Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Ed had first pulled Izzy aside the day before he was due to spend his first full weekend with him and Stede, brows pulled together in a serious expression, Izzy had immediately assumed the worst.

He knew that the three of them had been through a lot together. He and Ed’s relationship had been steadily degrading over the years, their work and personal lives spilling over into each other far too much to be healthy, and it had only worsened when Stede came along. The two of them had fought like street dogs, barking and snarling at each other until it had all come to a head and the three of them realized they needed to do something before it all completely fell apart. Things had been on the brink of being unrepairable when they finally sat down and talked. Izzy came to realize - and mortifyingly admitted - that so much of his anger was deep-rooted in fear, and his biggest fear of all was losing Ed. Because he loved him - as simple as that. He loved this man, equal parts brilliant and frustrating, but he’d spent so many years repressing those feelings down that he didn’t know what to do with them anymore.

Izzy had always been quick to turn to jealousy. To let those emotions fester and rot, poisoning his mind, driving him to say and do things in anger that he’d come to regret later. And back in the old days, Ed’s impulsivity in arguments had led to even more heartache and bad decisions. Stede, though, had helped him with that; showed him ways to channel that fire into something more productive, and taught him how to walk away from a fight to cool off and save the remorse. Izzy watched Ed change, and eventually realized that it was for the better.

So they helped him to get better, too.

And the longer he spent around the both of them - seeing what things could be like, seeing the domestic bliss he’d never thought could be his - the more he found himself falling more in love with not just one man, but two.

His second mortifying admittance.

He’d expected rejection. He’d expected a laugh, a scoff, a how could you ever think we’d return those sorts of feelings towards you? and a what on earth makes you think that you’re deserving of something this good?

Instead he was offered not just one hand, but two.

And that came with a lot of unknown territory to navigate.

For the past six months they’d been learning how to be with each other. How to soothe each other’s insecurities, how to divide their time equally, and how to spend their time together. And it - it worked. Against all odds and Izzy’s multiplicity of worries, the three of them worked.

Always, though, in the back of his mind, Izzy had been wondering when it would all fall apart. Because people like him didn’t get things like this, right? They didn’t last for people like him.

So when Ed wanted to speak to him privately, Izzy squared his shoulders with a resigned sigh and braced himself for the inevitable blow.

“Listen, mate-”

Here it comes.

“There’s something I should probably warn you about.”

It was good while it lasted.

“Stede, uh…he talks in his sleep.”

Izzy had stared at him for a good few seconds, blinking, trying to comprehend his words.

“Iz?”

“I thought you were going to tell me not to come,” Izzy blurted out. “I thought - you’d both - maybe - you didn’t want-”

And here Ed’s eyes had softened into that affectionate, slightly pained expression, the we love him but he still doesn’t know how much expression, and he’d gently shut him up with a sweet, chaste little kiss on the mouth. “We do,” he’d murmured. “We always will.”

The words were just as sweet, just as warm, and Izzy would carry them around for the rest of his life. But with his worries momentarily silenced, he’d returned to the intended conversation with a raised eyebrow and amusement creeping into his words.

“He talks in his sleep?”

“A lot,” Ed had replied solemnly, his own mouth curling at the corners.

“But I’ve stayed over before, and he never…”

“You’ve stayed over after sex,” Ed said, and the tips of Izzy’s ears had turned pink. “He doesn’t do it then. Don't ask why, fucked if I know. But you’re staying for three whole nights this time, so. I thought I’d warn you.”

“Okay.”

“He doesn’t know, though. That he talks as much as he does. He’s got no memory of it the next morning.”

“Alright.”

“And you’re not allowed to judge me, either.”

Izzy had frowned slightly at that, tilted his head to the side. “Why would I?”

Ed hadn’t answered verbally, but that devious grin was a response all on its own.

Stede didn’t say anything in his sleep the first night because, as was to be expected with all of the nervous energy and anticipation of Izzy’s first ‘proper sleepover’ - Stede’s words, not his - the three of them had found themselves quite busy, and slept well into the next morning. Izzy would never say that money was in any way, shape, or form important in a relationship, but he did concede that it was nice, he supposed, to have a partner who could afford to buy them all home delivery from a nearby bakery and treat them to an absolute feast of brunch foods. And Stede must have thoroughly enjoyed the meal, too, because that’s the first thing he unknowingly spoke about that second night.

They were all curled up quite happily together, finding ways to comfortably fit three people in a king-sized bed, and Izzy was drifting off to sleep with his hand twined with Stede’s across Ed’s chest and his head in the crook of his neck when the talking started.

“Nnnot that one.”

His eyes opened.

Stede was undoubtedly asleep - eyes shut, breathing deep and even, fingers thoroughly relaxed and even twitching a little bit in his subconscious - but it was undoubtedly his mouth moving in a mumbled, slightly slurred voice.

“Th’one with…th’jam. He likes jam.”

Izzy had tried to look up, nose brushing against Ed’s jaw, and Ed had squeezed his hip in response before whispering-

“What kind of jam?”

“Mmm…apricot.”

“We’re out of apricot.”

“Oh.” In his sleep, a tiny furrow had appeared between Stede’s brows. “Ss…strawberry?”

“Yeah, we can do strawberry.”

“Mm. Good.”

Izzy couldn’t quite believe his ears - couldn’t quite believe he was hearing a conversation unfold, with one half of the party being completely unaware - but still, it carried on.

“What else do you want?”

“Uh…cr…croissant.”

“What kind?”

“Ah…”

“Plain or chocolate?”

“…both.”

“One of each?”

“No…uh…three.”

“Three of each?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll just get those for you.”

“Lovely. Thank you.”

There was a grin on Izzy’s face. He couldn’t help it. If this wasn’t one of the funniest fucking things he’d witnessed-

“Here you go.”

“Cheers, thank you.”

“Oh, hey, careful, you’ve dropped them.”

There was a solid five seconds of silence, in which Stede’s frown had deepened into something comically confused.

“Oh dear,” he’d sighed.

Ed had lifted one of his hands, pressed it into his mouth to keep from laughing. Even still, Izzy could feel the silent vibrations reverberate throughout his chest.

You’re not allowed to judge me.

Edward Teach, you sly little dog.

He’d smiled to himself in the dark.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Ed wasn't lying when he said that Stede talked a lot. Izzy's weekend trips became more frequent - every month, every fortnight, every week - and each time, Stede would have some mumbled nonsense to share with the audience. When he asked Ed how often it happened when he wasn't there, he was decently surprised to learn that it happened at least three times a week. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard of anyone sleep-talking so much. And he knew without asking, because personal experience told him so, that it didn't get annoying.

It only got funnier.

They'd been together for almost a year when Ed decided, after sullenly watching Izzy get ready to return to an apartment that no longer felt like home, that Izzy was going to move in. A point he made, quite forcefully, by grabbing him around the middle and refusing to let go.

"Come on, mate, you basically live here anyway," he'd whined. "You've got a drawer with your stuff in it. You've got a toothbrush in the bathroom. You live here now."

"Now, now, Ed," Stede had chided, gently, in that tone that used to infuriate Izzy, but that he now knew was the way he expressed care. "We mustn't force that decision upon him. It's Izzy's choice." And he'd smiled at him with that smile, that fucking smile, that Izzy still wasn't quite convinced he deserved. "Of course, darling, if you wanted to...you know we'd love to have you."

Stede was very big on Izzy making his own choices. Voicing his desires, becoming more comfortable in expressing want and need. Izzy - and Ed, for that matter - had tried to explain that he wasn't that sort of person. He liked people making decisions for him. Made it easier, made him less frustrated when he struggled to figure out what his wants and needs actually were. He was a follower, not a leader. But Stede was stubborn - fuck, they were all stubborn - and Izzy supposed that, if they were all such stubborn bastards, they might as well be like that under the same roof.

"Yeah," he'd replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, alright."

So he'd sold anything he didn't need, and moved in. They found space for his mugs in the cupboard - his plain white, next to Stede's floral pattern, next to Ed's multicolored monstrosities printed with various snarky and comical pieces of text. He and Ed shared a dresser, while Stede had the whole of the wardrobe and took up space in the office. A clothes horse through and through. And, like Ed had rightly pointed out, his toothbrush had already found a home there.

They're in bed together - Stede spooning Ed, Ed spooning Izzy - when the mumbling starts up.

"That one next, I think."

As always, he and Ed wait. Often, it seemed, Stede's dreams would be related to something that had happened in the past week or so. There was always the potential for rambled nonsense, of course, but they'd always have to wait, never quite sure what would come out of his mouth.

