#linssifanfiction
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Pivot Points - Chapter 3: Crawling Forwards
Masterpost / AO3
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
CW: depression, mentions of another person's self-harm
That's the last fucking time I set a deadline for myself. I was well on the way to finishing this chapter by end of December 2023, then mental health stuff happened and I couldn't even think of writing for a full month, then I lost inspiration and didn't write a word for another month and a half. I wouldn't say I'm happy with this chapter, especially the second half. But I've been editing, deleting, and rearranging scenes so much I lost track of the chronologial order. So this is the best I can do unless I keep polishing it for maybe ten years.
The good thing is I can finally watch season 2! I was careful about avoiding spoilers because I'm absolutely the type that goes "Oh, now my fic isn't canon-compliant anymore..." and never writes another word. So now, if I end up fully abandoning this fic, I'll at least have finished the angst arc.
--
Ed’s feeding the chickens, dropping seeds of this and that on the floor. He’s being slow about it, annoying the chickens, making them complain with loud clucking, and if he weren’t so desperate for alone time, he’d would’ve been done with the task in minutes. He’s not sure how long it’s been, but he knows for a fact he should’ve been already finished his next task. No one will yell at him, but they’ll be disappointed and annoyed. Stede, too, though he’ll also be worried. He’d seen the mood Ed was in first thing in the morning, and hadn’t asked. Just been his wonderful, supporting self and offered a few words of sympathy, but didn’t try to talk about it.
Thing is, Ed does want to speak about it. Maybe. He’s not sure - he’d have to try first to know. It’s complicated - most things concerning Izzy are.
It’s the ring. Seeing it in its new place has thrown him into an unexpected loop. It’s been on Izzy’s cravat every single day for over 20 years now, it’s a sight older and more familiar than even the Queen Anne’s Revenge. It had taken him a while to put two and two together - but the way Izzy wore it dutifully, ecstatically, every single day, eventually tipped him off. Ed still doesn’t know when Bellamy had the opportunity to sneak in with his last ditch effort to win Izzy back since he’d rather not hear Izzy’s starry-eyed accounts of their final tryst. He had hated the reminder of Izzy’s ex at first, and wanted few things more than to throw it into the sea, but eventually he grew to rather like the sight of the ring on Izzy’s cravat. Reminded everyone that Ed had won out in the end, definitively. Bellamy’s ring was there, as a reminder to everyone that he carried the memory of Bellamy with him - but not on his ring finger. Because he belonged to Ed. And as Ed’s feelings towards Izzy cooled over the years, the ring stopped raising strong emotions. It was just there, a pleasant reminder, but nothing more.
But now that it’s on his finger. Now it suddenly matters again. Matters that Izzy has retroactively chosen Bellamy in Ed’s stead. After first making him think he was letting go of all his past, starting completely fresh. Forgetting both Ed and Bellamy. And Ed was happy about that, liked that Izzy was able to move on. He honestly liked that. It gave him the freedom to be with Stede without guilt or danger.
So why does he want to hide from everyone? Why does he feel like shit again? Last night he’d been cocooning, then Stede came up with his plan on what to do with Izzy and he’d felt like the worst asshole in the world, until they workshopped the details and Ed felt ecstatic again, then worry and guilt snuck back in during the night when everything should've been clear and dealt with. It’s not fair on Stede, he knows, pining after someone he moved on from years ago.
It’s just... He’s so used to Iz being his. His little attack dog, his efficient first mate, his prized possession. All these years Izzy has been so devoted to Ed, and now suddenly having that reversal of loyalty shoved in his face... yeah. So he’s reeling. Because life has a lot of constants. Sun will rise, wars will be fought, Izzy will belong to you.
“Ed?” the Swede calls from somewhere, Ed’s not sure where - the hold is a bit of a maze, with all its rooms and corridors. He briefly considers not answering, not ready to stop hiding by a long shot, but he does have other work to do and it doesn’t feel fair to dump them on the others.
“With the chickens!” Ed answers, throwing out the remaining feed without ceremony and the chickens pounce on the pile like birds of prey. Maybe that’s what they were supposed to be, at first, until God decided otherwise - Ed has seen them peck one of their own flock to death. Dormant predatory instincts coming to life at the sight of blood.
Something like Izzy, though not really, but lately every thought will find the flimsiest excuses to find its way to Izzy. Probably will for a while. He suddenly longs for the days it used to be for good reasons.
“Still?” the Swede asks in that innocently judgemental tone of his.
“Yeah”, Ed mutters, too quiet for anyone but the chickens to hear. They must be as annoyed with him as he himself is. “Be up in a minute.”
“Buttons is looking for you”, the Swede informs as he finally comes into view. He seems to take note of Ed’s sullen face, and maybe it scares him a little because this is what Ed used to look like before turning into the Kraken.
“I’m fine”, Ed says, though he doesn’t mean that he’s fine. He’s sure the Swede understands. “I’ll go soon. Just need a minute.”
“Should we have a talk circle?” the Swede asks carefully, and usually Ed would agree. But something about him is uncomfortable talking about this with anyone but possibly Stede.
“Not yet. Need to sort things out a bit.”
The Swede looks at him with worry, which is understandable, because again, the Kraken. Then he nods uncertainly and leaves. Ed heaves a deep sigh and tries to gather himself. He doesn’t often have trouble pulling energy from his charismatic side, but it’s been harder since the whole - he’s hesitant to call it abandonment since Stede had come back, and wouldn’t have left it in the first place if that fucking asshole Badminton hadn’t fucked things up for all of them, but it sure as hell felt like abandonment at the time. And sometimes it still does, especially at night when the knee aches and won’t let him sleep.
And now this situation with Izzy. Ed is starting to think maybe he isn’t as good with people as he thought. But even then, his attempt to pull himself together isn’t totally futile, though it does leave a lot to be desired. He manages to form a mostly carefree demeanor, which would fall apart under some scrutiny.
Luckily Buttons gets the answer to his question in under a minute - double checking their heading and consulting the winds - and is then distracted by Olivia so he notices nothing. The rest are - more or less - working on their tasks and are equally oblivious, and pay no mind to Ed emerging from his eons-long task of feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs - shit, he forgot the eggs! He turns to go back under deck -
-and sees Izzy walking up to him.
Ed really might die right there and then. Bellamy’s ring is still on Izzy’s finger, bandages around his neck, and Ed is responsible for both. Everything about Izzy’s face and body betrays discomfort that’s only trumped by dutifulness. For once in his life, Ed would’ve preferred Izzy to be less professional and just avoid him. Ed isn’t even a captain anymore! Technically he doesn’t have a rank, but practically he’s a deckhand so there isn’t any reason for Izzy to report to him anymore!
But life has a lot of constants. The sun will rise, wars will be fought, Izzy will worship you. He’ll idolize you until it makes you sick to your stomach, then he’ll say some mean things because he hates it when you’re just human, and then at the end of the day he’ll go back to being your loyal first mate. Because he needs someone to worship, and if there’s no one worthy around, then he’ll decide someone’s worthy. And then he won’t betray that person.
Until that person falls in love, then Izzy will sell that lover out to the English in a fit of religious rage, because his god won’t follow his rules of worship, because he’s a person instead of an infallible being, that’s when Izzy will betray you.
Ed had held him accountable for it, of course. He’d punished Izzy for it, turned himself into the worst possible version of whatever Izzy wanted him to be. It had felt cathartic, feeding his hatred and having his vengeance, for a while at least. For a few terrifying, exhausting, miserable weeks it had felt cathartic, and then once the steam had run out of Ed’s engines he’d been left feeling... very little. The love of his life was gone, his crew was too terrified of him to even look his way, even his long-time right hand man, ever loyal, who had never shied away from his touch, who had never had a problem chewing him out for doing something stupid, who had never feared him, even Izzy wouldn’t meet his eye and only meekly obeyed what few orders Ed bothered issuing. Between the rage-filled weeks of the Kraken and the complexly elated return of Stede, Ed hadn’t really done much aside from waiting for death.
But even then, he hadn’t felt miserable enough to do it by his own hand. He couldn’t even imagine what Izzy was going through to... Fuck, how hadn’t he seen it?! Was he really so self-absorbed he couldn’t tell something was so monumentally wrong with his best friend? After all the times Izzy had noticed something was wrong, even if his terrible brand of care couldn’t make Ed feel good, he’d at least fucking noticed. And now the one time their roles were reversed, Ed was completely oblivious!
You know who would’ve noticed? Fucking Bellamy. That fucking arrogant, pish-posh, brownnose pissant. The one who would’ve been so much better to Izzy. Who wouldn’t have dressed Izzy in his colors, wouldn’t have grown bored of him, wouldn’t have done a hundred other things, and would have done a hundred other things.
“Edward.”
“Yeah, hi. Morning. Or whatever.”
Actually it’s basically noon already, but Izzy doesn’t comment on it. “Get Bonnet off my back. He’s been getting in the way all day. He keeps trying to do my job and he’s fucking shit at it”, he complains and points with his thumb over his shoulder, towards the the forecastle where Stede is talking with Oluwande, but looking nervously toward Izzy. He must still be worried about how he’s faring.
“Sorry if he’s being annoying.”
“He’s been worse”, Izzy mutters in response, but it’s not heated. “Just tired of having to redo everything after he fucks it up.”
He doesn’t much sound like Izzy, he should’ve been foaming at the mouth and cursing his heart out about this bloody fucking useless piece of shit ruining his whole fucking life or something. Doesn’t much look like Izzy, either. He’s forgone the black leather in favor of a stained, brownish linen and cotton. Ed knows it’s because leather isn’t something you can easily stretch in - even if Ed makes it look easy to dominantly and sexily lounge in his full leather get-up, it’s actually a fair feat. Up there, in the rigging... Splatting down all the way down because your pants won’t let you reach your foothold would cripple you, at the very least.
Wearing something loose and light only makes sense, but it still feels like a stab to the heart. His Izzy is supposed to wear black. Wear Ed’s colors.
Ed tries to make his tone light. “Where’d you get the clothes? Haven’t seen you in anything but black in ages.”
Clearly Izzy can tell something’s off with him, because he pauses before answering. “Bonnet’s hand-me-downs”, he claims then, but they look way too simple for Stede’s tastes. Not a ruffle or embroidered detail to be seen.
“Sure they’re not from Lucius?” They really look more like his style. The wide pant leg would look right at home on the scribe.
