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It’s a warm summer evening, six months after Stede came back and pulled Ed from his dark, stormy whirlpool of sadness that Izzy finally makes a choice.
“Captain.” Izzy says.
They’re alone, up on the deck while the crew celebrated a semi-successful raid down below, and Izzy has finally managed to catch Ed without Stede, which is a fucking heroic achievement if you ask him, because they might as well be tied together these days.
“What’s up, Iz?” Edward grins at him properly, easily and happy. It reminds Izzy of when they were younger, and Izzy cannot help the bubble of hope that forms violently in his throat.
“I understand with Stede back, that.” Fuck, this is so hard. Now or never. “That things are not going to be the same as they used to be.”
Ed frowns at that, a hint of tension seeping into him. “Well. Yeah, no, they’re not mate.” There’s a warning edge in his voice, but Izzy presses on.
He can’t bring himself say it directly, so he says or another way, hopes Ed understands like he always does. “Would you ever consider going back to that with me?”
I’m in love with you. I miss how close we used to be. We could have a life together again.
Ed looks confused and upset. “I don’t want to be Blackbeard again. It, that, life wasn’t good for me.”
Izzy’s hope bursts and he wants to kick himself. “Right. Well.”
It was stupid to expect anything else, but he had to try, at least.
Izzy drums his fingers against the railing. “Edward… Are you content? Does Stede make you happy?”
Ed seems a bit taken aback, which is fair, it’s not the kind of thing they say to each-other, but Izzy needs a clear answer.
“Yeah. He’s good for me.” Ed smiles. “I didn’t know life could be like this, mate.”
That’s that, then. Fine. He’ll leave. He’ll be fine. Edward will be content.
He packs up his stuff that evening, swords and knives and the few clothes and personal items he has, throws them in a sack and quietly takes a dinghy as the moon rises high in the sky.
Ed’s distracted with Stede, as he always is these days, and the rest of the crew is too blissfully unaware to notice anything, so Izzy manages to leave without being noticed. He ignores the aching in his chest, squashes it down. He’s being a good first mate. Keep the captain, content, that’s the goal.
They’re only a short ways off the republic, so he finds land quickly, and then he finds himself at Spanish Jackie’s, drinking himself into a haze before he has to face the world again, when Calico Jack drunkenly stumbles into the seat across from him.
“What are you doing here?” Jack laughed, eyes sparkling with alcohol and amusement. “Did your crew mutiny already?”
Izzy curled his free hand into a fist beneath the table, and forced himself to take another sip, steadying his voice. “Ed’s back on the Revenge.”
Jack grins widely. “Knew he’d bust out eventually.”
“Yeah, well.” Izzy drains the last of his drink. “It’s Blackbeard.”
He desperately wants to leave, to escape this conversation and Jack’s cruel eyes and the crushing press of the tavern.
But he still needs a job, and it’s not like his life can get any fucking worse, and he doesn’t know how to do shit outside of pirating, so he grinds his pride into the floor and says, roughly, “The Kingston taking anymore crew?
Jack eyes him up and down speculatively. “What? Blackie dumped you or something?”
“Edward’s shacked up with Bonnet again.” He grumbles, then immediately regrets it, because it’s not like Ed broke up with Izzy for Stede. Edward probably was mildly irritated for five minutes that he’d have to promote one of Bonnet’s imbeciles to first mate, and then immediately went back to eating orange cake or having tea parties or whatever the fuck he did with Bonnet.
You never had any relationship with Ed, he reminds himself, firmly. Ed never felt that way. Ed is better off without you. The knowledge makes his heart start to ache again, but it’s alright, Izzy’s so used to pain that it’s almost comforting. It’s better to get used to the aching sooner than later.
Jack snorts. “What, that fag escaped as well? Why the fuck is Blackie still with him? He’s more of a pansy than I thought.”
That’s when Izzy decks him, and promptly starts the second biggest fight in this history of Jackie’s inn (first being when Jackie’s third and seventh husband disagreed on floral arrangements for the latest wedding).
