ed and Stede, very clearly wearing Stede’s clothes, is the morning that Lucius is the one to come in and wake the captains up.

‘Right, um,’ he hears Lucius dither as he gets closer to the bed. ‘Um – Captain? Ed? Izzy?’

Izzy’s about to make the worst decision of his life.

‘Fuck off, Mister Spriggs,’ he says, voice muffled. It’s hard to be intimidating when his face is pressed into a pillow. ‘We’re trying to sleep.’

‘Right! Yep! Of course!’ Lucius squeaks. He hears hasty footsteps. ‘I’ll – just. Go. Um, tell Roach not to worry. Bye! Pleasedon’tkillme!’

Izzy’s feeling rather generous this morning, and strangely disinclined to murder. Instead, he lets himself fall back asleep while planning an appropriately humiliating punishment for Lucius. There’ll be time to feel weird about the whole thing later.

#our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #steddy hands #stede bonnet #blackbeard #edward teach #israel hands #my fic #ofmd fic #if you saw me post the wrong version no you didnt

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