“Bonnet’s hand-me-downs via Spriggs”, Izzy insists for some reason. “Now shut up and let me get to work.”
“Sure, sure, princess.” He says it purely to piss Izzy off, so he could be comforted by the familiar version of him again, and immediately feels guilty about wanting him angry instead of pleased.
But wonder of all wonders, the discomfort on Izzy’s face melts to a crooked smirk. The man scoffs lightly, and responds in a vaguely playful tone.
“Between the two of us, you’re the one with long hair tied with a ribbon, and wearing a pink bathrobe. Princess.”
It’s so out of the blue that Ed lets out a startled giggle. He hasn’t heard Izzy joking in a very, very long time. Least of all at Ed’s expense.
He should be happy about this new direction Izzy has taken. And he is, of course he’s happy Izzy is no longer thinking of killing himself, happy that he seems to have reverted to back to how he used to be all those years ago when they first met, more willing to go with the flow and with the occasional joke, but it just doesn’t feel like Izzy anymore. Because the Izzy who nagged about everything and needed Edward to be his whole world had been with him for so long.
He tries hard to maintain the teasing tone, draining the rest from that well of charm, and has a feeling he’ll be left filling the well for a long time afterwards.
“Touché. Want some help with your work?” Please say no please say no please say no. I don’t have the energy.
Izzy cocks an eyebrow at him. “Seriously? You took hours just to feed the chickens.With your help I wouldn’t be done until next year. You do your job and I’ll do mine”, he says with some pride, chest puffing a little at the thought of having a real task that he’s actually allowed to do. Ed had fully expected Izzy to take his new rank as an unacceptable demotion. And while he clearly wan’t happy about it, it’s weird that he isn't bitching about it. Ed's glad, of course, but it's just... weird.
“I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“At least it’ll no longer be my fault when no one else does their job and we sink”, Izzy shrugs, and then gets to his task, Stede’s eyes following him from the forecastle but his conversation with Oluwande seems to be too important to cut short. Izzy is clearly relieved at that.
The Izzy who stayed with Bellamy would probably be something like this. Someone who Ed just barely remembers anymore, someone who doesn’t talk like the Izzy who’s been by his side for 15 years, doesn’t act like the Izzy who he’s lived with for 20 years. That Izzy would be more free with his words, more free with his emotions. More like the Izzy Ed fell in love with three decades ago.
He sincerely hopes Izzy can find peace with his new, old self, even if he has a sneaking, paralyzing suspicion it can’t happen unless Ed is out of the picture.
He looks to Stede again. The feelings he raises in Ed are much simpler, easier, more free, and yet they are not stronger than what he felt towards Izzy back when they were young and vicious together, instead of old and disillusioned. They are very different, the two men. It must be a good thing, right?
This is making his stomach turn. He needs to act before he thinks something stupid. He goes up to Stede, who is slowly succeeding in running away from Oluwande. He’s almost two whole steps further than he was a minute ago. Soon he might actually be free.
Oluwande quiets down as Ed approaches. Maybe the conversation is really done, or maybe it was about something they don’t want Ed to hear. Doesn’t matter right now. He tries to come up with something clever, or smooth, or pretty much anything that isn’t the straight-up truth. But he’s exhausted, he can barely think of any words, let alone subtle distractions that will work out for the best for everyone. And after all, why shouldn’t he say it straight? Not talking plainly is what got them into this mess in the first place.
“Izzy wants you to stop following him around. It’s annoying him.”
Stede is ashamed. “I could tell - it’s just that I’m still worried. I was trying to help.” He looks to Oluwande, who raises his hand in the universal don’t-drag-me-into-this gesture, but doesn’t walk away, either. Everyone on this ship is so damn nosy, but Ed is too tired to shoo him away.
“You keep doing things wrong so he ends up having to fix it anyway.”
“Yes, well - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bother. I just keep screwing things up -”
“You can apologize once he cools off. We all know you didn’t mean anything bad, and you did your best.”
“My best is still very bad”, Stede sniffles, but flashes a small, thankful smile. Apparently finding the right words runs even deeper in Ed than he thought.
“You’re still learning. You’ll be a natural in no time.”
“Well, since he doesn’t want me following him around, should I join you instead?” I’m sure I’d be useful at something.”
“Think I really need to be alone for awhile. Maybe an hour. I’ll come get you once I’m ready.”
Ed goes to cocoon for a bit, and emerges again once he feels like his legs won’t give out on him. He actually does manage to finish all his work that day, although they all take at least three times longer than they should, and require some support from Stede. They exchange some vague words about Izzy, how he’s doing at his new job and how they feel about his new disposition. It actually does make Ed feel a little better. Maybe tomorrow they could talk a little more.
For about a week, things are quiet. Izzy sticks to his duties and his cabin, Ed and Stede talk a little more about how they feel about thew situation, the crew tries to get used to Izzy not yelling at them at every possible moment. He does still yell a few times, naturally, this is Izzy - but when Ed reminds him of their new rule of waiting five minutes before yelling, he falls in line. One time he even witnesses Izzy quieting himself, and feel prouder than he has in a long time.
The yelling is mostly aimed at Lucius, who is spending even more time with Izzy than he used to. It seems he’s overtaken the role of Izzy’s caregiver, something Stede is a little saddened by. He says that while he understands it’s what Izzy feels more comfortable with, it feels like Lucius has deliberately pushed him aside just when he was getting closer with Izzy. He also feels rejected by Izzy.
But it’s nothing they can’t deal with, and after Izzy allows Stede to change his bandages once more, both are visibly more relaxed around each other. They exchange words every now and then, and Ed catches Izzy looking softer than usual once or twice, and Stede looks at Izzy with quiet smiles - each time, a small stone drops in Ed’s stomach.
After one more week, Izzy starts talking with the crew. It starts as just a few words every now and then, mostly following Lucius’ lead, but soon he starts actually conversing. For their part, the crew is still wary with their words, but don’t discourage Izzy from joining them. Even Roach begrudgingly lets him be. Stede is proud of them both, he talks about them like a doting dad would about his kids - not that Ed knows much about that, but he imagines that’s how it looks. Stede praises Roach for his kindness, and also compliments Izzy for playing nice - almost in those words, and Izzy explodes. Curses him out for patronizing him, and then punches him for good measure, and Ed doesn’t step in. He lurks in the sidelines while Ivan and Lucius play mediator. He is so ashamed of it - he used to daydream of them becoming friends, and now he waits with bated breath for any rift between them. He barely moved a muscle when Izzy hit Stede, for fuck’s sake! He never wanted to be the reason Stede gets hurt, and there he is , feeling guilty about the bruise for all the wrong reasons. He feels even worse when Stede goes to apologize for his poor choice of words and make up with Izzy, and Ed follows him secretly, just in case. The matter is resolved peacefully, Izzy sounding pretty poisonous at the start even if Ed can’t make out the words, but the conversation ends with him sounding just slightly annoyed, as usual. Stede steps out of the cabin looking happy, but then notices Ed and starts chastising him for eavesdropping.
That’s the first night they go to bed angry since the week Stede came back.
On February 10th they run into a small merchant ship and decide to raid it. It doesn’t seem to be carrying anything too expensive since there isn’t another ship to escort it, and it only has two guns - there’s no need for an elaborate plan. They just arm up and board, all except Stede and Lucius - Stede because he still isn’t ready to take a direct part in raids without being a liability, and Lucius because he refuses to. Not that he’d be any use with a sword, should he change his mind. The two not-quite-combatants stay aboard the Revenge and rain down cover fire - Stede is still little good with a sword, but he’s making good progress with guns. While he aims and shoots, Lucius reloads, and their teamwork is an almost perfect harmony, shots banging an almost steady beat, like a coxswain.
Izzy is still recovering, but he refuses outright to stay on the Revenge. Ed can tell he’s been itching for a chance to stab a fucker or two, so he eventually lets him come, provided he stay close to Ed so he’ll be easier to protect. Doesn’t stop Iz from breaking the promise pretty soon, but it shouldn’t be a problem - he’s slower than usual, a bit less cocksure, doing a lot more straight jabs instead of showy flourishes, but still very accurate and deadly. And a delight to witness in action - he’s that mix of intentional showing-off and natural fluidity that makes for a great show every time. He’s always looked good with a sword in hand, and great with said sword cutting some poor bastard open. Any crew he works with eventually notices it, and even if his current one hasn’t found much else to like about him, they do appreciate him cutting off that one guy’s hand clean off with one strike. Ed didn’t know a rapier could do that.
Soon enough, the merchant crew is either killed or thrown overboard, and it’s safe for Stede to come in. He makes the rounds in the hold with Ed and Iz, sorting through what they find and estimating their worth. There’s not a whole lot of loot, as Ed has assumed - some lumber, a few guns, but there is one surprisingly valuable crate in the form of coffee and tea, which should cover the cost of fixing some of the lanterns that were broken in the fight. Assuming Stede can bring himself to sell them once the time comes.
They’re not hurrying - Stede likes digging through boxes and sorting things, Ed likes watching him get adorably excited about the stuff he finds, and Iz likes writing things down and doesn't mind acting as their accountant for now. His mood had improved by leaps and bounds after the honest admiration his skills got from the crew.
That high mood might be why none of them immediately notice the one final enemy.
You see, every now and then, there’s someone either foolish or brave - or foolishly brave - enough on board to try to fight back. Those types rarely fare well, being among the first to attack, and thus also to fall.
This one though - he’s a lucky bastard. He’s just cowardly enough to hide when the battle starts, but just courageous enough to test his chances afterwards. He’s managed to cram himself behind a stack of crates, in a crevice that’s small enough to get overlooked. Ed only notices him as he lifts his arm through the crack.
To point a gun at Stede.
Ed only has enough time to feel his blood run cold, even though he’s right next to Stede, staring right at the guy. He doesn’t even have time to think of moving, maybe pulling Stede out of the way, possibly push himself between the two, before Iz has already stabbed the man through the wrist.
The sword would be through his neck if it wasn’t in such an awkward spot.
Stede has gone pale as a sheet and can only stare in frozen terror as Iz pulls the man out of his sniping spot and slashes his throat. All of them are sprayed with hot blood.
It’s been a fair while since Ed has seen Iz covered in someone else’s blood - he’d forgotten what a good look it is on him. His nethers perk up as Iz tries to wipe his cheek clean, only managing to smear it worse. His wonderful little attack dog.
“You alright, captain?”
It isn’t directed at Ed.