When he wakes, his mouth is dry as sand and his head throbs. There’s a cut on his lip.
The late morning sun is creeping through the wooden floorboards, lighting up the streams of dust particles hanging in the air. He’s under Jackie’s inn, what he’d call the brig if it was a ship, but here it’s more like wherever Jackie chucks the drunks sobs she can’t be bothered to deal with or kill.
Izzy vaguely remembers yelling and fists, and sighs, dropping his face into his hands. He doesn’t have his swords or knives anymore and hopes, absently, that Jackie is in a sympathetic enough mood to let him get them back.
God. He remembers being here with Ed, once, when they were young and Ed was still interested in getting Izzy drunk, interested in living the life they had together.
He lets himself miss Ed for a minute. Just a minute, breathe through the hurt, then he’ll get up, yell till someone lets him out.
He’s glad Ed’s not here, actually, to see him like this, wretched and hung over. It’s better he’s alone.
Izzy stands up, swaying slightly, opens his mouth.
“Oh, this is very quaint, isn’t it? We didn’t get to see this last time.” Stede’s voice drifts from up the hallway, irritatingly bright and cheery.
“S’not bad. Me and Iz spent a few nights here, once.” Ed replies, easy and low.
It’s fine. It’s fine. Izzy’s heart hammers. One of Bonnet’s crew is probably drunk, got caught up in the fight, and they’re just here for them.
He drops back to the floor, stares at the ground. Chances are, they’ll just walk by, won’t even acknowledge him. He’ll just sit here till they leave, then he can get back to his original plan of getting out of this shithole and onto someone’s ship.
Stede appears in his peripherals, on the other side of the cell’s bars, staring curiously at him with an expression Izzy doesn’t recognise - anxiety? Worry?
Ed’s next to him. They’re holding hands, because of course they are, fingers interwoven intimately between their bodies. Izzy tries not to stare.
“Why are you here?” Izzy snaps, heart panging, unable to bear the silence.
Did Stede come here just - just to rub it in? That he has Ed, and Izzy doesn’t? To laugh at him, locked up and alone.
Izzy probably deserves that. He pointedly doesn’t look at Ed.
“Are you quite alright?” Stede says, unexpectedly. “Any serious injuries? Your face looks a bit roughed up.”
Izzy glares at him. He is very handsome, really, which Izzy can admit now knowing he’ll never have to see Stede after this. He gets why Ed finds Stede so attractive, some times, soft in a way Izzy never got to be.
“Spanish Jackie sent for me.” Ed says, eventually. “Said one of mine was drunk, causing trouble, come sort him out.”
Ah.
One of mine.
Izzy wishes he was still one of Ed’s.
“Well.” He grits out awkwardly. “I’m fine, obviously.. So you can go.”
Please, please don’t go. Don’t make me do this alone. Don’t make me bear this life alone. Don’t leave me here in the cell. Let me come with you.
“Yeah. Funniest thing,” Ed says, casually, leaning into the bars, “I just ran into Calico Jack bragging to everyone who’d listen that the infamous Izzy Hands is now his first mate on the Kingston.”
Huh.
Not really how Izzy remembers that happening, especially after he punched Jack’s jaw and knocked out one of his teeth, but he supposes Jack was never really one to get hung up on that stuff.
Oh, well. At least he’s got a job, even if it’s with fucking Calico Jack.
“Yeah. What’s it to you?” He looks up at Ed finally, juts out his jaw. Wants some semblance of dignity, if this is the last time they see each-other.
Oh god.
Ed’s eyes are dark and full. Stede’s hair catches the beams of light coming through the floorboards, gold to Ed’s black and they - they look good, together. Izzy’s chest clenches.
It’s fine. Izzy’s got a job and crew again, apparently. In a moment Ed and Stede will leave, and he won’t have to look at them together, perfectly matched. Ed’s obviously happier without him. It’s fine.