"Hmm." He sounded like he was frowning. "Don't drop it, please."

Izzy turned his head slightly in Ed's direction, a silent question hanging between them, and Ed tightened his arm around his waist in response.

"Drop what, love?"

"Th'couch."

Ah. Furniture moving. From the corner of his eye, Izzy could see a wicked grin appear on Ed's face.

"I'll try," he replied, a teasing sort of warning in his voice. "Pretty heavy, though."

"Y'need to lift with your knees."

"My whaat?"

"Your knees, Ed."

"I don't have any knees."

"What?"

A stunned silence stretched out between them. Izzy had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"Where did they go?" Stede eventually asked, sounding thoroughly baffled.

"I, uh, I sold them."

"Oh!"

Ed shoved his nose into Izzy's neck, trying and partially failing to muffle a snort.

"For how much?"

"Bottle of rum and a Snickers bar."

"Edward," came the grumbled response, followed by a huff. "That's bad business."

"You think they're worth more?"

"Mmmhm."

"How much more?"

"Mm...million."

"A million bottles of rum?"

"Yes."

"And a million Snickers bars?"

"Mhm."

"Well, aren't you sweet."

There was no verbal reply to that; just a quiet, contended noise, and Izzy could feel Ed's smile against the soft skin behind his ear.

Slowly but surely, as their relationship continued, Izzy became more comfortable with different types of date nights. Or date days, a lot of the time. They had started up a rotation between the three of them, and each week it was someone's turn to choose an activity.

Ed liked adventure. He made them go ice skating and rock climbing and bungee jumping. Izzy refused that one - he was not a heights person, which Ed teased him about - but he rubbed Stede's back afterwards while he threw up into the bucket staff always kept on hand. On the flipside, Ed’s loud laughter on the way down was borderline unhinged.

Izzy was a man of simple pleasures. Almost every time, he wanted the same thing; takeout dinner, a good movie, and the opportunity to curl up under a blanket and fall asleep on someone's shoulder. It was enough, just to share space with them; to know that he was wanted. To know that he was loved.

Stede was a man of exploration. He liked discovering new things, and learning as much as he possibly could. And, Izzy secretly thought, he seemed to get a kick out of already knowing things. There was obvious delight on his face as he dragged them around the museum, pointing out different things and giving history lessons as he did so. Not all of it was interesting. Sometimes he rambled on a bit about something neither him nor Ed particularly cared about, but, anything to keep that smile on his face, right?

Even when those factual tidbits were coming out of Stede's subconscious.

"Ooh, look at this one."

Even in his sleep, he sounded excited.

"That's...that's a nice one."

Ed rubbed his thumb over Izzy's side, silently asking if he was still awake, and Izzy kissed his shoulder in response to tell him that he was.

"What's a nice one, love?"

"That one..." Stede mumbled, and you could hear him smiling. "Dryocampa Rubicunda. Candied melon silk moth."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Now they're a.. a North American moth."

"Uh huh."

"First discovered in...in seventeen...seventeen ninety three..."

"Is that right?"

"Mhm.”

“Are they your favorite?”

“I th…think so, yes. Which'is your fav'rite, dear?"

“The, uh…” Ed deliberated for a moment. “The snagglehorned bungbeetle.”

Izzy made an involuntary choking sound.

“Oh,” was Stede’s mildly surprised response. “I don’ think I’ve heard of tha’one.”

“They’re, uh, native to Madagascar,” Ed continued, growing in confidence the more he pulled fake facts out of his ass. “About the size of your thumb. Bright purple. Two little horns on its head - those are for fighting. And attracting mates. They get around, those bungbeetles do. Fucks like a champion.”

“That’s nice for them.”

“Then there’s the, ah…the three-titted fruit fly. They’re from-”

He paused to give Izzy an affectionate smack on the ass, after he couldn’t help a high-pitched snort from coming out of his nose.

“As I was saying, they’re from South America. Tropical little buggers; love the rainforest and the climate and stuff like that. Completely vegetarian, won’t touch meat or anything else. Only fruit. And they’ve got three tits, obviously. It’s all in the name.”

“I see,” Stede mumbled. “How interesting.”

“Of course, if we’re talking about bugs, we can’t forget about the diamond-encrusted caterpillar,” Ed rambled on. “Used to find them in the mines. They ate coal, y’know. Only bug to ever do it. Their bodies could absorb it and pressurize it or some shit like that, and then grow diamonds out of their skin as a defense mechanism. They’re extinct now, though, because humans wanted the diamonds to sell. Greedy bastards.”

“Bastards,” Stede murmured sleepily in agreement.

“If you’re looking for something really exotic, though, you can’t go past the double-headed cockroach.”

Stede made a little noise. “They’ve got two heads?”

Ed let out a low, sly chuckle. “They sure do.”

A few weeks later there were not one, but two mishaps at the bakery that Stede owned.

Now, he wasn’t much of a baker himself. Or at all. But he loved his friends, and he loved helping them, so yes; he had, a couple of years back, purchased a bakery for Roach to run and operate. While he was in there creating whatever he pleased, Stede was happy to take a backseat and manage the business side of things (as well as sample the goods). He said it was the one good thing that had come from his father forcing him to get a university degree. Izzy and Ed agreed with him, and never said no to any of the treats he brought home.

The first mishap came from a brief supply shortage. No one’s fault - one of the roads had a slip come down on it, so the trucks couldn’t get through from the orchard - but it meant that deliveries were over a week late, and some of the stock ran low.

Stede grumbled a lot that night, a small frown almost constant between his eyebrows.

“Out of…out of oranges…”

“You’ll get more,” Ed whispered soothingly, opting not to take the mickey for once. “It’ll be fine.”

“H…how? Th’road is…it’s closed.”

“We’ll, uh, catapult them across.”

“Hm.” The frown deepened slightly. “That won’t be good for them.”

“Why?”

“They’ll get damaged.”

“Then we’ll fly them across.”

“On a plane?”

“Nah, something cooler than a plane. Uh…jetpack.”

“You have a jetpack?”

“Yeah, totally. Or if that doesn’t work we can use, uh…pigeons.”

Izzy raised an eyebrow.

“We can train pigeons,” he carried on, choosing to ignore Izzy’s skeptical expression. “They can carry them across one at a time. Or they can fly in teams, bring them in bundles. Wear little uniforms and everything. Little pigeon boots and hats.”

Stede made a little noise in his throat - something like a laugh, distorted by drowsiness - and the creases in his forehead finally smoothed out.

The second bakery mishap, which was completely ironic, was the eventual delivery being far more than what they’d actually ordered.

Forty oranges!!! Stede had messaged to their three-way group chat, sending pictures as he did so. Forty of them!!!

Izzy and Ed couldn’t even offer to take any - nothing they served in the bar was made with that particular kind of citrus - but luckily Roach was a whiz in the kitchen, and whipped up a cake that used a whole fourteen of them. Stede brought home a large piece for them to share and, while it was rather a little too sweet for Izzy’s personal taste, he supposed it meant that none of them would be getting scurvy anytime soon.

Ed, being the sweet-tooth that he was, thoroughly enjoyed it.

Stede must have really enjoyed it because, as well as praising it at the time, he unknowingly voiced his opinion in the middle of the night and raised a few eyebrows in doing so.

Izzy had actually fallen asleep, as had Ed; Stede usually started up not long after he'd nodded off, so they'd assumed this was one of the nights where his subconscious didn't have anything to say. Because of this, Izzy was surprised when something on the edge of his hearing woke him up from his own dreamless sleep - an odd, low sort of hum - and as he blinked himself awake, he could feel Ed stirring next to him.

"Wh-"

But there was that noise again. Slightly higher pitched, a little bit throaty, and most definitely coming from Stede. It took Izzy's sleep-muddled brain a few more slow seconds to figure out what it was and, when recognition clicked into place, he felt the tips of his ears blush.

"Interesting," Ed mumbled, sounding equal parts tired and intrigued.

Because it was, undoubtedly, a moan.

In all their time together, Stede had seemingly never had any sort of raunchy dreams. Never made any questionable noises, never said their names in that sort of way. So this - this was a first.

Even without speaking, Ed was radiating amusement.

Izzy, on the other hand, wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

Stede let out another moan - his mouth making an odd movement as he did so, and then - oh, fuck, began to speak .

"Oh, that's nice. That's lovely."

Ed snickered like he was twelve, while the blush spread to Izzy's cheeks and he resisted the urge to cover his face.

"Oh, Roach."