Stede stammers, gaining back some color on his cheeks. Mostly green. Izzy scowls at him.
“Better get used to it. Not all of us are gentlemen”, he says pointedly, before sheathing his sword coolly. He takes a look at his blood soaked hands, then at the blood soaked notebook on the floor, huffs in annoyance, and walks off grumbling to himself. Ed wonders if he realizes his bandages are also soaked.
Stede shudders and stares at the corpse at his feet.
“Well, that was - exhilarating. Quite something.”
“Fuckin’ hot am I right?”
“Ah - well. I could’ve done without the blood. But it was quite gallant.” Stede goes pale again and makes a gagging noise. “I think I’ll go sit down for a while.”
Right, Stede can be delicate about blood. Although Ed’s sure he could get over it if he saw Iz looking like that a few times more.
Ah. Not that Ed wants that. He would prefer Stede and Iz stay on platonic terms. You know. Horniness just makes you think weird thoughts.
“Take all the time you need, love. But get on the Revenge, wouldn’t want any more nasty surprises.”
Lucius holds the bloodied notebook like it's made of snot.
"Starting to regret having this good of an education", he states, looking helplessly at Pete, who doesn't spontaneously become literate.
Ed just shrugs. His words won't change anything, so he says nothing. He leaves it to all of Lucius' boyfriends to comfort him, and goes instead to see how his own is doing.
Stede's looking much better now that he's gotten to wipe himself down and switched to clean clothes, but he's still a bit pale. His hair is straight and damp, he must’ve washed it even though it barely got any blood in it.
“You okay, love?” Ed asks, pressing a soft kiss to said hair.
“I think so. Did you run into any more trouble?”
“Nah. He was the only cockroach on board.”
Stede shudders. Either because of the near death experience or the cockroach, it’s not clear.
"Need help with your hair?"
"Oh, thank you! I should have the curler here - ah, yes, here you go."
He puts a scissors-looking contraption in Ed’s hand, and he looks at it dumbly. Why did he even ask? He knows nothing about doing hair! His own just does its thing naturally!
"You could try wearing it straight for a change. I think it'd look nice on you", Ed says, discreetly fiddling with the curler, trying to figure out how the hell it’s supposed to work. And it's not a total lie anyway, he really does like it when Stede looks a little rugged. He should consider growing a stubble again.
“Hmm. I suppose I could leave it like this for today. It’s already well into the afternoon.”
Hiding his sigh of relief Ed sets the curler down and instead grabs a comb and starts going through the strands, needlessly gently, needlessly slowly. He thinks back to Iz covered in blood. Imagines Stede in the same situation.
"Was the blood hard to get off?"
"Yes. You wouldn't think it dried that quickly." Stede shudders. "The coat is ruined. Don't think the shirt is salvageable, either."
"You could save the coat, might come in handy. Makes for a pretty intimidating figure."
"A gentleman doesn't wear clothes that are more stain than not", Stede protests.
Ed chuckles and leans down a little to press a kiss to Stede’s neck.
“Ed! I just got clean!” Stede giggles.
“Better make sure you don’t get dirty, then!”, Ed winks and lowers his hand to palm at Stede’s cock. He places more kisses on Stede’s neck, in all the places he likes. Stede needs little persuasion before he pulls Ed with him to the bed and draws Ed’s face up to smother him in hot kisses.
If there’s one thing Stede is good at, it’s kissing. He took to it with unbelievable speed, seemingly learning two new tricks in each one kiss, and he could leave Ed senseless in seconds.
He withdraws before he forgets they’re supposed to be quick and clean this time.
“Let me suck you”, he breathes, voice husky and needy, hand already digging at the fly of Stede’s breeches.
“Oh my”, Stede gasps, and his hands wander around, trying to find bare skin to hold onto. Ed dives in for one more kiss with so much tongue it makes him dizzy, and Stede’s fingers gripping his hair aren’t making things easier. Stede’s fly slips open, and Ed immediately snakes his hand inside, tugging the shirt out of his way, and finally he reaches his prize.
Stede’s moans are wonderful. Soft, sensual, insistent, as Ed fondles his cock, brushing his thumb across the head.
“Remember to come inside”, Ed whispers in Stede’s ear, tone leaning more to excited rather than the sly he had gone for, and Stede’s breath hitches and he whispers a soft fuck.
Stede has a very nice cock. A little bigger than Ed’s, evenly thick all around, light in color. The hair at the base is thick and blonde, and it never smells bad - how he manages that when everyone else on the ship stinks to high heaven remains a mystery that’s far less important than getting his mouth around Stede right this second. He’s gotten a lot of practice at this lately, and feels he’s gotten pretty good. Clearly Stede shares the sentiment, cock growing stiffer by the second, breathless moans escaping his mouth with each lick, fingers curling in Ed’s hair in wordless praise.
It all gets into Ed’s head, swaddling his thoughts in a cozy blanket, hazing his thoughts. For now, there’s little in the world but the Stede’s lovely voice, the faintly salty taste in Ed’s mouth, and the love shared between them.
Izzy never let him do this. He’d wanted to, sometimes, after a raid or brawl, but she always said it was a whore’s job, quickly and out of breath before getting back to sucking Ed’s cock to oblivion. Bit hypocritical of her.
The thought yanks him harshly back to the rest of the world. To his own heated, needy moans around Stede’s shaft, his own cock standing in rapt attention, his own heart thumping a painful, erratic beat against his chest.
Stede taps his shoulder in a hurried warning, and Ed buries himself deep as he physically can, runs his tongue along Stede’s cock as best he can with his mouth stuffed so full, and is rewarded with all he should want at this moment. The scent of Stede enveloping him, the touch of Stede all over his body, the voice of Stede surrounding him, but something is missing.
Stede draws him close, embraces him sweetly, kisses him hotly. “You’re so good to me, dear.”
Ed’s taken several missteps along the way, but he does his best. Stede makes him want to do his best. It’s turning them both into better people.
Ed caresses Stede’s cheek softly, love swelling in his whole being. “You’re very easy to be good to, love.”
Stede melts, smiles like he’s having a dream. His hand starts wandering downward, but Ed grabs his wrist before it makes contact with the throbbing, leaking member. Stede looks at him with slight confusion.
“Shouldn’t keep the crew waiting, or they’ll start fighting over who gets what.”
Stede makes a disappointed frown. “If you insist.” Ed grins and gives him a quick kiss. “But tonight I will fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”
It’s not often that Ed blushes. It’s even rarer than Stede use such language. “Keep talking like that and you’ll barely even need to touch me.”
The crew is gathered on the deck, chattering excitedly. It's less about the meager loot and more about the battle. It's lifted up everyone's moods, though apparently for Iz it was much more temporary since he's sitting by himself, looking considerably more sour than when they parted. Unlike Stede, Iz hasn't fully cleaned up. He's changed clothe and washed his face, but the dirty bandages are still there, and his hair is also clearly stiff with dried blood. He smells of it, too. Ed actually kinda likes it.
Frenchie holds up one of the coats they took off of the merchant crew, a dark blue, fairly fancy one. "Can I have this one? It'd go well with my Sunday breeches."
It wouldn't fetch much of a price. Someone had cut through an arm and left not only a giant rip, but also a bloodstain running down the whole front, so Stede gladly lets him keep it.
The rest of the clothes didn't fare much better, but they still have the weapons and assorted pots, pans and dishes to bargain with, and decent rations. Not a feast’s worth, but a small celebration at least.
“Closest port is île-A-Vache, right?” Stede ponders, and it’s proof that he’s been studying the charts.
“Yeah. Port Royal pays better, though. Only a few days further, too.”
“Supplies should last”, Stede thinks out loud. “Everyone in favor of making port at Port Royal?”
“Aye!” comes the answer from most mouths, the rest being indifferent, Iz among them. It seems he’s done with being part of anything for now , as he slinks off to his cabin in annoyed silence.
Stede leaves Ed to plan the course - preferably one that would give them a good chance to raid one more ship while en route to Port Royal. He takes up the task gladly, he’s always been at his best at planning. Gives him a good excuse to spend some with Iz, too. They haven’t talked much lately, both still being awkward in the other’s presence, but Ed still misses hanging out with him. It’s strange how Stede is suddenly the one who’s closer to Izzy.
He goes to Iz’s cabin, forgets to knock before entering, and sees Iz craning his neck in front of the mirror, searching for the end of his bandage, hands getting smudged with the crusty blood of his bandages. Ed’s surprised he hadn’t changed them earlier.
“Want some help with that?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Iz snaps defensively. Wow, who pissed in his coffee in the last hour? He looked pretty damn happy while playing hero for Stede. Getting a bit of blood on you shouldn’t be that big of a deal.
“Came to get your help in planning the route.”
Iz clicks his tongue and practically spits his answer at Ed’s feet. “Not my job anymore.”
“Huh?”
Izzy looks at him sternly. “You’re the one who made me a rigger. I don’t handle the navigation anymore.”
Oh. Right, of course, Ed did do that. He just got caught up in - something. He just forgot.
“You’re right, I’ll just ask... someone else.”
Izzy used to crave his attention, would kill for an hour of Ed’s company.
“I recommend the captain, he needs to learn eventually”, Izzy says scathingly, hands moving to press on his right shoulder. Maybe the cut is still putting a strain on him?
Ed could at least give him a shoulder rub, that should put him in a better mood. He always loved having Ed’s hands on him, his actions always made it clear even when his words claimed otherwise.
“Does it hurt? You want a shoulder rub?”
“Be best if you fucked off”, Izzy huffs, and it’s not in that I-actually-want-the-opposite way he used to always say it with.
Would... would he have said that if it was Stede? Who he was suddenly calling captain? Even if it wasn't quite the way he used to call Ed captain? Is he - how could he? How dare he?
Ed sees the ring on Izzy's ring finger. He belongs to someone else now.
How dare he!
“Okay, okay. Just trying to be nice”, Ed mutters and leaves.
He says nothing about the incident to Stede, but he still acts strangely enough for Stede to ask if he’s alright - Ed doesn’t lie, but neither does he tell what’s causing his clipped words and tense hands. Stede can tell who the reason is, surely, but he can’t know the details. He doesn’t push, because he’s an angel.