He takes in Ed one last time, the soft curls of his hair, the grey stubble blossoming across his jaw, the familiar lines of his skin, and shuts his eyes, burning his visage into his memory.
“Izzy.” Ed snaps. “Open your eyes.”
“You’re not my captain anymore.” Izzy mutters. It’s childish, but it’s not like Ed’s opinion of him is going to get worse anyway.
“Really, Izzy - “ Stede begins, but Ed cuts him off.
“Israel. Come here.”
Fuck.
He’s always been weak with Ed. Izzy opens his eyes and sighs, unfolds himself, climbing stiffly to his feet, body aching from bruises and cuts, and stands awkwardly before Ed, arms crossed.
Ed’s hand shoots through the gap between the metal, yanks his scarf through the bars, pressing Izzy’s face painfully into the cold iron.
“You’re mine.” Ed hisses. “Jack doesn’t get to fucking look at you.” His other hand thumbs over the cross he inked onto Izzy’s cheek, all those years ago.
Izzy scowls, bracing his hands against the bars and tries to pull away. Ed only tightens his grip, and one of Stede’s hands threads its way into Izzy's hair, patting gently. He shivers involuntarily at the touch, unfamiliar and intrusive. It’s not …. bad.
“Is this some kind of fucking game to you?” Izzy snaps, pulling futilely against Ed’s grip again. It’s no use. Ed is a lot stronger than him, and Izzy’s already weakened from the fight and a rough night in the lockup. Stede’s hand is still in his hair, which is making Izzy weaker at the knees than he’d like to admit.
“We’re worried about you.” Stede says, carefully, glancing at Ed. “You left so suddenly.”
Izzy hates him. Izzy could sob just from the sensation of Stede gently carding his hair.
“You’re my first mate.” Ed adds, sternly, suddenly letting Izzy go. Izzy falls back onto the floor with a crash, and heat rises in his cheeks. “You don’t get to just jump ship whenever you feel like it.”
Ed then crouches so he’s on the same level as Izzy. “What did Calico Jack offer you? Because if you want a bigger cut, or - or your own ship or some shit, we can talk about it.”
Izzy scowls. Ed knows exactly why Izzy left. It’s cruel to pretend otherwise.
And - is that really what Ed thinks of him? That he’d leave for money or power? It makes something twist in his gut, unpleasant and hurt, the realisation that Ed doesn’t know him at all.
“I didn’t - I didn’t fucking leave because I wanted more money, Edward.”
“Then why? Did you get kidnapped?” Stede says, surprising them both. From this angle, his hair is lit from behind in a golden halo, and the sudden jealousy for his unblemished, angelic appearance that crashes through Izzy is unexpected and unwanted.
Izzy opens his mouth, and then closes it. He looks at Edward, desperately, thoughts rushing through his head.
He doesn’t understand why Ed is pretending he doesn’t know why Izzy left, but whatever, if this is actually some kind of fucking game, Izzy will play.
“I didn’t get fucking kidnapped. Your crew is fucking useless.” Izzy grits out, eventually, glaring at Stede as best as he can. “Your ship is a mess. The rigging is atrocious. The books aren’t balanced. Why the fuck would I stay?”
It’s true, kind of, but Izzy would have served on a leaky dinghy if that’s what Ed wanted.
Ed stands up next to Stede, brushes his pants off. “He’s probably drunk or drugged or something. Let’s take him back and figure it out later.” He turns to Izzy, and smiles a little fondly, a little exasperated - a real Ed smile, not a Blackbeard smile - and Izzy is so fucking confused. “We already got your shit from Jackie.”
Stede helpfully shakes a sack under his arm, which clutters with Izzy’s blades, and says, “Let’s get you home.”
Ed digs through his pockets for a set of keys that Jackie must have given him, and fiddles with the lock to Izzy’s cell. He enters and offers Izzy a hand to help him up.
Izzy stares at it. “I’m not going back.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Ed chides him, and then, suddenly he bends down, hooks his arms under Izzy and throws him over his shoulder.