The giggling immediately cut off. Both Ed and Izzy became very still, now very much waiting with a strange sort of anticipation to hear what would come next. Both knew that it was nothing to worry about - Stede would never , not without talking to them first - but it was rather off-putting, hearing someone else's name come out of their partner's mouth in that specific tone.

There was another longer, drawn out, very satisfactory moan, and then-

"Roach, you make the best cakes."

Izzy let out a deep, somewhat exasperated sigh. "Fuck's sake," he muttered, eyes slipping shut again.

Ed didn't answer, too busy trying to muffle his laughter.

Izzy was not a man to venture into places like Lush of his own free will. The amount of scents was too overwhelming for his sensitive nose, and the staff were unsettling; too helpful, with forcefully bright smiles that contrasted greatly against their rather soulless eyes.

Ed and Stede were, however, men who would willingly go into places like Lush; so, like the dutiful partner that he was, he would allow himself to be dragged in there from time to time. He would be content enough - if one could be content in such a place - to trail along behind them, carrying bags and reminding them of the time every so often (they once spent a whole hour in that bloody store; Izzy nearly bit the head off one of the employees, and then kept sneezing all the way home). But no , Stede liked Izzy to have opinions, and constantly wanted him to share them. In all honesty, Izzy couldn't really give a rats ass in regards to what oils and salts were used when they were all in the bath together.

They were all in the bath.

Together.

He had other things on his mind.

Still, he did his best to say the things Stede wanted to hear - that he didn't like anything too strong, too sharp, and ignored Ed's jibes about him being too vanilla - because it obviously made Stede happy, being able to treat him to nice things. And, just maybe, deep down, Izzy liked being treated to those things. They made him feel special. All warm and shit on the inside. Ed certainly loved being on the receiving end of such gifts, and as a result he often smelt a lot better than he used to back in college.

And, y'know.

All of those different products could make for interesting conversations in bed.

Izzy had an arm around Stede's waist and Ed had a leg hiked up over his thigh when the telltale, wordless mumblings started, and a minute later they formed themselves into proper words.

"Mmm…that's a…a lovely citrus blend…is that…lemongrass?"

"The blood orange is nice too," Ed murmured into his shoulder.

"It is, isn't it," Stede mused. "'And the grapefruit." He sighed in his sleep. "Then there's the bath bombs…so many…"

"Get some with glitter."

"No," he groaned, that little crease appearing between his brows. "No glitter…gets everywhere."

"Glitter," Ed growled playfully, which was followed by another, "Nooo."

Izzy had a small grin on his face, chest filled with warmth and silent laughter, when Stede unknowingly dragged him into the conversation.

"Izzy doesn't like glitter," he mumbled. "Too messy."

Ed scoffed and eyed him up with a smirk. "That's because he's vanilla. He doesn't like anything fun."

"And eating soap is fun?" Izzy shot back in a whisper, which was met with a hushed gasp.

"That was one time-"

"I still can't believe-"

"It was lavender, and it smelt yummy-"

Izzy changed tactics, tilting his head up to brush his mouth along Stede's jaw. "Stede," he said, putting in a hint of a whine just to piss Ed off, “Stede, he's eating soap again."

"You little shit-"

"Ed," Stede murmured, frowning, "you're not eating soap again, are you darling?"

"I'm cleaning my insides."

Even in his sleep, Stede managed to tut.

"Tastes yummy."

"Edward-"

Ed tilted his own head up towards Stede's ear, quietly smacking his lips together a few times. "Mm, delicious."

"Nooo."

They knew Stede had recurring dreams sometimes. Some of them were about his time at school - an experience that had given him a lot of trauma he was still working through - and they knew that if he ever started to whimper about rowboats or those two Badminton bastards, that was their cue to wake him up. The same went for any dreams about his childhood - any mention of pathetic little rich boy and they'd gently pull him out of that subconscious flashback and back to the comfort of their shared bed. There was a rather funny one about Louis throwing up on an expensive pair of Stede’s shoes, and a passive aggressive argument in which Stede tried to convince Mary to like the ocean. Most of his revisited dreams were harmless, though, and there was one in particular that Izzy and Ed were fond of.

Neither were a hundred percent sure if the memory came from before or after he and Mary split, but it absolutely came from the memory of a rather eventful family day out. And, Izzy thought privately, it might have been the reason that Stede was never overly keen to take Ed and the kids to the zoo at the same time - too much excitable (somewhat unpredictable, slightly manic) energy in one place.

It was one of the few dreams where neither Ed nor Izzy interjected anything; it was entertaining enough on its own. All they needed to do was listen and enjoy the show.

It was also one of the few dreams where Stede talked enough to fill an audiobook.

"Suh…sunscreen. Louis, you need…oh, don't wriggle…"

"In th'car, both of you…d'you…have everything? Shoes on? Gotch'ya water? I…yes, Mary, I locked the door…here's…you take the keys, then…"

"Four tickets please…two adults and two…two children…no, Alma, you don't need a snack yet…you only had breakfast half an hour ago…"

"Alright, now…where to first…let's just look at the map and…oh, Alma, please don't run off like that…"

"Giraffes are so strange, aren't they…so leggy…must get a lovely view, though. And the zebras…I'm not a huge fan of stripes, but they pull it off well…"

"There are the lions…ah, look at his mane. Magnificent. Lots of teeth, though. Too many for my liking…oh, look, there's the leopard over there. There, Louis. To the…to the left. There you go. All lovely and spotty…just like Evelyn's Ned, isn't it? No, Alma, you're not getting a cat…couldn't even remember to feed your fish." A huff. "Yes I know they're still alive, but that's only because Louis took over from you."

"Where's…ah, there. Tortoises really are big, aren't they? So heavy…but look at the babies…so small. You can pick them up with one hand… no, Alma, you're not getting a turtle."

"Oh, I do like lovebirds. Such lovely plumage. I'd love a suit in those colors. Gorgeous contrast…do you think I could? I'm sure my tailor would be up for it, John loves a challenge…oh, where've you all gone?"

"Now, flamingos…they know how to look fab. Don't even have to try very hard, they're just…born like that." A sigh. "Lucky bastards."

"Can you spot any lemurs? Oh, yes, you're right Louis, there's one…oh, no, there's two of them. Oh. OH. Let's move along, good boy - no you don't need to know what they're doing, let's GO."

"Yes, I know the red pandas are lovely, Alma, but we've been here for…for ten minutes now…yes, you can get one in the gift shop. No, you can't smuggle one out in your bag. Wouldn't even know how to jump the fence…"

"Goodness, it's hot in here…yes, Mary, I know, it's the tropical section, thank you - ALMA, GET YOUR HAND OUT OF THE PIRANHA TANK RIGHT NOW."

It was always at this point that Izzy would send Ed an accusing (but still fond) sort of glare, and Ed would smile back sheepishly, having once done the exact same thing just to 'see what would happen'.

"Right, where are we…oh dear, the map's gotten a bit crumpled…but never fear, gang, I know where we are. Yes I know there's signs, but I like to have a map. Because I do. I'm not - no, we're not arguing…not arguing with the girl trying to get her fingers bitten off…"

"Spider monkeys are always hard to spot…oh, there's…no, nevermind. Wait - no, nevermind again. Darn. Those trees are quite tricky to…to see through…what? Ha, oh, you're right, they're right there. Silly me."

"Alrighty, my darlings, time for a pit stop…here are your sandwiches…hm? Ice cream? Mary? Yes, okay then, after you finish those we'll get a treat…remind me to get extra napkins, you know it'll end up all over Louis's chin…"

"Oh, guys, look at this! There's a tuatara, right there! Oh, they're so cool…did you know they have a third eye? Right on the tops of their heads…amazing little creatures. Like little…little dinosaurs."

"Quiet, Alma, we must be quiet in here…don't wander off, it's too dark to keep an eye on you…hold your mum's hand, Louis, there's a good lad. Ah… oh! Look, there's one! Oh, what a lovely kiwi…they're so round…such long beaks…wow." A breathy sigh. "We really are lucky here."