Ed is impossibly lucky they met. Stede is perfect in nearly every way. He’s the sunny days after a storm. He’s sincere and good. He’s the adventure Ed has been searching for all his life, the missing link between sophistication and brutality. He’s honest and loving in all the ways Ed never knew a man could be. He’s a bit unhinged and not always as smart as he should be, but he has faith in Ed and that’s enough to make him want to work things out. So he tries to talk about it - but he can’t force himself to actually talk about it, and even if Stede is a little disappointed and impatient for things to get better, he understands and keeps loving Ed. Things are alright.
Despite wanting to, Ed doesn’t see much of Iz the next day - he’s got his hands full with the wind picking up, even with Fang helping him out where he can, and he has to spend a lot of time high up in the rigging, adjusting knots and whatnot. From what little glimpses Ed can catch, he seems fairly calm, so whatever made him throw that hissy fit after the raid must’ve been dealt with.
Being only about half a day away from Port Royal and not having run into a vessel they could overtake, a restless energy takes over the idle crew, and with little else to do, Jim suddenly gains an interest in Izzy’s work. They’re idly tossing a knife into the air and catching it, over and over, eyes on Izzy, who doesn’t seem to have noticed until he yells down at them.
“Jimenez, pass me a knife!” Izzy calls from up in the rigging. Jim does as asked - by throwing it hard enough to embed the blade in the mast, by Izzy’s midsection. That’s some serious skill.
It’s hard to see from down here what he does with it, but it takes a bit, and Jim gets frustrated with the lack of good manners.
“Would it kill you to say thanks!” they complain. Izzy hesitates for a few seconds before yelling a simple thanks. Jim seems happy enough with that, and after a few minutes Izzy throws the knife back down, blade first to the deck - usually, Ed would make him patch that nick, but supposes he could do it instead this once. It’s understandable Iz wouldn’t feel like climbing all the way down just to hand back one item.
Jim stays and watches for a minute, and then asks.
“Is that the mizzenmast!”
“Yeah!”
“So that’s the mizzensail!”
“Yeah!”
“But the topsail is not at the top!”
“The top ones are royals!”
“That’s fucking stupid!”
“I know!” Izzy laughs. He holds a lot of grudge towards royalty. Nobility in general, but especially royalty.
Jim watches for a while longer, then climbs up to join Izzy. He looks at them with surprise, and says something that’s lost to the wind, along with Jim’s reply. He then starts showing Jim what he’s doing, pointing out sails and teaching different knots. He’s usually a shitty teacher, he hates it when you don’t already know whatever it is you’re only just learning and starts cursing and screaming at you, but it seems he’s trying harder this time to not drive away his first apprentice.
Well, he was a shitty teacher in any case. The rare few cases Missy Izzy could be convinced to teach something had gone much better.
Or maybe it was just the subject matter.
Let’s not go down that path, brain.
Stede watches the pair fondly.
“You know, I’m starting to think he’s not a lost cause”, Stede chuckles. “He just needs some tenderness and he’ll be eating out of our hands.”
The day Izzy doesn’t bite Stede’s hand is the day he stops calling himself Izzy, Ed used to think - now he’s dangerously close to agreeing. But the way to Izzy’s heart includes little niceness and a lot of domination.
“It doesn’t work like that with Izzy”, he tries to explain. It’s nice of Stede to try and be kind, but he just doesn’t know Izzy the way Ed does. ”He doesn’t get gentleness, he’s an attack dog. He needs a leash. Wants a leash.” Is probably incapable of functioning without a leash.
“Nonsense, everyone could do with some kindness”, Stede insists, obliviously kind-hearted. It’s what Ed loves about him, along with the cleverness and creativity. It’s just that the kindness is wasted on Izzy. Trust him on this, Ed’s tried.
“Perhaps he’s only an attack dog because no one tried to make him a lap dog”, Stede argues proudly. “Don’t tell him I said that, he’d hit me”, he adds, much less proudly.
Actually he’s wrong on that point - Bellamy(may he not rest in peace once his time comes) had tried his best to keep Izzy’s claws in check, and who had Izzy run to in the end? Ed smirks confidently.
“Go ahead then. Give it a try, you’ll see I’m right.”
“Perhaps I will! He deserves nice things, you know. Maybe I’ll invite him to dinner some day. Tomorrow, in fact! I’ll have Roach make a meat pie. And something with apples, Izzy likes them.”
Ed might act high and mighty, but if he’s being completely honest, the situation worries him more than a little. Izzy warmed up to Stede while they played patient and nurse, and even more during this last few weeks. The uneasy, tentative affection between them is making Ed feel worryingly close to jealous. He knows it isn’t like that, because Izzy isn’t drawn to men like Stede - soft and fancy. He knows Izzy isn’t interested like that... And - and surely Stede isn’t interested either, it’s just sympathy for his patient, it will wear out once Izzy is himself again, and starts insulting everyone and trying to boss people around and cursing worse than a sailor. Because usual Izzy isn’t at all Stede’s type. And usual Izzy isn’t someone you forget, even if he’s acting like a puppy for now.
It can’t be like that.
Ed only agrees to Stede’s plan because he’s desperate to prove himself wrong. After dinner, once they’ve set anchor, they go to Izzy’s cabin.
Unlike Ed, Stede always remember to knock. Izzy answers the door in a state of slight dishevel, and it’s unfairly fetching on him. He’s so rarely seen without his hair set and waistcoat buttoned up that seeing him ready for bed feels like being let in on a dirty secret.
His hair has gotten a bit long. And it’s freshly cleaned. Guess he was celebrating Jim’s interest in the rigging. Even his once-white-now-grey and worn out linen shirt is clean. This one isn’t Lucius’, by the way, it’s one he’s had for years.
Ed knows this because it’s Ed’s hand-me-downs.
And Izzy wearing Ed’s clothes is often a sign of Missy Izzy’s presence.
It only adds to the fetchiness.
“Izzy, could I have a moment of your time?”
“Make it quick”, Izzy mutters, and Ed can no longer tell if he’s really annoyed or just acting his self-appointed part of disgruntled asshole.
“I would like to extend an invitation to dinner tomorrow in the great cabin - if you’d be so inclined -”
“Jesus, I said make it quick”, Izzy quips with a roll of his eyes. So, not actually annoyed.
“Get your ass to our cabin tomorrow at dinner”, Ed grins. Iz answers with a grin of his own - Ed is surprised, though not startled unlike after that princess jab. Iz really does seem to be evolving into his past self. He used to grin and smile a lot more often when they’d been young, even when he wasn’t a woman. Missy Izzy had always been more easy-going, yeah, but a joke from just Izzy hadn’t been all that rare, either. Until the mutiny. Before life choked the joy out of Izzy. Before Blackbeard.
Fucking hell, they really screwed each other over with that decision, didn’t they.
“See how it’s done?” Izzy says to Stede, who takes it as a good-natured jab. It was probably only half good-natured. “But I’m busy with other stuff. Just eat by yourselves.”
Yeah, Ed’s pretty sure this is Missy Izzy. Regular Izzy wouldn’t be this polite to Stede. It’s been a real long time since her last appearance, she used to be around a lot when they were young, but Ed doesn’t remember seeing her even once in the last 7 years, at least. It’s pretty much only been First Mate Hands.
“Oh.” Stede sounds so disappointed, but tries again, hopeful. “The day after, perhaps? Or lunch?”
At this, Izzy digs her heels in, grin replaced by familiar scowling. She loses the almost playful tilt of her head in favor of standing up defiantly. Ed doesn’t want to admit that he’s a little relieved by this. He’s proved his point about Izzy being an attack dog.
“I’m busy. Eat by yourselves.”
“Surely we can find a date that works for you?”
“I’ve made a truce with you, Bonnet. We’re not friends.”
The relief Ed had felt is now dwarfed in comparison to how the plain sting on Stede’s face twists his insides.
“Oh.”
Ed wants to wipe that scowl off Izzy’s face with his fist. She doesn’t get to hurt Stede, not after what she’s put them both through. She doesn’t get to play the victim. She will yield.
“Iz. Dinner. Tomorrow. You don’t want to find out what happens if you’re not there.”
Stede looks at him with slight exasperation -it’s a relief he doesn’t understand how serious Ed is. Izzy just mopes.
Only seconds after saying it, Ed might throw up over how good it felt to threaten Izzy again. Stede and Ed aren’t the only ones who have suffered, and at least they’re close to getting their happily ever after. What does Izzy have? No real goals or friends, only a former lover who doesn’t know how to let her go but won’t take her back either.
Ed needs to start doing something about that.
They reach Port Royal a mid-morning the next day. As predicted, Stede has a hard time parting with the tea and coffee, so after Iz’s (very meanly worded) suggestion they compromise by keeping about two weeks’ rations of both and sell the rest. Stede laments the fact that the guy seemed like the type that doesn’t know how to appreciate a good arabica and would boil green tea.
Iz would make a sarcastic remark on it, but she went off on her own after her idea was accepted. It might be a good thing - Iz has always been shit a t relaxing, constantly finding something to either do or micromanage, but will usually use shore leave to visit a tavern though it’s rare for her to get drunk. Even rarer for him, interestingly enough.
Roach mopes a bit about having to cut his leave short, but Stede promises to pay him well for “overtime” - Ed makes a mental note to ask what that means later. Turns out Roach is a pretty good haggler and walks away with a share Ed feels is a lot more than fair. But it’s Stede’s ship and Stede’s cook, so it’s not his place to butt in.
They do a bit of shopping, then head back to the ship to get ready - hours earlier than needed. Stede explains that he’s just nervous and wants to make a good impression. Ed says that Izzy would really be more impressed by a messy and dirty cabin, but doesn’t mention it would be a bad sort of impressed. It doesn’t work anyway, Stede is set on making things as clean and pretty as humanly possible.
Once the knock comes, Stede gives one final smoothing to his immaculate clothes and hair. He opens the door to a pouting Izzy, who at least has the decency to have put on clean clothes - that particular linen shirt isn't Ed's, even though by all logic that one should still be clean. So she might have gone back to being just Izzy, then. This one is probably Lucius', Ed thinks he's seen the scribe wearing it before. They should do laundry soon, Ed is also starting to run out of clean clothes.
“Right, let’s get this over with”, Izzy grumbles.
Stede doesn’t let the grumpiness get him down, thankfully. “Lovely of you to join us! I thought we might start with some aperitifs, would you care for some vermouth?”
“Iz doesn’t really drink”, Ed informs him before Izzy can make a more scathing remark. He can’t remember the last time Izzy was properly drunk - at most he’ll allow himself to get tipsy - but it must’ve been before the Pants Incident, maybe even before Gideon died. So it’s been a long time, but Ed still remembers how he acts when he’s had a bit too much - gets soft and sleepy, more easy with his affections. Girly, as Izzy calls it, with contempt.