Izzy’s first thought is, irrationally, to worry about Ed’s bad knee. Then he starts to struggle, push back. Ed’s grip on Izzy tightens possessively, and they start to walk back up the hallway.
“Oh - is that really necessary, Ed?” Stede says, and Ed grunts.
“Edward!” Izzy shrieks, voice going higher than he wants to admit. “Put me the fuck down!”
“Jesus, mate. Be good and still for me.” Izzy flushes.
It’s so fucking hard to not do what Ed wants. They pass through the tavern, some of the patrons snickering, and Izzy thinks about how he can’t come back here for at least a decade.
“Good man.” Stede says, when Izzy calms down. “That’s the way.”
Izzy glares at him again, ignoring the pleasant buzz of being praised. He forces his voice into steadiness. “Edward, put me down.”
“Don’t want to risk you running off again.” Ed grunts, voice slightly laboured as they make their way to the docks. “Not till we talk it through.”
Ed’s body is warm and strong underneath him. This is everything Izzy wants. This is humiliating.
“Fine. Fine.” Izzy grits out. “I’ll stay till we can talk about it.”
Ed sighs and Izzy can feel his face scrunch in the way he does when he grimaces with indecision. Then he sets Izzy down on the street, a hand gripping one of Izzy’s belt loops to keep him close. The road is, mercifully, empty.
Izzy snatches his bag from Stede, who only smiles goodnaturedly.
“The Revenge isn’t far.” Stede says. “We docked near here after you left. Ed thought you’d been kidnapped or something atrocious, and we knew any news would reach us here.”
Izzy breathes in through his nose. He doesn't understand why they’re acting like they don’t know exactly why Izzy left.
Maybe Ed didn’t want to tell Stede about Izzy’s confession, was worried it’d ruin Stede’s impression of him if he knew someone as foul as Izzy was in love with him, and this is some kind of charade Ed’s doing to keep Stede happy.
“Fine.” Izzy turns towards the dock. He’ll go back to the ship with them, tell Edward and Stede and their whole useless bloody crew exactly why he’s leaving and Ed can deal with the fallout. He’s tired of hiding it, anyway.
Ed yanks on his belt loop. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we are going to talk about this.”
“Maybe over some tea.” Stede chirps, unhelpfully, and the way Ed looks at him is so sickeningly sweet.
Ed doesn’t stop touching him the entire walk to the ship, a hand either on his shoulder or in the small of Izzy’s back. The touch makes Izzy’s head fuzzy and dreamy, but he shakes it off. This is probably some kind of lesson that Ed’s trying to teach Stede. In the old days, if someone tried to desert, Ed would probably tie them to the mast and whip them. Maybe Ed’s weird, affectionate behaviour is just a trick to get Izzy’s defences down, and then they’ll maroon Izzy or something to properly punish him.
They basically drag Izzy into their cabin, ignoring the baffled looks from the crew, and make Izzy sit on one of the opulent armchairs.
Stede pours them all tea, heaping ridiculous amounts of sugar into them. Izzy takes his with a grimace.
“So. Izzy.” Stede begins. “We’re a little confused. You disappear suddenly, then we get a message a few days later saying you’re drunk in Jackie’s tavern.”
Izzy shifts uncomfortably in his armchair. It’s too soft, nothing to brace himself against. “Yeah.”
“Ah. Care to elaborate?”
Ed is quiet, staring at Izzy.
Izzy doesn’t feel like playing this game of pretend anymore.
“No.”
“I think you better, mate,” Ed says, “Or I’m going to throw you into the brig till you start making sense.”
“Ed.” Stede admonishes. “Don’t be too mean to him. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
Izzy stands up, dropping the bloody teacup on the floor. It shatters, staining the rug. “Why don’t you ask your precious Edward why I fucking left?” Izzy snarls.
“Izzy…” Ed looks properly confused and lost then, and a little sad. “Iz… I don’t know what you mean …”
“Don’t pretend!” Izzy yells.