A startled noise. "Oh, that's loud! Are the kea…they always this loud? Certainly this one has…has a lot to say…hmph! Well, that wasn't very gentlemanly of you…yes, well, right back at you… yes, Alma, I am talking to him. Why? Well, why'd you put your hand in that tank? No, I'm not letting that go…"

"Where are…ah, there they are. What's that Louis? Oh, right, hold on, let me lift you up…you see them? How many can you count? Twelve? Well, that's a lovely little penguin family, isn't it… ALMA, do NOT climb over that barrier, thank you. Sorry, sorry about her…"

"Now, now, don't shove, you can see the seal from here…they're such lovely animals, aren't they? They remind me a little bit of…of you, Mary… no, I'm not saying you've got whiskers. Or smell like fish. You're both very…very poised, aren't you. Elegant. Well, when they’re underwater…and your hair is shiny. Nice shiny…I'm putting my foot in my mouth, aren't I? Yes, I thought so…"

"Aaand, we're back! Wasn't that a lovely day out, everyone? Yes, yes, we can go to the gift shop…pick out some things you like…oh, that's a nice book, Louis, very…educational…and a penguin? Good choice. Alma, have you found…hm, yes, of course you have. Yes, you can get the red panda…and the shirt… and the keychain…yes, yes, let's take them up to the counter, good girl…"

"Everyone got their seat belts on? Good, good, now where's the…ha, oh, right, yes, you've got the keys…alright, darlings. Let's go home."

It was at this point that his mumbling would taper off and his mouth would slacken into a contented, soft smile. Izzy and Ed would exchange a look - a meaningful, fond expression - before tightening their hold on Stede ever so slightly, and drifting off to sleep alongside him.

On the rare occasion, Stede would come out with only one sentence. Just the one. But, more often than not, it would be batshit crazy and neither Ed nor Izzy would have any sort of clue as to what the fuck he was talking about.

In the near-silence of their bedroom - nothing but the sounds of their breathing and the crickets outside, Stede spoke. Clearly, with nearly perfect enunciation and no context whatsoever.

"Mmmnot a lizard man."

And that was it.

They both glanced up at him before exchanging a very confused look and, when ten more minutes had elapsed and he'd said no more, assumed that was it for the night and settled themselves down further. It really was lovely. Being able to press their faces into his neck, into his shoulder; to be able to reach each other over his chest and stomach, touch each other, ground each other. So easy to feel safe, to feel warm, to feel…sleepy…

"...I think."

Sometimes he laughed in his dreams. A little bit breathy, a little bit sleepy; somewhere between a giggle and a chuckle. It was a very cute spectacle, and cute wasn't a word that Izzy used lightly. He was not a man to describe things as such but, when Stede's eyes crinkled and his mouth turned up and that bubbly little noise came out, there just wasn't another word to describe it.

Even with the (often) bizarre commentary that came with it.

"No…"

Giggle.

"No, don't you…"

Giggle.

"Get out of my pants, Arthur."

The first time Stede had mentioned Arthur, Izzy had been understandably confused. Ed had casually brought him up the next day, and Stede had had a lovely time reminiscing and telling stories about the 'kind-eyed' horse from his childhood.

Izzy and Ed also knew, from subsequent dreams, that he'd been made to kiss him. It was something he'd never knowingly admitted, and neither man judged him for it. Children could be, of course, complete and utter assholes.

"There's nothing there, you silly thing…stop…get your nose out…leave my pockets alone…"

Giggle.

"Oh, you are a good horse, aren't you?"

And Ed - being a complete asshole in his own, affectionate way - tried to whinny. It was a little bit pitchy, not totally horse-ish, and made Izzy cover his face with one of his hands. In response to that Ed also let out a loud, breathy snort, grinning as he did so.

Stede, of course, only giggled.

There was a night when they didn't make it to bed until nearly one in the morning, and Stede didn't fall asleep until well after two. Izzy’s head felt like mush - like someone threw adrenaline and pain relief and exhaustion into a blender before pouring the contents into his brain and giving it all a shake for good measure - and he knew that Ed could do it, knew that Ed could be the one to wake him tonight, but Izzy’s always been a stubborn bastard, so he waited too.

He can’t not dream tonight.

There’s no way he’s not dreaming tonight.

Izzy’s eyes felt like static and his foot was throbbing despite the meds they gave him and Ed knew, Ed could sense it, and was continually rubbing a soothing hand over the parts of Izzy he could reach while they were sandwiched together. His shoulder, his arm, part of his back. Every now and then he’d twist his hand up to stroke his cheek, his temple, his hairline, and those touches would be followed by a kiss to the head. Some of it was from guilt, he knew, and he’d told him a hundred times to knock it off and realize it was an accident. Ed wouldn’t, though. Not for a while. But, strangely enough - even with the pain and all the rest of it - it made Izzy feel warm. Made him feel loved.

Stede started mumbling.

“Where’s…where are the-”

His forehead creased, the space between his eyebrows pinching together.

“Th’fucking - keys.”

“Stede,” Ed said softly. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s-” His voice went up a pitch. “Fucks sake, where are the fucking keys -”

“Stede,” he repeated, louder.

“We need to - hospital-”

“You need to wake up, love.”

The tone became more panicked. “He’s fucking bleeding, Ed-”

“Stede, wake up.”

And he did. With a little gasp and his hands clenching the sheets, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead visible in the moonlight. His eyes were wide. Fearful. He seemed to take a moment to come back to himself before rolling over and reaching out, almost urgently, and his rapid breathing calmed down slightly once his hands found Izzy’s.

“Are you - is it-”

“M’fine,” Izzy murmured. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Can I check anyway?”

Even though he was bone-tired, Izzy couldn’t help but indulge in that feeling of warmth again. The sight of Stede - hair mussed, with an expression of concern and love, for him - was something he never thought he’d get used to. He nodded, let Stede move to the end of the bed and carefully pull up the covers to inspect his injury. Izzy was sure that the bandages were still in place, that the stitching was still holding up. He’d be able to feel it, surely, if it had started bleeding again - which, judging by Stede’s quick return, it wasn’t. He settled back in on Izzy’s other side, and both he and Ed found places to keep their hands on him. Like they needed to be able to touch him in order to keep him safe.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Stede whispered, not for the first time that night.

“It’s fine,” Izzy whispered back. “Not your fault.”

“My fault,” Ed muttered, to which Izzy replied - again - “It was no one’s fault. Just an accident.”

“I should’ve been more careful.”

“It was an accident.”

Which was true. It had just been one of those nights at the bar - when the place was packed and things kept going wrong, and people felt like they were stepping over each other and maybe getting a little too snippy. Ed had just finished sharpening one of the big knives, someone had bumped into him, and he’d dropped it. Simple as that. The fact that it had gone through Izzy’s foot and subsequently severed his toe was by complete chance.

“He’s right, Ed,” Stede said, reaching up to give Ed’s arm a reassuring pat. “It was just - unlucky. No one’s fault.” Then he sighed, his expression changing into something somewhat remorseful. “It is a shame we didn’t realize, though. That we could’ve saved it.”

That was a fair statement. Initially - after the panic and the yelling and the chaos - they’d all assumed it was more like a stab wound. That the best course of action was to leave the knife in to try and keep the wound closed, and to keep his foot as still as possible on the drive to A&E. They hadn’t realized until a nurse removed the shoe that the toe had actually been cut off and that, if they’d immediately gotten it on ice, it probably could have been stitched back on. It was a shame, yeah, but Izzy wasn’t too put out about it. The sharpness of the knife meant that it had been a rather clean cut and, according to the doctor, once it was all healed up he’d be able to walk just fine.

Izzy shrugged, opened his mouth to reply, and was instead overcome with a wide, jaw-cracking yawn. Stede tutted, but not at him.

“Sorry, darling, you must be exhausted after all of that. Get some sleep. We’ll pamper you tomorrow.”

“S’alright.”

“Pamper the fuck out of you,” Ed echoed in agreement, letting out his own yawn. “Breakfast in bed and shit like that. Get takeaways for dinner. You can pick the movie.”

“Or we’ll cook, if you’d prefer,” Stede added.

“I’d prefer you not to make a fuss,” Izzy grumbled, despite the glowing sensation in his chest.

“Oh, nonsense,” he replied with affectionate dismissal. “Can’t expect us not to treat you, can you?

"I'd really prefer it if you didn't."

"We could get some of those yummy pastries from the bakery down the road," Ed said, ignoring him. "The chocolate things and the twisty things and those other things."

"Fantastic idea, sweetheart," Stede replied, knowing exactly what he was referring to, and sounding delighted about it. Izzy was just glad that the panic had disappeared from his voice. "I'll pop out in the morning to get some."

"I can make some eggs, as well. And toast. I won't burn it this time."

"You just want to eat marmalade."

"I always want to eat marmalade," Ed replied solemnly, which made Stede smile before his eyes lit up again.

"Oh! You know, I'm sure if we're careful, we can figure out a way to have a bath and keep your foot propped up at the same time. Can't have it getting wet, of course, but you need to be comfortable. You can choose the bath bomb. Or the oils. Whatever you want. You liked that vanilla and sandalwood, didn't you? I'm fairly confident we still have some. Or if we don't, I can easily go and get some more-"

“I love you.”