So Ed doesn’t remember the last time Izzy got properly drunk, but he does remember the last time Izzy asked for her hand to be held, and he remembers even better how in the morning she went from Missy Izzy back to First Mate Hands, and vehemently denied ever having liked getting his hair stroked and saying the words I love you.
Ed wonders if he still feels the same. Sturdy, but pliant under the right touches. If he would still make the same noises. If Stede has imagined -
Ed can’t possibly be drunk already, he only had a bit of rum in town.
“Oh? Not even wine? That’s a shame. I have a bottle of Tokay from an excellent year”, Stede mourns.
“Even I’m gonna need some liquid courage to get through this”, Izzy mutters as Stede guides him to the table, and for a second Ed wants Stede to put his hand on the small of Izzy’s back.
Someone must’ve been spiking the food at that shitty pub.
Izzy sits down heavily at the seat he used when Ed came to convince him to eat, and talk some things through.
Ed doesn’t know if it’s significant. It’s the seat next to Stede, closest to the door, furthest from Ed. Stede pours them all a tiny glass of the vermouth, dry and spicy. Izzy looks at it with disdain, and downs it one go. Then makes a face.
“Stronger than you thought, right?” Ed laughs, and sips his daintily, brushing aside the memory of their first drunken kiss. “Want me to top your glass?”
“Please - as the host, let me”, Stede intervenes.
Izzy downs this glass just as fast the first one.
“You’re supposed to savor it”, Stede pouts.
“I’ll savor it once I’m drunk enough to tolerate this farce”, Izzy shoots back and motions for another glass. Stede lets out a long-suffering sigh and does as requested.
Izzy lets the third pour in peace, Ed notices, and is sure Stede doesn’t miss it either. Izzy's awkwardness about being nice would be cute if it wasn't so goddamn annoying.
“So. Here I am”, Izzy grumbles, purposely antagonistic. Ed gives him a warning look, which Izzy ignores with glee. “What’s for dinner.”
This is Stede in his element.
“For appetizers we have boiled corn and onion bread rolls - I was hoping for garlic, but alas, the store has run dry. Our main course is Cheshire pork pie, with a side of pickled cucumbers, for wine we have a red Bordeaux, but you may of course opt for water if you’d prefer. And finally, for dessert, Roach has prepared apple tarts - they might be on the simple side, but I assure you they’re quite delicious.”
Ed has been watching Izzy’s face with amusement - at first it’s just annoyed, then as the list goes on it grows first into disbelief, then amazement, and finally outrage.
“Fucking hell, you eat like this every day?”
“No, no! Well, not anymore. This is a special occasion.”
Ed is surprised that Izzy doesn’t push the issue, since he hates excess and luxury. Instead, he takes a sip of his aperitif, savors it discreetly to buy himself some time, but it’s not enough and he can’t think of what to say.
Ed saves his hide and pride. “How’s work gone so far?”
“We should redo the rigging completely”, Izzy responds flatly, in his element again - complaining. “It’s not an efficient arrangement. We should make port and overhaul the whole thing.Find a sailmaker.”
“Is it in that bad of a condition?” Stede asks, worried.
“Nah, but a sailmaker’s always good to have onboard”, Ed says.
Izzy suggests a port, and Stede promises to consider it. Then he tries some light conversation, but it doesn’t work out the way he hoped - Izzy is either thorny or tight-lipped. So they switch back to more professional matters, and even if Stede is a little disappointed, he’s also happy that Izzy is taking part without being properly drunk. Just tipsy enough that he doesn’t feel the need to be an asshole, and Stede is always happy to learn something new. They end up talking mostly about ship maintenance, for a good few hours. It lets Ed drown himself in a few more pleasant memories as he lingers on the outskirts of the conversation, offering only a few words here and there, between longing looks at Stede's hands and Izzy's face. It's gotten a lot older since they first met. It's comforting. Knowing it's still here, after all they've been through together. Hornigold, the Kraken, Stede. It won't run away from him.
The drinks undoubtedly help Iz to forget keep track of time, or he would’ve left right after finishing his food. He also forgets to act like he’s been forced here as a prisoner. It’s rare to see him wound down like this, which might be the reason he drinks so rarely in the first place - doesn’t like having his guard down and his image ruined. He’s not a happy drunk, per se, unless he starts in a good mood. But he does always get a little absentminded no matter his starting point.
“We should do this again soon”, Stede suggests happily as he nurses his second cup of tea - the very one he hadn’t had the heart to sell. Aforementioned absentmindedness must be the reason Iz replies with a simple sure instead of a complaint, and the cup of quality coffee from the same haul as the tea can only help matters. Ed sees the surprise on Stede’s face and lifts a finger to his lips - better shush him before he says something to make Iz notice his lapsus.
“But we need supplies”, Iz continues thoughtfully. “We should be running low on flour and potatoes.”
“Roach told you?”
"Lucius. He - spends a lot of time in the stores."
“I wonder how Roach keeps track of everything, since he can’t read", Stede muses out loud, completely missing the fact that his scribe's favorite noodling spot is right next to everyone's food.
“He can count and he has experience”, Iz explains, not very thoroughly.
“He should count more sugar, we’re constantly running out”, Ed butts in, trusting Iz to latch onto that.
“You know it’s because you put seven damn lumps in each cup! It’s undrinkable at that point you damn sugar mite!”
“It’s not the right amount of sweet otherwise!”
“Just eat it straight! That’s what you’re basically doing anyway!”
“So I like sweet things. That a crime now?”
“Unmanly is what it is”, Iz whines, in a not very manly fashion.
“Being unmanly is fun every now and then. As you know.”
“I guess”, Iz amends, and grins faintly. Then suddenly he remembers Stede isn’t supposed to know about that, and he jumps up, pointing an accusing finger at Ed. “The fuck I’d know! Whatever he’s been saying about me, it’s not true!” he tries to convince Stede, who has no idea what either of them is talking about.
“I promise Ed has only said good things about you”, Stede tries to calm him, and it’s a lie. Ed has complained about Iz plenty.
“Well of course it was good for him!”
“You seemed to like it plenty”, Ed teases before he gets hold of his drunken brain. He didn’t mean to ruin the mood, he didn’t want to make Iz feel bad, he doesn’t want Iz running off and cutting their night short when they were getting along so well. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“Yeah, it was!” Iz yells angrily, but there’s an edge of panic in there.
“I haven’t told him. Haven’t told anyone”, Ed promises. He really hasn’t. Not just for safety, but also because Iz always seemed ashamed of Missy Izzy.
“You really haven’t?”
“I haven’t.”
Iz deflates with relief and sits back down. Everyone is silent for a while, mood gone to shit, and Ed is mentally kicking himself in the head.
“Well, it’s nearing bedtime”, Stede finally says awkwardly. “I could read us all a story - well, less read and more telling from memory. Seeing as how all my books of fairytales were thrown out.”
Iz barks a laugh at that, and the coffee nearly sloshes out from his cup. Ed makes an apologetic face, even though Stede has already forgiven him for throwing out all his stuff.
“You ninnies have fun crying over children’s stories, I’m going to bed.”
And Iz gets on his wobbly feet. Ed wants to offer his help, but with their new strained relationship Iz isn’t likely to accept - and Ed’s in a volatile enough state of mind to not know how he would react if Iz rejected him.
“We’ll get you to attend one of these days”, he boasts instead. Izzy rolls his eyes and gets going.
"This was a lovely evening, we should do it again soon!" Stede calls after him, and Iz flips him the bird. But doesn't say no.
Late the next morning Stede goes to ask Izzy to join them on shore, walk around a bit and see the sights - which there are few and none worth seeing, really - but it seems he's already gone off on his own. They later run into Frenchie and Wee John, who say they saw Izzy going somewhere with Jim and Oluwande, and when they return to the ship in the evening they see him mending a sail with Lucius - or rather, Izzy mends while Lucius sits next to him just chatting. It's nothing out of the ordinary since Lucius is well-known to do as little physical work as possible, and Izzy has come to begrudgingly accept that. Stede shoots them a jealous look, but Ed pulls him away before either notices them. Nice as last night was, it’s only made Ed more scared of them growing closer.
They had planned to leave that day anyway, but an approaching navy vessel forces them to gather everyone up from around town and run off early. Jim, Oluwande and Fang hurry to help Izzy with the sails, Buttons takes over the helm, and they manage to flee pretty much just in the nick of time. The lone navy ship tries to give chase, but is much slower than the Revenge, which makes Ed suspect there's something off with it - a brig that size should be making ten knots in this wind, but it seems like they're making barely half of that. Ed isn't about to curse his good luck, but it does make him uneasy. Like it's some kind of plot. But since the ship doesn't reappear in the next few days, he breathes a sigh of relief. Must've just been a coincidence or something. It's back to smooth sailing.
Well, mostly anyway. There's a wrinkle in the form of Stede taking up following after Izzy again, spying on his knotwork, trying to replicate the hand movements. Izzy feigns ignorance for a while, but eventually snaps and starts instructing him angrily. Ed can’t hear them over the wind and waves, but can imagine the words - you fucking twat, like this! Fucking useless idiot, don’t you know anything?!, and so on. To Stede’s credit, while he’s startled and nervous, he stands his ground and reminds Izzy of the no-yelling rule instead of cowering. This pisses Izzy off even worse, but he really does shut up. Doesn’t even get physical! Oh, his face is red and scrunched up snarly, for sure, but he doesn’t start a fight. He does march off with great rage, naturally, but it’s nice to see he respects the rule enough to keep himself in check when reminded.
Stede looks at the rope with guilt, and tries to finish Izzy’s work for him. It’s a pretty sad sight, so Ed eventually takes pity on him and goes to take over.The next day, Stede stops pretending he isn’t blatantly watching, and goes right up to Izzy and pays very close attention. Ed subtly creeps closer to keep an eye on them. As expected, Izzy starts huffing and puffing, though he’s surprisingly slow to start with the yelling. Even more surprisingly, Stede actually learns something, and - this nearly makes Ed fall over in shock - Izzy gives him a reluctant "Not as shitty as all the other times" and Stede beams with pride, until Izzy follows up with "You know what that knot's called? What it's used for?" and then with an "Of fucking course you don't, you twat" when Stede makes a helpless noise in lieu of answering.