God, maybe Ed really doesn’t even remember. Maybe Izzy’s so insignificant and boring to him that he forgot the conversation immediately. Maybe he didn’t even hear Izzy properly the first time.
Fine. Fine. Whatever. Izzy can say it again.
“I’m in love with you, alright? I have always been in fucking bloody love with you. And I get it, you don’t want me around, I’m boring and bad for you, you’ve got some stupid fancy handsome little aristocrat now, with his marmalade and silk handkerchiefs and you could have just - you have just told me you wanted nice things? I would have fucking gotten them for you. But I’m in love with you and I’m a good fucking first mate, keep that captain content, that’s my job, so I left so you could be content without me dragging you down and you could run off with your pretty new things!”
Izzy breathes hard.
Ed and Stede are staring at him, stunned into silence.
Fuck this. Izzy turns to leave.
“You think I’m handsome?” Stede says, because, of course, that’s the only thing he fucking got out of this and Izzy opens his mouth but it doesn’t matter because Ed lips crash into his, knocking them both onto the floor - thank fuck Stede has fluffy carpets everywhere - and it’s everything Izzy has ever wanted.
Ed tastes of sea salt and tea and sugar, and Izzy presses back into him, savouring every moment.
Then he knocks him off and sits up, because Izzy’s a lot of things, but he’s not unrealistic. “I don’t want your pity fuck.” Izzy snarls.
Ed knocks him in the back of the head. “I love you too, you stupid twat.”
The buzz of hope in Izzy’s bones is so hard to still. “You’re in love with Bonnet.” He forces out.
“Yeah.” Ed glances at Stede, and a silent conversation plays out in their eyes.
“Well. I’m not quite up to dramatic confessions of my love, yet,” Stede says, smoothing his pants, “But I happen to think you’re very handsome, Israel, also, and would not be opposed to coming to an … arrangement, with the three of us.”
The smile Ed gives him is blinding.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything, then?” Izzy says, quietly, because he’s not stupid, it’s dangerous to just believe blindly, however much he wants to.
Ed shrugs, hopelessly. “I didn’t think you were open to that kind of thing. And it was complicated, you know, me being your captain and all.” He rubs the back of his head. “You’re so fucking - desperate to please, you know? And I didn’t want to pressure you.”
Izzy flushes bright red. He wants to sink through the floor. “But - when I spoke to you…”
“I thought you were just telling me to break up with Stede again.” Ed says. “I mean, you were, weren’t you?”
“Amongst other things.” Izzy mutters.
“And now?” Ed says.
Izzy looks up at Stede, who’s still sitting on the couch. “He’s good for you.” Izzy says, awkwardly. “In ways I’m not.”
Stede suddenly slides onto the floor and kisses him. He smells of orange oil and lavender and chamomile and other delicate scents that Izzy can’t quite place, and Izzy presses back into him, hesitantly.
Even if this is only temporary, another strange whim of Edward’s, he’ll take it.
“You’re both good for me. In different ways.” Ed says, then he pulls Stede away from Izzy into a kiss, and Izzy’s heart flutters desperately.
He can’t tell if this is some kind of cruel joke. Strip him raw and then let everyone laugh at how soft he is underneath.
Ed turns back to Izzy, then pushes him onto the floor, straddling his hips. The breath Izzy takes in is sharp and shaky. “You’re not leaving this fucking ship without our permission for years.” Ed says, dark enough to be serious. “You can’t do that to me. Just leave in the night. That’s not right, mate.”
“Yes, sir.” Izzy gasps.
Stede comes to sit behind Izzy, and pushes him up so Izzy’s upper head is lying in his lap. “You’re important to Ed, so you’re important to me.” He says, then he puts his hand in Izzy’s hair again, and if Izzy tears up a little at that, so be it.
When they emerge from their cabin a few hours later, Ed’s arm wrapped around Izzy’s shoulders and Stede’s arm round Izzy’s hips, the crew stares at them.
“Finally.” Lucius says. “Took you guys long enough.”