He couldn't help but say it, just as Stede couldn't seem to help the soft, pleased noise that slipped out of his mouth.

"Both of you."

The words came out fatigued; a little blurry around the edges, but the affection was still there. The emotion. He looked at them with tired, slow-blinking eyes, and they looked back with the same soft, tender adoration, tightening their grips that little bit more as they did so.

"We love you too, dear," Stede whispered.

"Better not fuckin' forget it," Ed growled playfully.

Izzy hummed, eyes slipping closed and a contented little smile appearing at the corners of his mouth, before letting out a sigh.

“Now shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

None of them had been expecting an infection.

The bandages were changed regularly. The site of the wound was allowed to air out when possible. Stede was meticulous in his checking - cramming his head with so much knowledge from Google that he had the internet equivalent of a PHD - and yet, somehow, infection still happened. It was always sore . The toe had been cut off, how could it not be? Izzy just downed his pain meds and tried not to think about it too much. And the redness wasn’t going down, no, but that was normal sometimes. People healed in their own time.

They didn’t even think about the bone - the one thing they couldn’t see - until it seemed to stop healing altogether, and Izzy began to get worse.

Staffing shortages at the hospital meant that Izzy wasn’t seen as soon as he should have been. That wasn’t the hospital’s fault. Medical staff are always overworked and underpaid, that was just a fact of the world. But it meant that by the time he got his appointment and the results of testing came back, the infection had already spread throughout his foot and was slowly but surely making its way up his leg.

It didn't respond to the first type of antibiotics.

The second seemed to slow it down, but it still wasn't healing like it was supposed to.

He was admitted to hospital and given stronger pain relief to take the edge off, but that wasn't going to fix anything.

They were told that sometimes, with bone infections, there would be a rare case in which amputation became the only option.

Izzy was one of those cases.

Ed was beside himself. He blamed himself all over again, and beat himself up on a daily basis. Stede was rather shell-shocked but, after the initial panic attack, kicked himself into action. He booked a private hospital room. He organized time off work for both himself and Ed. Izzy, who felt like absolute rubbish through all of this, could only do his best to reassure the both of them and not let his own fears about the whole thing take over. It wasn’t so much the fear of the procedure itself that scared him, or what came after - it was realizing how very much he loved both of these men, and didn’t ever want to be apart from them.

Thankfully, the surgery went without a hitch. They found infection further up than first anticipated, and it meant that the leg was taken just above his knee. Izzy didn’t remember much of the following thirty or so hours. He had vague memories of being in recovery, slept for nearly sixteen hours, and then napped on and off until his senses started working properly again. He knew that the bed wasn’t the comfiest but the pillow was okay, and that one of them - probably Stede - had brought one of their blankets from home. Both partners looked so overjoyed at seeing him properly awake that they nearly cried, but kept their voices low and their touches soothing. They doted on him, stroking his hair, kissing his fingers, showering him with so much love that it was almost overwhelming.

The surgeon came to speak to them, to talk about how well it had all gone. It was already healing so much better than the original wound. Legally, they weren’t allowed to do anything with an amputee's body parts without their permission; they offered a service in which they could cremate it and give you the ashes, or you could leave it with them and staff could dispose of it for you. In his still slightly-muddled mind Izzy thought about how strange it was to know that, somewhere in the building, part of his body was just - well, somewhere. A whole foot and ankle and part of a leg that used to be attached to him.

He told them that he didn’t want the ashes. He told them to get rid of it.

Ed and Stede tried to convince him not to make any rash decisions, to really think about it, but it wasn't really something he needed - or wanted - to think about.

This whole situation had been nothing but a whirlwind of guilt and pain and trauma - why would he want that in the house? Why would he want the reminder of what they'd endured, when the stump and the scarring would be more than enough?

So he told them, again, to get rid of it.

There were no further arguments.

He adjusted to life as an amputee because he had to.

He didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Ed and Stede were both incredibly supportive. They kept taking time off work while he recovered, both in the hospital and once he was allowed home, and they readjusted their entire schedules to fit around Izzy’s physio - which would be for at least six months - as well as appointments with the prosthetist, which began about a month after his surgery. There were about a dozen of those to attend, too. It was all a lot more involved than he thought it would be. And a little bit overwhelming sometimes, yes. Some things were harder to adjust to than others.

They talked to him about body image, but he waved that off. Not because it didn’t matter, but because he didn’t feel like it was something that would affect him . He knew who he was - he knew what he thought of himself - and having part of a leg gone didn’t change that.

Crutches became an integral part of everyday life. He was glad to get out of the wheelchair, honestly - he didn’t like the way it made him feel restricted, or the way Ed kept wondering out loud with forced casualness about how fast it could get going down the hallway - and it was nice to move around in a way that resembled regular walking. The moment that Stede heard that crutches would be a lifelong thing, even with the prosthetic, he went out and bought a pair so that Izzy wouldn’t have to keep borrowing from the hospital. Ed decorated them with stickers.

Sitting down while showering felt strange. Stede fussed at first, insisting - in the least sexual way possible - that they should help him the first few times, but Izzy refused. It was something he needed to learn to do himself. He didn't hate it, per say, but seeing that little chair become part of the bathroom furniture was just another reminder of what had happened. Ed claimed that he actually liked it being in the shower; it meant that he had a place to sit, too, if his knee started playing up. Izzy partially believed that was true. He also believed that Ed was the type of man to sit down in the shower, regardless. If they didn’t have to worry about water, he’d probably nap in there.

The phantom limb thing was a little unsettling. Scrap that, actually - a lot unsettling. Feeling pain in a limb that was not there anymore was something Izzy had a hard time describing. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, either. Sometimes it wasn’t even pain; just the sensation of being there, like it had never been taken in the first place, and for half a second each time he’d almost be able to kid himself into believing it. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

Safe to say that, for the good part of half a year, it was a rather hectic and emotional time for the Bonnet-Hands-Teach household. It was a huge relief when things started to wind down - when his final prosthetic came, the weekly appointments wrapped up, and everyone felt safe in returning to normal work hours - and, surprisingly, when Ed felt he could start teasing again. Izzy hadn’t quite realized how much he’d missed the verbal poking and prodding until it returned; even though, as was the usual, said poking and prodding was directed at him.

He hadn’t been for a haircut since before all of this happened. It had been the last thing on his mind, what with him being preoccupied by learning to walk again and so on, but it also meant that his hair had grown to the longest it had ever been. Which, compared to Ed’s hair, wasn’t really all that long. But it was long enough to tie back into a little bun - something Ed discovered, and then proceeded to torment him about relentlessly.

“You look like a fucking hipster!” he’d crowed with delight, clapping his hands together as he’d giggled.

“I think he looks very handsome,” Stede had said loyally, which Ed had ignored in favor of carrying on with his own joke.

“All you need are some glasses and a scarf and you’re ready to go into a coffee shop and pay like forty bucks for some oatmeal matcha caramel - fuckin’ - non-fat soy cocoa fuckin’ powder iced latte shit- ”

Stede had tutted while Ed laughed, shook his head, and turned his lovely smile onto Izzy. “You look very handsome, dear,” he’d told him earnestly, gently combing back a few loose strands and tucking them behind his ear. “You always look very handsome. Besides, he’s the one who spends far too much at the coffee shop each week. Bit hypocritical if you ask me.”

It was true.

Ed’s dislike towards capitalism was strong, but his desire for pink drinks and completely over-sugared coffees was stronger.

The teasing was dropped at some point during the day - Ed informing them that it would continue tomorrow, don’t worry about that - but Stede unknowingly started up the lighthearted debate again while in the depths of sleep.

“Oh, Ed, stop it,” he mumbled, which - considering it was Ed - didn’t give them a huge amount of context, until he continued, “it looks fine.”

“He looks like a hipster.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Come on, love, you can be honest with me,” Ed tried to coax him. “Izzy’s not here-”

Izzy kicked him in the ankle.

“-so you can tell me what you really think of it. It’s hipster hair, right? Little fuckin’ hipster hair bun.”

Stede made an uncertain humming noise, like he was deliberating, and a little crease appeared between his brows. “S’not…not hipster…oh, he won’t like what I think…”

“Tell me,” Ed said eagerly. “Tell me-”

“I think…”

“Yes?”

“Well…it’s rather…”

“Yes?”

“Cute.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Cute?” Ed repeated, sounding utterly betrayed.

Izzy, meanwhile, was trying hard to repress a rather large grin - and perhaps a small amount of blush.

“Mhm.” Stede’s expression relaxed. “S’very cute.”

“You…you don’t think he looks like a hipster?” he tried again, with a tiny bit of desperation. "Even just a little bit?"