Ed is just about to intervene when Izzy goes into actual teaching mode. “It's the buntline hitch. Good for securing sails, shaking makes it tighten. Try again."
It hits Ed over the head like a bag of bricks.
Don’t get him wrong, of course he’s happy that Izzy’s finally stopped hating Stede for no reason and that they both get to be happy, that they’re getting along because trying to act mediator between them had been incredibly tiring, but it’s just so stomach-twisting seeing the two of them acting so friendly. Guess even Izzy has to go soft for someone who nursed him back to health, be it even his sworn, one-sided nemesis. The experience has mellowed him out a lot - he curses less these days, and is less high-strung about maintaining the ship, less stressed in general. He feels closer to his 30-year-old self. The one that was efficient without being a hard-ass, who smiled every now and then, and looked at Ed with warmth and only a touch of reverence. It resembles the Izzy that Ed had loved, so long ago, before being a living legend wore them both out. He feels a small something in his chest whenever he sees Izzy up in the rigging, or securing the ropes, or just sitting with the crew.
That something is worryingly similar to the possessive sting that led to him steal Izzy from Bellamy, decades ago. And it’s scarily close to the surge of affection he feels whenever Stede touches him. Of course it’s a lot weaker than either those feelings, and of course he isn’t actually falling back in love with Izzy, and of course there’s no danger of Ed abandoning Stede, but - it’s nostalgic, and Ed can still remember what it was like, loving Izzy. Having someone who’s lived the same shitty circumstances, who can understand what it takes to thrive outside the law, and can damn near read your mind. How intoxicating it felt to have someone like that at his mercy. How flattering it was to hear someone drink in every word he said. Invigorating, in a very different way from the comfortable partnership with Stede feels. Covetous.
Those memories must be why he feels uneasy seeing others act so familiar with Izzy. He used to be no one’s but Eds, would rarely chat with anyone else, and would never let anyone else touch him. Now he sees him talking with them all the time, sees Lucius give him pats on the back and Fang try to give him hugs(he’s had no success as of yet). And worse, Izzy is responding to this new-found camaraderie. He’s stopped griping about anything and everything, does his best to stay neutral even when his face betrays his anger, catches himself before he tries to boss anyone around, and has even started sleeping on the deck with the rest of the crew who don’t have cabins. He used to hate that.
But the worst is that Stede is being so kind in return, and so patient, and Izzy likes it. He’s almost stopped calling Stede names, says a kind word every now and then, doesn’t squirm away when Stede puts a hand on his shoulder, or brushes his arm, looks at him without sneering. It’s almost like he’s moved on from Ed to -
No, actually the worst is how Stede is responding to this new, muted Izzy, that he puts a hand on Izzy’s shoulder, and brushes his arm, and smiles at him warmly and quietly, and looks at him with fondness that the Izzy from a month ago could never have incited.
Since their last call of port had been cut short, they vote to make another landfall after a few days. Izzy wants to get some repairs done and to find a sailmaker, Roach needs chicken feed, and Buttons says something about a dangerous phase of the moon. Ed can't tell if he says it in favor or in opposition of making port. Olivia squawks supportively, and no one comments further.
"Could try Santiago de Cuba, but it's not a pirate port. Tortuga might be safer", Ed muses out loud. "Could make it in two days if the wind holds, and it should."
"Everyone in favor of making port at Tortuga, raise your hand?" Stede asks, and everyone raises a hand. Guess the moon was making the sea dangerous, then. "Unanimous vote! How lovely! Ed, dear, would you mind planning the course?"
"Sure. Iz, wanna come with?"
“No.” It’s blunt, and it’s only then that Ed remembers once again - “It’s not my job anymore.”
“Of course, sorry”, he apologizes instantly. But he's mostly sorry about missing a chance to spend time with Iz. He's been giving Ed the cold shoulder since the dinner. “Let me know if you need help with the rigging.”
“Jimenez is competent enough, we’ll manage two days.” And with that he walks off, not even a glance to Ed’s direction, Bellamy’s ring on his finger.
Izzy never used to say no to him. These new boundaries are throwing him off balance. On one hand, it’s a good thing Izzy’s learning his limits, and letting go of his obsession with Ed. And Izzy has every right int he world to be his own person. He should be his own person. Ed should encourage this new direction, help Iz move on and find contentment in his new role and relationships.
But he wants to claim Izzy all to himself again, make him look only at him again, want to only please him again, make him stop carrying Bellamy’s ring on his hand, make him stop avoiding Ed, wants to show anyone who dares touch Izzy what happens to those who lay their hands on Blackbeard’s property.
And then - then he remembers Stede and feels such horror at these thoughts that he nearly throws himself at the feet of whoever’s nearest and begs for punishment. He loves Stede, wants to spend the rest of his life with him, wants to never hurt him or betray him - it - it must just be because Izzy has never been cold to him before so it's new and strange and fascinating. It'll pass.
It has to pass.
Ed tries to push it out of his mind, and he does have some success, largely because the more he stresses about it the more his knee starts aching and the pain leaves little room for other thoughts. Like it's trying to be helpful in it's own, torturous way. By now it's the middle of the night, and his whole leg might as well be on fire, and he's this close to hacking the goddamn thing off. Resting it doesn't help, stretching it doesn't help, and Stede's massaging technique isn't confident enough - his touch is too light, worried about hurting Ed further, and also doesn’t have the experience to know what parts like what motions. Stede is so gentle, when he isn't burning down asshole rich idiots. Gentleness is such a rare treat in this type of life, and Stede wields it so freely - sometimes it still catches Ed off guard how open he can be about everything. How clueless and soft he is. How absolutely lovely he is.
Ed wouldn't have the heart to wake him even if he did have the perfect massage technique. Izzy, on the other hand, is on watch. Even if he now refuses to take part in choosing routes or any other professional matters - as he has every right to, Ed reminds himself - hopefully he won't mind doing a personal favor for his frie - possible friend. Ed isn't too sure what they are, anymore. Can only hope Stede hasn't usurped Ed's spot in Izzy's mind.
So he heads out to the deck, thankful that he moon is only a crescent so Buttons isn't up for moonbathing, and for the slight drizzle that means all the crew has opted to sleep under deck. Izzy usually likes to hang out on forecastle, and this time is no exception - the unusual part is that he isn’t alone. In the faint moon light Ed can see Lucius leaning on the helm, Izzy somewhere behind him. Ed still isn’t too comfortable around the scribe, meeting the victim of your attempted murder is awkward enough in the best circumstances, the victim being undeserving makes it even worse, and when you break down crying before your undeserving attempted murder victim who has been hiding in your fist mate’s cabin for weeks, well - that’s really something else. Ed hadn’t been in a sound state of mind at the time, and of course he’d apologized, and it should be clear he regrets doing it, and he’s trying hard to make amends, but Lucius is still so cold. It doesn’t look like he’s planning to forgive and forget any time soon. Same with Black Pete, although he isn’t making it as obvious. Ed tries not to show that he’s avoiding Lucius, but everyone must already knew. The ship isn't that big.
So Ed sits down and leans against the wall instead of getting up on the forecastle, trying his best to rub his knee, waiting for Lucius to move on so Izzy can work on it properly. He can’t quite make out what’s being said, but it sounds pretty heated. Not all that surprising when it comes to Izzy, but very surprising with Lucius. The man is timid at the best of times, and even when he got angry he’d just get sarcastic instead of aggressive. While he snipes a lot, Ed’s never heard him yell at anyone. Is it more shocking that he’s yelling at Izzy, or less? After all, they had shared that tiny cabin for weeks, must’ve gotten along pretty well since they’re both still alive - is he comfortable enough with Izzy to yell, or just angry enough? They had become something approximating friends while Stede was away. Izzy has stopped threatening and demeaning Lucius almost completely, and Ed sometimes catches them talking alone calmly. They have their arguments, naturally, since Izzy is Izzy and Lucius has a lot more backbone than you’d think, but it always resolves pretty quickly and amicably. These days they’re practically bosom buddies. Weird how Izzy seems to get along best with the people who put up with his bullshit the least.
But this time the talk just keeps going and getting more and more heated. Ed’s knee isn’t letting up, either, and he’s starting to consider just interrupting them both for the sake of his knee and their friendship, when Izzy’s voice finally rises higher and louder, and the first audible words of the argument are “You lower your fucking voice! I’ve had enough of your-”
Classic Izzy.
He’s interrupted by Lucius’ much cooler and quieter voice, and Ed finds himself straining to hear the rest. His interest has been piqued. What a fun word, piqued. Stede taught him that last week.
“It’s how things are -” Izzy is saying.
“They don’t have to be.”
“Fuck off, not our business how-”
“Tell me, Izzy, are you happy? With how things are?”
There’s a short silence, a first when it comes to arguments with Izzy. The man is simply incapable of shutting himself up even when it’s clear he has no arguments other than shut up or fuck off. It worries Ed - maybe he hasn’t recovered from his suicide attempt as well as everyone thought. Maybe the root cause hasn’t really been dealt with, maybe they haven’t talked about it enough, maybe Ed just got swept up in the new dynamic between Izzy and the crew and didn’t realize not everyone is as happy about it?
Ed should probably go help him. Show support and take criticism. Lucius has a scathing tongue when pushed, Izzy doesn’t need that when he’s proven more sensitive than he acts. He might take things the wrong way and do something drastic.
Ed steps into view just as Izzy starts saying “Doesn’t matter whether I’m-”, then is startled by Ed’s sudden appearance and shuts up quicker than a rock falls. Ed curses at himself, because it sounded like Izzy was about to say something really fucking important.
“Don’t mind me, just our for a stroll. The knee, you know”, he says feebly.
Izzy stares at him petrified, while Lucius has a much more calculating look on his face. Ed doesn’t like that look. It has a plan.
Lucius turns his back to Ed, facing Izzy, so he can’t see the expression, but his voice is calm as he says in an even tone: “Clearly what you’re doing now isn’t working. High time to try something new.” Another calculating glance at Ed, who has been rooted in place, then a smirk. “You know where to find me.” And then he leans into Izzy again, and whispers something into his ear that makes Izzy bloom crimson all the way to his neck where the weathered gauze suddenly hides it, and scream expletives at Lucius until he’s disappeared under deck.
“Wow. What was that all about?” Ed asks, trying for amused, but the heavy knot in his stomach doesn’t make it easy. Izzy is a complicated and contradictory guy - often, the more he curses and acts like he hates something, the more he actually likes it. In the old days, the more aroused he was, the more he would deny it, and they rarely got to bed without a physical fight. A severe case of the lady protesting too much.
The thought floats in Ed’s head in circles. The butterflies in his stomach are flapping up a storm, and it’s more than the uneasiness of being around Lucius, more than the fear of Izzy hiding things from him again. It’s something closer to when Bellamy -
No, it can’t be that. He stopped feeling that way about Izzy a long time ago. And Ed has Stede now. It's nothing like that!
“He’s being a fucking asshole is what that was all about!” Izzy huffs, but it’s more embarrassed than angry, and the feeling doesn’t like that, even though it has no business butting into Izzy’s personal life anymore.
Izzy takes a deep breath through his nose. Hides his face in his hands, makes a shuddering sigh. After a moment his hands wander down to his neck, and he’s still blushing. Something Ed hasn’t seen in at least fifteen years, and his stomach turns.
“Thought you were friends these days.”
“He’s become insufferable since he sketched me”, Izzy grumbles, shaking his head, looking to the side, his lips in a tense line, and Ed freezes.
Izzy let himself be sketched by Lucius? He’s let himself be - just how fucking close have they become since - Izzy has posed for Lucius, for a sketch, have they -
Ever since Izzy came back to life, Ed had been worried that he was developing feelings for Stede. But the whole time he’d been mistaken? Missed the threat hanging out in the periphery, forgotten the most obvious candidate right beside Izzy, who already has half the crew wrapped around his finger, whose shirts Izzy’s been wearing for weeks? What is he going to do with Izzy? What is the point of him getting just one more bedmate, having someone who used to hate him, taking someone else’s lover -
Wait, was this how Izzy felt when Stede entered the picture? Did he feel the same all-encompassing rage and desire to strangle the fucking asshole who waltzed in to steal his man? It had been a decade since Ed could rightly call Izzy his lover, and yet it felt completely natural in his head? And the thought of losing him to someone else filled him with such jealousy his chest felt like it would implode.
Izzy’s actions suddenly make so much more sense. Ed is already happy with someone new, and yet he’s ready to go stab the scribe and have him keelhauled until he “accidentally” dies.
And he’s even more furious at Izzy. Who is he to follow someone else around like a puppy, wagging his tail at a new man, barking on someone else’s command without Ed’s permission? He’s Ed’s dog, his to do with as he pleases or doesn’t, his to either keep or put down.
“You want to fuck him, Iz?” Ed asks, tone too dangerous, too possessive. He hears Izzy's breathing quicken, sees his pupils dilating, his body shivering.
“What kind of question-”
“What did he whisper to you, before he left?” Ed demands as his hand approaches Izzy's throat, searching for its familiar place. Not to hurt, just to remind them both of their roles. And when Izzy hesitates, the hand wraps around, squeezes a little. Feels like it's back home.
“What did he say?”
“He said I’ll let you call me daddy”, Izzy whimpers.
So that’s how it is. Izzy’s looking for a new master, because his old one has thrown him out. Ed only has himself to blame. Because he never owned Izzy but kept acting like he did, stole him from the one man who would have kept him for all his life, and then didn’t let him go once he’d had his fun. And now they’re stuck in this co-dependent mess where they aren’t friends or lovers or anything because Ed has found a new lover but won’t let Izzy do the same, isn’t ready for Izzy to move on, isn’t ready to face the fact that Izzy isn’t happy with him anymore.
He has no business butting into Izzy's personal life. Hasn't had the right in years, and yet it felt so right at the moment. Was it only because Izzy is as good as property in his mind? And once he owns something it's his forever? No matter how anyone else feels, least of all the property itself?
He pries his hand off Izzy’s throat, disgusted with himself. When did he stop seeing Izzy as a real human, with human emotions? He knows he used to, back when they were both happy, when they were young, back on The Ranger. When did Iz turn into a discarded toy he only wants back when someone else wants to play with it?
“Iz.”
“Yes, captain?” and the words stab him right in the heart. Here he is, proving how he doesn’t deserve Izzy’s reverence, and yet that’s exactly what he’s getting. By strangling him for having an interest in someone new a fucking decade after Ed abandoned him.
“You can go to him, if you want. I don’t - I don’t own you, you know. I just got jealous, you were mine for so long -”
“You’re jealous?” Izzy interrupts, amazed, and Ed realizes he’s only dug himself deeper, so he leans into his new persona who wants to apologize for things, which Izzy hates. He needs to push Izzy away.
“Yeah, I know it’s shitty of me, the way I kept sleeping around after we got together and when we haven’t been like that for a long time but I can’t help it. If - if I’m stealing you from him, like I stole you from Bellamy -”
“I chose to be yours”, Izzy interrupts again, firmly this time, and his eyes still full of admiration, showing how badly Ed has fucked up with him, again. It’s like every word and action he takes with Izzy is the wrong one. He’s so fucking shit at handling Izzy, and Izzy is also shit at reading Ed, how are they ever supposed to make things right? “I kept belonging to you because I wanted to. I still belong to you. No one else has touched me", Izzy pleads, falling just short of groveling at Ed's feet. Maybe his statement still holds true, but clearly he’s dipping his toes into being touched by Lucius . "Having other people is your prerogative, I was happy as long as I got to be your wife.”
“Which means you’ve been unhappy for a long time, Iz”, Ed says, and Izzy seems surprised by that, somehow. Because he hadn’t realized it himself? Because he didn’t think Ed would comment on it? Because he thought Ed wouldn’t care? “Let me make things right”, Ed begs. “Iz. I want you to be happy again, and - I’m not the one who can do that anymore.”
“Don’t send me away.”
“I wont. But you need to find a new reason to live. We both need to become new people.”
“We’re too fucking old for that.”
“We’re not.” Ed says this with conviction, as a pure fact, because he knows it’s true. Ed began his own transformation when he met Stede, and has kept it going knowingly, purposefully. And Iz is teetering on the edge of his own transformation, though he’s much less aware of it. “We will change”, Ed continues, and he feels the fire in his eyes, and Iz sees the flames. He has that look of speechless adoration Ed used to love on him. “And it will be for good.”
For now, Iz will have no doubts. For now, he will believe any word that comes out of Ed’s mouth. As Ed walks away, he knows Iz will be watching him, and he also knows the look - worship, trust, devotion. He will look like that for a several minutes before coming back down to Earth - Jack and Bellamy have told him as much, with wildly differing opinions on it.
When Ed says I will change to Stede, he doesn’t look like that. He’s pleased, but doesn’t see Ed as his god, just a fellow human, with a human body and human emotions and human ambitions. And being seen like this feels so much better.
He wants that for Izzy.
In the morning Ed steels his resolve. He needs to talk to Lucius. Tell him he has Ed’s support in courting Iz. So Iz will know he has options. That he deserves more than scraps from Ed’s table.
No, Ed has given him even less than scraps, he realizes - not even the bare fucking minimum to keep Izzy content. Not even empty promises of treats, just plain not giving him anything. He spent his days avoiding Izzy’s eye, planning how to talk to him with the least amount of words, trying his best to forget Izzy’s existence as long as he stayed in line. Nothing but the stick, not a single carrot for years.
He has to let Izzy move on. Has to let him know he has options. A large part of him still wants to put a knife through Lucius’ palm for daring to even think about laying a hand on his Izzy, but it’s fast becoming smaller than the part that wants to become a better man. Perhaps soon he’ll stop feeling possessive over his past lover. Best friend. First mate.
He can’t be Blackbeard anymore. Doesn’t want to be Blackbeard. He doesn’t want to look at Izzy and only see property. Izzy doesn’t understand - that’s the problem, he doesn’t understand his own good. He might want to go back to the days when Ed owned him, might believe the only thing he’s good for is serving Ed, might fight tooth and nail against being freed, but Ed won���t let him suffer like that anymore -Izzy deserves better. And he'll see that once he’s let go of Ed.
Even if this isn’t the day he feels comfortable imagining Izzy in the arms of someone else, it will be the day he starts working towards that. He will talk to Lucius - give them his blessing, even if he doesn’t quite mean it yet.
So he seeks Lucius out - nervously, feeling faintly sick, but he does find Lucius and doesn’t dodge his gaze. He’s alone in his and Pete’s cabin, scribbling something in a large notebook - his sketchbook? The one where Izzy is drawn? Ed hopes he at least got his own page, and not just a corner among five other dicks.
Ed feels irritation rising to match his nervousness.
“Got a minute?” he asks, going for casual. No one is fooled. For one, because he doesn’t really look at Lucius these days, much less talk with him. That alone makes the whole conversation conspicuous as hell, and it’s only going to get more conspicuous from here.
Lucius gives a chilly nod. For a second, Ed wonders if he should sit down, but the only place is next to Lucius on the bunk and he doubts it would help things, so he stays at the doorway, attempting to lean casually on the wall, but he probably just looks constipated.
“So I’ve seen you getting kinda chummy with Izzy, huh?” He tries, tries so hard not to sound jealous, but doesn’t manage. It was supposed to just be a casual statement, but it comes out like an accusation.
For such a bubbly person, Lucius sure can look cold when he wants.
“Tends to happen with people who save your life.”
“Right, yeah”, Ed acquiesces right away, because it does tend to happen with people who save your life... as well as those who nurse you back to health, but somehow he’s much less possessive and much more terrified when Stede is the threat. “Makes sense that would help. So, um - things going well, then? You’re friends now? He used to hate you.”
Lucius gives him a well-deserved suspicious look, and Ed can’t keep his cool. Not that he’s been keeping it all that well up to now, but, you know. At least he hadn’t been sweating bullets before that stare. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, which his bad knee isn’t very appreciative of, he’s been pushing it too far these past few days.
“Not that feelings can’t change, obviously”, Ed bumbles. “He seems to like you well enough these days.” Well enough to put up a loud enough show to wake the whole ship and show his dick to Lucius.
“You had your chance. For decades, probably. Stop getting jealous just because he’s ready to move on.”
A flash of anger breaks through the guilt and shame, and Lucius must notice because grips his pen tighter and his legs tense up, ready to stand. Ed can’t blame him for that, even if Ed keeps proving he’s not Blackbeard anymore, that he won’t resort to violence in matters like these. That he’s atoning for his earlier actions, that he doesn’t want to be the person used to be, and that he doesn’t mean to resent people for not forgiving him.