“Handsome,” was Stede’s response, his mouth turning up at the corners. “He’s always handsome. And dashing. Always dashing.”

Izzy’s heart sang happily in his chest.

On the contrary, he could feel Ed pouting.

As if he could sense it, Stede’s hand clumsily patted at Ed’s chest. “You’re handsome too, darling,” he said soothingly. “My two handsome boys.”

It didn’t quite make up for Stede managing to shut down Ed’s teasing in his sleep, and Stede was obviously a bit confused as to why Ed was a bit cool with him over breakfast.

On the flipside, he certainly had no qualms with Izzy sitting on his lap for most of the morning and kissing him silly.

There came a time when the apartment began to feel too small.

The bathroom situation was fine - there was both a main and an en suite, so no one was ever left waiting. The main bedroom itself was a decent size, but on summer nights the king bed felt just a little bit cramped (and far too warm). Stede's collection of clothes had grown. The kitchen, living, and dining rooms were fine when it was just the three of them - open-plan in a snug, cozy sort of way - but whenever the kids came to visit, you began to crave space. Stede was upset that they couldn't stay over; it was only a two bedroom place, and the office had no room for a bed.

So, naturally, the conversation began to arise about finding someplace new.

And, just as naturally, Ed began to try and put ideas into Stede's head while he was sleeping.

“Grand piano,” he breathed into Stede’s ear. “Big fucking grand piano in the lounge. One of those fridges with the fancy ice maker. Uhh…theater room. Ball pit room. Massive bath for bath parties. And a swimming pool,” he added on. “We need a swimming pool.”

He paused to lovingly kick Izzy’s shin under the covers.

“Put your two cents in, mate, don’t let me decide everything.”

As if Stede was actually going to agree to everything coming out of Ed’s mouth.

“A place for my swords would be nice,” Izzy murmured, although he felt weird in doing so. Wanting things and expressing that want still seemed foreign to him sometimes. Like other people were allowed to do so, but that different rules should apply to him. Still, he was trying. It had taken this long for him to find something he really had an interest in - replica swords were rather fascinating, he’d found - and he had a modest collection of five. He suspected that one day Stede might do something stupid for him, such as buying an actual sword from the 1700’s or some other ridiculous thing like that, but honestly, he’d just be happy with a proper place to put them. Right now they were stored in the wardrobe, which seemed a shame, as he thought they were something to admire rather than hide away.

“Weapons room,” Ed whispered, sounding far too excited about that.

“No weapons room,” Izzy whispered back. “Just a nice rack, or something.”

“You’ve already got a nice rack.”

“Oh, aren’t you hilarious.”

Ed snickered - clearly thinking he was - before making a little noise and adding on, “Spa next to the swimming pool.”

“How often are you going to use a spa, realistically?”

“If I have one, I’ll use one,” Ed argued. “It’ll be good for my knee and your tired old bones.”

Izzy scoffed. “My bones are not old. ”

“Sure, sure.” He moved his mouth to rest near Stede’s ear again, voice dropping back down. “Weapons room. Spa. Swim-”

“-ming pool?” Stede suddenly mumbled.

“Yes,” Ed breathed, a grin flashing across his face. “The new house should have a pool.”

“Mhm?”

“Think about all the cute little swim shorts you could buy. A whole new collection for the auxiliary wardrobe. And you know the kids would love it."

Stede didn’t respond with words, but the noise he made was certainly a happy one.

"We can get some of those inflatable pool toys. The pizza slice and the flamingo and cool shit like that."

"A pool is…a lot of maintenance, darling…"

“I’ll clean it,” Ed promised. “I can be like - the sexy pool boy.”

Izzy rolled his eyes, but Stede appeared to blush in his sleep.

“It’ll be great,” he insisted. “We can go for morning swims, and afternoon swims, and night swims…we can be water babies at home. We all love the beach, so why not?”

That was a fair statement. The three of them did love the beach, and visited as much as work would allow. Something about the sand and the ocean and the open sky enticed them in different ways; the raw beauty of it, the expansiveness of it. The warmth on their skin and the salty breeze in their hair. None of them cared much for the crowds - they would try to find secluded spots, away from families and tourists and anyone else they could manage to avoid - and even though Ed would often complain about sand in his beard, he’d still insist on being partially buried each time they went. He’d have his toes poking out at one end and his head propped up out of the other, resting against the cooler bag with sunglasses on to shield his eyes while he watched Stede look for shells in the tide pools. Izzy would watch the both of them, and the waves, and constantly keep an eye on their belongings to make sure sand fleas didn’t get in where they weren’t wanted.

“A pool…might be nice,” Izzy admitted.

Even in his sleep, Stede seemed to be deeply considering their words.

“Well…I suppose…”

Ed was practically vibrating.

“That does all sound…sound fun…yes. Alright. Let’s get a pool.”

“And a spa?”

“...sure, why not?”

Yes!” Ed hissed, and Izzy knew that if he weren’t in bed, he’d probably be punching the air right about now. “Swimming pool, and a spa pool, and a weapons room!”

Stede’s face, which had relaxed into a pleased, contented smile, creased into an expression of vague concern.

“...weapons room?”

It took a few months, but they eventually settled on a place.

Unfurnished - their preference, so they could decorate it how they pleased - and Ed got so excited on move-in day, he ran around the entirety of the house in an adrenaline-induced frenzy so that he could touch all of the walls and let his maniacal laughter fill each empty room. It was like a way of announcing their presence; a way of saying, we’re here, we’re home.

Compared to the apartment they were sharing, it felt like a fucking palace.

It’s not an apartment, for one thing. They’re on nearly two acres of land, which is more than any of them really know what to do with. Ed loves the open space - he flings himself down on the ground a few times a week, clutching the grass between his fingers, and will spend hours just letting himself take in the sunshine and the serenity of it all. It’s good for all of them to be a little further out from the city, but especially him. They lucked out with location, actually. It’s about a ten minute drive from the hustle and bustle but it feels like further, and the way the house is situated means that neighbors can’t see the backyard. Izzy and Stede both like their privacy, and Ed likes to be able to walk around naked without anyone making a complaint, so it’s a win-win.

The interior was more than Izzy thought he could ever have. The master bedroom was fucking huge - room enough for a Wyoming King bed, which Izzy didn’t even know existed - as was the attached bathroom, and the walk-in wardrobe that Stede physically weeped over. There were four other bedrooms; one becoming the designated shared office space, two being set aside for guests, and a spare that they were still debating what to do with. Ed wanted to turn it into a ball pit room since he was ‘cheated out of’ his sunken lounge, and sulked when both Izzy and Stede vetoed that idea. They couldn’t even turn it into a theater room because, lo and behold, the house already had one downstairs - fully kitted out with a projector screen, a popcorn machine, and cushy leather armchairs which Ed declared they were legally obligated to fuck on one day. Stede was all for it, as long as they put down a blanket first. Rambled on about leather being hard to clean, or something like that. Izzy wasn’t entirely sure. His mind had wandered elsewhere.

The kitchen was something out of a magazine. Double ovens - which Izzy privately thought was kind of silly for them to have, considering there was only the three of them and they hardly ever hosted anything - but there was also a sink that could actually fit baking pans without sloshing water over the sides, and a dishwasher for when they were feeling lazy. They stuck one of those little magnets on there that you’re supposed to turn to show whether the dishes inside are clean or dirty. Izzy reckoned it would take less than a week for them to forget to use it. The counters were a particularly pretty quartz, as far as slabs of stone go, and the cupboards had a little bit of detailing on the panels. Everything emitted a ‘modern, but cozy’ vibe. It was like an HGTV wet dream.

It may not have been sunken, but the lounge was nice and spacious. They finally had room for one of those big L-shaped couches they’d talked about wanting for ages. Stede liked that they would be able to spread out, and not have to be squashed up against each other. Ed, again, insisted that they were legally obligated to fuck on it. Izzy could see the appeal, but he could also see the potential for some really good naps on that thing, and that made him equally excited.

The pool was actually pretty fucking awesome. It technically wasn’t an indoor pool, but it had a massive frame built around the outside and clear rollers that could either go up or down depending on if you wanted to let the breeze in or keep the bugs out. Indoor-outdoor flow, it was apparently called. And of course there was also the patio, with the wood-fired pizza oven and the outdoor dining area. Two gardens; one for flowers, which sort of spread around the property so Izzy wasn’t entirely sure could count as just one , and the other was made up of planters for vegetables and herbs. There were even a couple of lemon trees. It made the place feel more domestic, more homey.

It actually terrified Izzy, a little bit. Everything was just a lot to take in and, considering he never thought he'd have this kind of lifestyle - especially with not one, but two beloved partners - him feeling overwhelmed was completely understandable. Ed had some similar feelings in regards to not quite being able to believe that he could have this, but he didn't seem to have the underlying fear of it all being taken away, and he wasn't intimidated by the big TV or the fancy coffee machine or the fact that they had three whole fucking bathrooms. In fact, he and Stede were loving the expansive space. Back in the apartment, they'd gotten creative with storage and filled it up with as much as they could; moving here, it was like their stuff barely took up a quarter of the house. They didn't have a small amount of things - their amount of belongings was very adequate, and Izzy didn't think they needed all that much more - but Ed and Stede were continually making lists of things they could buy, and getting excited over the idea of furniture shopping. Izzy mostly stayed out of those conversations. Coming from nothing and being the most money-conscious of the three, the idea of spending up large made him…uncomfortable. Honestly, he wasn't sure how they'd convinced him to agree to this house in the first place.

Even in his sleep, Stede was shopping.

Ed, of course, was encouraging him.

Izzy was trying to be the voice of reason.

They were curled up in bed. Izzy thought it was funny that it offered so much space, but they still tried to cuddle up as close as possible when they were tucked in together. Funny, and sweet. It was just another one of those things that made him feel loved.

“Puh…pillows,” Stede mumbled.

“We’ve got enough pillows,” Izzy quietly told him.

“Nah, you can never have too many pillows, mate,” was Ed’s response. “Fuck it, we’ll get a few more. I want to try one of those - whatsit ones - the big curvy doodads.”

“Those are maternity pillows, Ed.”

“They look comfy as fuck.”

“T…towels?” Stede asked, forehead creasing slightly.

“We’ve got enough towels,” Izzy reassured him.

“We could do with a few more,” Ed mused. “I saw some really funky tea towels in a Briscoes ad. We should pop down there next time they have a sale.”

“Briscoes are always having a sale.”

“Briscoes, you’ll never buy better,” he hummed under his breath, before saying, “There’s always a sale because the Briscoes lady loves us. She’s a national icon.”

“M…mugs?” Stede questioned. “D’we need more mugs?”

“We have absolutely got enough mugs.”

Ed made a humming noise.

“Ed.”

“What?” he said, and Izzy could almost hear him raising his hands in defense. “I like having a variety. It makes the cupboard look all nice and colorful.”

“You’ve already got, like, eight.”

“And I could do with six more.”

“R…rugs?” Stede asked, almost hopefully.

Izzy opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

“Maybe,” he eventually conceded. “And bath mats, actually. We’ve only got the one.”

“You sure that’s not too wild for you, Iz? Rugs and bath mats?”

“Shut up.”

“Should we…chairs?”

“No, love, we should not chairs-”

“I would love a beanbag,” Ed interrupted him, sighing dreamily. “I’ve always wanted a beanbag.”

Which was true, admittedly.

“Yeah, alright, fine, we’ll get you a beanbag.”

“Yus!”

“One beanbag, Ed, I know you, you’re not getting five of them-”

“Shar…cue…”

The two of them paused, frowning slightly.

“What was that, babe?” Ed prompted him.

“Sh…shar…cue…cue tea…”

Ed’s face scrunched up. “Shark cutie?”

“B…boar…”

The sounds floated around in Izzy’s head for a moment before clicking into place. “Charcuterie board,” he translated. “I think.”

“Fuck is that?”

“That block of wood people put cheese and ham and crackers on to try and make themselves look fancy.”

“Oh. Oh!” Ed whispered excitedly. “Fuck yeah, let’s get a shark-cutie board! Stede will have so much fun decorating one of those.”

“It’s just to show off.”

“So? Let him show off. What matters is that there will be food, and then we get to eat it.” He cocked his head slightly, lost in thought for a moment, before letting out a small gasp. "Aw, fuck, Iz , why haven't we talked about all the food makers we can get? Waffle maker! Crepe maker! Cotton candy maker!"

"You're going to rot your fucking teeth."

"You'd still kiss me if I was all gummy, right? Let me slobber all over you?"

"As if you don't do that half the time, anyway."

"You like it," Ed growled playfully, squeezing his ass. "And you'll like having a waffle maker. I'll make you breakfast in bed." He tilted his head up, pressing a kiss to Stede's jaw before whispering, "we're going to buy a waffle maker."

"...'ffle maker?"

"Yes. We're going to buy one."

He seemed to consider this for a moment. "...m'kay."

"Yaaay."

"Yaaay," Stede echoed sleepily.

Izzy knew there was no use fighting them.

A waffle maker wasn't so bad, really. Hopefully that would get some of the urge out of his system, and he'd focus on more practical purchases instead.

In the meantime, he'd also cross his fingers that Ed would forget about the existence of chocolate fountains.

Ed was afraid of spiders. He might have made that idiotic decision back in his early university days to get those tattoos in an attempt to 'help him get over his fear', but it had been a stupid idea - which Izzy had explicitly told him at the time - and absolutely had not worked.

The one thing that Ed seemed to miss about the apartment was the lack of insects that managed to make their way inside. Being on the fifth floor had meant that creepy crawlies rarely made their way that far up the building and, because they'd had fewer windows, it had been easy for him to keep up a strict patrol. Here in the house - with windows here, there, and everywhere, as well as the pool and the yard literally being on their doorstep - there was a much higher chance of him coming face to face with his eight-legged nemesis.

When that happened, Izzy and Stede knew about it.

The first thing they heard was the scream - or a high-pitched shrieking, depending on the size of the offending arachnid - which was promptly followed by some sort of expletive. There had been many a "HO-LY SHIT" and "AWH HELL NO, FUCK RIGHT OFF" and, once, a "JIMINEY FUCKING CRICKET" when the kids were staying over and he'd been trying not to swear as much. Obviously his incentive hadn't worked, but his heart had been in the right place.

Either Izzy or Stede would go to investigate, and find Ed in a variety of positions. Up on a chair, plastered against a wall, sometimes on the kitchen bench and, occasionally, in the pool after having thrown himself in there out of impulsive panic. They'd then have to locate the spider by deciphering Ed’s garbled nonsense and trying to figure out where he was pointing. He'd describe it as though they were about to face Shelob herself but, most of the time, they were hardly bigger than a two dollar coin. No sword needed; an empty jam jar and a piece of folded paper would easily suffice. Jumping spiders would be gently brushed outside and, to Ed's horror, Stede was unbothered enough to scoop up any daddy longlegs he found with his bare hands and put them back in the garden.

On a day when Ed had been deeply and personally traumatized (a spider ran over his foot, and he'd jumped so violently that Izzy had spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the shattered remains of Ed's mug and figuring out how to get coffee stains off the ceiling), it stuck with Stede enough that the little critters showed up in that night's dream.

"No-o-o," he murmured sternly. "No, I'm sorry, I can't have you in here…Ed doesn't like it…there are plenty of places outside for you to live…for free…you don't even pay rent here…"

Ed might have been afraid of spiders.

It didn't mean he'd pass up the opportunity to mess with his darling dearest by pretending to be one.

"Why, I do pay rent, Mr. Bonnet," he replied in a hushed, higher-pitched tone, putting a little southern twang in there as he did so. "Mayhaps you should check your facts first before you come and point the finger at lil ol' me. I ain't done nuthin' wrong, sir."

"Oh." Stede's brow creased in confusion. "Um." He shifted slightly in his sleep, as though he was uncomfortable. Embarrassed. "Is that, um…is that right?"

"Certainly, sir. I'm always very careful to pay my rent on time. You've got such a lovely house, Mr. Bonnet, and I do love living here ever so much."

Stede's mouth twitched up in a smile and, in the moonlight, a faint blush appeared on his cheeks.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you t'say."

"Not to mention you're such a lovely landlord, Mr. Bonnet. So kind, and so… handsome."

Izzy was inclined to say that Stede almost preened.

What a bloody peacock.

"Oh, I - I don't know about that-"

"Now, now, Mr. Bonnet, don't be shy. Everyone around here says so."

"...do they?"

"Oh my word , yes! And you've got such fine taste. We just love to admire your wardrobe. Of course…"

Ed started to slowly walk his fingers up Stede's bare chest, a wicked grin on his face.

"We'd also be very interested to see what you've got… underneath."

A surprised, high-pitched noise came out of Stede's nose; almost a laugh, but slightly missing the mark.

Ed shifted his head closer to whisper into his ear.

"I'll take off mine, if you take off yours."

Izzy wasn't sure what Stede was envisioning in his head - the idea of a spider taking its clothes off couldn't have been pleasant - but it was enough that he let out a loud, startled snort, and subsequently woke himself up.

He hardly ever woke up when they were messing with his dreams but, if he ever did, they had a simple, foolproof plan to avoid detection.

They pretended to be very deeply, and very innocently, asleep.

Smiles gone, bodies relaxed, breathing deep and even. Sometimes Ed would throw in a quiet, snuffling snore to really try and sell it. Who could possibly try to accuse them of such crimes? Certainly not Stede.

They heard him rub at his face. Mumble something to himself that sounded a lot like well, that was an odd one. When he got up to use the bathroom Izzy and Ed allowed themselves a quiet, private giggle with each other, before falling silent again as Stede returned and slipped back into bed. He leaned over to kiss each of them on the temple - the sweet gesture making Izzy's chest bloom with warmth - before snuggling down under the covers, and falling asleep a few minutes later.

Every now and then Izzy wondered, should we feel guilty about what we're doing, when Stede is so oblivious to it all?

But then the next day he watched Stede catch a spider - bring the jar up to his face to inspect it closely, give a disdainful sniff, and mutter you don't pay rent - before releasing it outside.

And then Izzy thought, nah.

Stede's dreams started becoming strange and, considering half of them were already nonsense, that was saying something.

It seemed as though he kept having the same one - and if not the same, they were definitely related - and it baffled both Izzy and Ed, because they couldn't figure out what they were about. They didn't think it was from a memory, because it seemed too vague a thing for him to be continually reminiscing in his sleep. In saying that, however, they couldn't think of anything recent happening that would have triggered these sorts of dreams.

He spoke in hushed, mumbled tones, and it sounded as though he was…planning something, maybe? Which confused them all the more - no one in their friend group had a birthday coming up, and their three year anniversary wasn't for another few months. They catch words such as venue and ceremony - he seemed to ask something incoherent to Mary, once, so Ed wondered if maybe he was remembering the time leading up to his wedding - but that theory just…didn't seem to fit, for whatever reason. Three times in one week he seemed to be stressing about flowers, of all things, but he had no gardening projects going on at the time. It was puzzling and, in all honesty, somewhat infuriating. Not being able to ask Stede outright made things frustrating. The funny thing, though, was that nothing seemed to be bothering him in the waking world. If anything, he always seemed to be in a rather cheerful, affectionate mood. Things just weren't adding up.

There's one night when he only says two words, which are accompanied by a soft, reverent sigh - "They're perfect."

All of this cryptic nonsense goes on for almost a month.

Then one day Izzy came home, and found all of his questions answered.

He knew Stede was out for work, but what struck him as odd was that the house was quiet. Ed never missed an opportunity when home alone to put the speakers through their paces, and put on a full operatic concert for one. Both him and Stede had walked inside on multiple occasions to find Ed standing on the coffee table, feather boa wrapped around his neck and a hairbrush in his hand, belting out some Queen or Prince number for the sake of his own chaotic enjoyment.

The silence was unsettling.

"Ed?" he called out, his voice echoing slightly. "You in, love?"

There was a long pause, and then-

"I'm - I'm in the office," came Ed's tentative, somewhat strained reply.

There was a sense of foreboding in his gut as Izzy went to find him, a frown already settling across his face and, when he looked through the door, his anxiety only grew.

Ed was sitting on the little couch - one leg tucked up, an arm wrapped around his knee - and the other was down, jiggling at a rapid face. His free hand was covering his mouth, and his eyes were wide and staring and panicked; he barely glanced up when Izzy crossed the room and sat down beside him, loosely draping an arm around his shoulders.

"Ed?" he asked softly. "Ed, what's going on?"

A few seconds later, like the words were delayed in reaching him, Ed slowly pulled his hand away from his face. His mouth opened, but nothing came out - just a tiny, raspy little noise.

"Talk to me, love," Izzy coaxed him gently.

"I - I didn't go looking," Ed whispered, licking his lips nervously. "I swear, I didn't do it on purpose."

Izzy frowned again. "Do what?"

Once again his mouth tried to shape itself around a few different words, but it took a moment for the sounds to actually form.

"I…" He paused to swallow hard. "I know what Stede's been dreaming about. I swear, Izzy, I didn't mean to find them."

His eyes were still locked on something across the room. Izzy finally turned to follow his gaze, trying to figure out what he was looking out, what could have possibly caused this kind of reaction-

A choked noise came out of his throat.

He could see them.

Sitting there.

So small, but somehow filling his whole vision.

Taking up the whole room.

"Is that - are those-"

"Yeah," Ed breathed.

Izzy forced himself upwards, crossing the room in a sort of trance, still unable to comprehend what his frazzled brain was trying to tell him.

There were two ring boxes sitting on the desk.

Opened.

Inside each one, a ring was nestled in the black velvety cushion.

Silver. Wider than the standard ring - about half an inch - and, when Izzy picked up one of the boxes for closer inspection, he understood why.

His knees, suddenly weak, threatened to give out; he pulled the nearest spinny chair closer and sat down.

They were engraved.

Not with names, or dates, or any words at all.

A seamless pattern wound its way around the circumference of the ring; flowers, swallows, and the phases of the moon. The detailing was exquisite.

It was them.

Izzy felt his eyes begin to blur.

"Fuck," he croaked.

"I feel so guilty," Ed whispered. "I was just looking for the bloody stapler. He knows I don't work in here much, and he knows you don't touch his stuff…he must have thought they were safe in here." He paused to sniffle, his voice sounding as though he was threatening to cry. "I didn't…I didn't believe it at first, you know? I thought maybe I was jumping the gun, so I…"

He buried his head in his hands.

"Fuck, Izzy, I didn't mean to find them, but I couldn't help myself, I fuckin' - I checked his search history. I wanted…I needed to be sure."

"What…what did you find?" Izzy heard himself ask.

"He's got a list of people saved who can officiate three-way commitment ceremonies. He's been looking at venues. He's planning floral arrangements." Ed looked up again, eyes brimming with tears; a few slipped over and ran down his cheeks. "Izzy, he's going to propose."

Izzy tried to swallow, but it felt as though there was a lump lodged in his throat.

He's going to propose.

His head felt dizzy. The world felt as though it was spinning. He put the box back on the desk with a shaking hand, trying and failing to come up with a coherent thought.

Part of him was terrified - absolutely petrified - at the prospect of such a thing. Not because he didn't want it, but because he was still so scared of it being taken away.

But he wouldn't propose, would he, if he didn't love you, the logical voice in his head pointed out amongst the chaos rattling around in his skull. He wants this to be forever, because he loves you.

He loves you.

He loves you.

And you love him.

And you love Ed.

And they love you.

He sucked in a sharp breath, clarity cutting through some of the mental fog. His eyes strayed downwards to the ring boxes again and, suddenly, a very important question came to mind.

"There's only two rings."

Ed let out a weak, wet chuckle. "Yeah. I, um." He scratched the back of his head, looking guilty. "I might have checked his emails, too. Just to be sure sure. He's only gotten two in case we say no - the ringmaker is waiting to hear back from him, before they make Stede’s."

"He thinks we'll say no?"

"Maybe he's just as scared as we are."

And that - that just won't do. Izzy squared his shoulders, his brain and body suddenly filled with a hot, fierce kind of determination.

We love him.

We love him.

We love him.

"Put the rings back where you found them," he instructed Ed, "and then get back over here and help me."

"What are we doing?" he asked, brows scrunching.

"We're going to send an email," Izzy replied, soft and firm, "telling them to make the third."

Ed's face broke open like the sun through the clouds, and he beamed.

There are rings on their fingers, and Izzy’s chest feels as though it’s going to burst.

Tears are still threatening to well up in the corners of his eyes - goodness knows he’s done enough crying today to last him a week - but he can’t help it.

He hadn’t known a happiness like this could be for someone like him.

He feels so full, so warm, so loved.

Being curled up around his two favorite people in the world, limbs and hearts so thoroughly tangled you can hardly tell where one of them ends and the other begins, is the kind of domestic, overwhelmingly joyous bliss he never thought he’d have.

He’s never been so content with everything in all of his life.

Part of him never wants this moment to end.

The other part is excited to see what tomorrow will bring.

And that in itself is a truly wondrous thing.

“My boys,” Stede mumbles softly. “My lovely boys. So good to me…so good."

Ed squeezes the both of them, peppering kisses over whoever’s body parts his mouth can reach.

Izzy tries to shift himself closer, desperate to take up as much space with them as he  possibly can.

“I love you,” Stede sighs, and smiles while he dreams. “I love you.”