“I - I’m not jealous, I swear. Go after him if you want, I won’t stop you, I promise. But you know he’s a difficult person.”
Lucius clicks his tongue and scowls at Ed in a very Izzy-like way. Like he’s been getting lessons. Like they’ve spent a lot of time alone in a confined space while Ed was busy crying after Stede and abusing Izzy.
“Thanks for reminding me, I totally forgot about all the times he bullied me.”
“So why would you -”
“Because he saved my life. And I realized he’s more complicated than he looks.”
Ed has to admit he’d been just as, if not more, surprised than Lucius himself that Izzy had saved him. In all the decades they’d spent together Izzy had always tried to make Ed take that final step instead of outsourcing it, and when he finally had personally tried to kill someone, Izzy goes and saves that person, claiming some bullshit about knowing Ed would regret it. He’d been right, of course, but he shouldn’t have thought that in the first place.
"So are you done threatening me? Can we both keep going about our days now?"
"I wasn't threatening you. I swear. If you want - and if Iz's up for it - I mean he probably is even if he thinks he isn't. Or wants you to think he isn't. He's weird like that. I'm sure you know."
"Eh. I think he's mostly just repressed. Learned not to show his true self from a young age. Doesn't know how to do it anymore. Might have a side of him even you don't know about."
Ed doubts that. They've known each other for so long, since they were practically kids. Were real close for a while, too.
He wants to gloat about that. That he knows Izzy far more intimately than Lucius does. That he's learned all of Izzy's secrets, even the one they've never talked about, that sometimes just comes to the surface, and is now becoming relevant again after years of inactivity.
But this isn't supposed to be a competition. Besides, it's possible Lucius already knows about Missy Izzy - even if they aren't fucking yet, Iz has been naked in front of Lucius, and the only times Izzy has his dick out are when he's peeing or being Missy Izzy.
"Whatever secret sides he shows you, don't draw attention to them. He hates feeling exposed."
Lucius looks at him like he's trying to figure out if Ed knows the same secret he does.
"In any case, be prepared to wear the pants in the relationship. Iz's a follower, not a leader."
"Mm. It gets annoying sometimes."
"I know. Teach him how to be an equal."
Lucius makes some sort of noise, Ed doesn't stick around to ask of it's supposed to be affirmative or disbelieving - he feels naked and vulnerable under Lucius’ sharp eyes, and it’s best not to give him any more ammo than he already has.
By evening, Ed is feeling surprisingly okay. He has a little stroll on deck with Stede, they look at the stars for a while, Stede sweeps him off his feet with the most wonderful kiss, and then they go to bed. Settling in comfortably, Ed as the big spoon, Stede begins their usual late night conversation - often it's light-hearted topics of little importance, just cozy small talk until they fall asleep dreaming of each other.
"I invited Izzy for another dinner", Stede mentions. Tonight's talk may be a bit more important than usual. "I can't tell if he agreed or not."
"What did he say?"
"Something along the lines of over my dead body”, Stede says with a surprisingly good impression of Izzy's sarcastic snarl. “But then he asked if he should dig out his finest silks and laces and prance into the cabin like a glittery spring lamb. I offered to borrow him some clothes if he liked but he spat on my shoes."
"If he ever asks to lend anything fancy, it's 'cuz he's planning to break it. He hates that shit."
"Has he always been like this?"
"Pretty much. Used to be less hostile about it when we young. Tolerated it in small doses. Or on certain people."
"Such as?"
Fucking hell. Did he really have to tell Stede about Bellamy, may he catch the plague. Ed didn't like it when bedtime talk turned serious, it always lead to uneasy sleep. And Sam fucking Bellamy makes him nauseous on the best of days.
"Ugh. There was this guy Sam - before he met me. Real asshole, if you ask me. Fancypants always thought he was better than everyone else. But for some reason Iz liked him”, Ed grumbles reluctantly, because the night is already ruined and if they don't have this talk now, they'll be having it some other time, and it's never a good time to talk about fucking posh-ass Bellamy.
"He mentioned a captain Sam once", Stede muses innocently, because he hadn’t lived through that fucking brownnose trying to steal his man.
“Black Sam Bellamy”, Ed growls. “Do yourself a favor and never meet him.”
“You sailed with Sam Bellamy?” Stede gasps in amazement and admiration, as if he himself hadn’t sailed with fucking Blackbeard which was infinitely more impressive. And because he hadn’t sat through all those fucking pretentious speeches with unnecessarily long words. And he hadn’t been macking on Stede's boyfriend.
“For a while”, Ed groans. “We all served under Hornigold, me and Jack first, and later Izzy signed on with Bellamy.” May he die of cholera. “Never could figure out why Izzy thought he was hot shit. He was always so fucking pretentious, calls himself the prince of pirates these days, fucking asshole.”
"Clearly Izzy thought you were - hotter... shit." Stede makes a face like he tasted the word as it came out.
"I appreciate you trying but don't force yourself", Ed chuckles.
"Are you sure I'm not too fancy?"
"Nah, love, you're just right."
There's a moment of silence. Ed isn't sure if Stede wants to keep talking, or if he's trying to fall asleep. But now that Bellamy has been brought up, Ed feels restless, something is crawling under his skin.
“I still don’t know if they were really together or just fucking”, Ed blurts out, and he doesn't know why he's lying. Maybe he's trying convince himself that he doesn't know they were serious enough for Bellamy to give Iz a ring, and for Iz to carry it with him for over two decades. Izzy will expose him if Stede ever asks. He’s just - feeling insecure, or something, now that Bellamy is present on both Iz's body and Stede's mind. This isn’t helping, by the way, it’s just making him more confused and guilty. Iz had been serious about Bellamy, until Ed stepped between that and ruined Izzy’s chance for a happy life for what amounted to a few years of passion, and then a lifetime of obsessive worship.
Though Ed’s sure no one would blame him for wanting Izzy. “Y'know, Iz was a real catch back then, just gorgeous. Think half the crew was after him at one point or another. I wanted him from the moment I first laid eyes on him”, Ed reminisces dreamily. Compact and sinewy and filled with spitfire attitude, like he had something to prove and he did prove it, time and again, showed he was a sailor through and through and a pirate even more than that. His skill with a sword had made Ed swoon even back then, and he’d only gotten better with time. “And he was fucking funny, when he cracked a joke the whole ship would shake with laughter!”
Stede gives him a disbelieving look. That’s understandable, current Izzy isn’t much of a jokester. Missy Izzy a bit more so, but barely noticeably.
“So for a while he was seeing us both. It’s torture, you know. Only having a part of someone, like that. Was just about ready to start planning Bellamy’s murder, that final year, but then the mutiny happened, and Izzy came to his senses. Dumped Bellamy and became my first mate. You can imagine how pissed he was!” Ed laughed. It had been glorious. Bellamy losing his shit on deck when not only did Ed refuse him a position in the crew, but also stole his beau!
"You should tell me more about your adventures from back then", Stede says, hand idly caressing Ed's side. It's tickling a bit.
"Sometime, sure. Or you could ask Iz."
"Would he tell me, do you think? I'm not sure we're close enough yet."
"He will if I'm there, too", Ed says. He can picture the three of them getting cozy on the sofa, or in front of the fireplace, maybe with a bit of wine, Stede looking star-struck as Iz recounts tales about their reckless -
Ed is startled out of his reverie by the lack of jealousy in the image. Gets his head back on straight. "He's got his sore spots, though. Might be best not to ask about those."
"Such as Sam Bellamy?"
"Yeah", Ed mutters darkly. Is Sam fucking Bellamy gonna be a regular thing from now on? It's only been twenty five years, it's way too fucking soon to be talking about him this often.
"...Do you suppose Izzy felt the same about me as you felt about Bellamy?" Stede asks quietly, self-conscious.
Having other people is your prerogative.
Ed stays quiet.
"Dear?"
"Bellamy's a sore spot for me, too."
Stede makes an apologetic noise and stops talking.
Having other people is your prerogative - in other words, I was fine with you fucking other people as long as I was your main squeeze.
Iz hadn't raised a stink about Jack. Because there had been no danger of Jack becoming the main squeeze instead of Iz. No one else, in all their years, had come nowhere near to toppling Iz off his throne, even after they stopped being intimate. For ten years, despite their strained relationship, Iz could feel confident about being the most important person in Ed's life.
Of course he had hated Stede.
The next two weeks are a steady stream of nails in Ed’s coffin. It seems like every day Izzy looks at Stede softer than the last, every day Stede is allowed a little closer, every day Izzy comes closer to smiling at Stede in the ways he used to smile at Ed and Bellamy. If you met them now, you never could’ve guessed they used to be at each other’s throats only months ago.
Ed knows the time is coming - even if Stede doesn't act any different with Ed, the shift is clear in how he treats Iz. Clear as day in his looks, his words, his smiles. Especially in his touches.
And then it happens. On a Thursday, when everyone is celebrating Wee John’s birthday, rum loosening everyone’s limbs and tongues, the night making some raucous and others mellow.
Izzy is one of the latter. He rarely drinks - it makes him absent-minded, calmer, nicer, makes him ruin his hard-ass image.
He only drinks rarely. So when he does, he gets drunk easily.
And when he got drunk, he would always come to Ed. He’d look relaxed, stumble his way over and then cuddle up next to him, like the cat who got the cream. He’d only ever allow himself to be like that with Ed. He’d only ever want intimacy from Ed. He’d only ever let himself be soft in Ed’s arms.
But because Iz - because he needs someone to worship, if there is no one worthy, then he’ll decide someone is worthy. He’ll pour all his efforts and attention on that person alone, will seek their approval and closeness, gives his love solely for that person, and if... and if that person decidedly rejects that worship, if they push against it with all their strength, and finally break free from their role as Izzy’s personal god, then he’ll choose a new god. And then it’ll be that other man he sinks down next to, that man whose shoulder who he will lay his head on, instead of yours.
And that will hurt worse than anything he ever did on purpose to hurt you.
Ed doesn't miss the way Stede smiles at Iz, notices him wrapping an arm around Iz's shoulder, sees them become lost in each other's touch.
Stede whispers something in Iz's ear, Iz nods tiredly, and Ed knows - this is the time. The moment has come. When life's constants break. The Sun will rise, Izzy will idolize you. The much more recent constant of Stede will love you. He’ll have self-doubts, he’ll panic about something meaningless, but in the end he will come back to you.
Until he sees how you’ve treated your supposed best friend and drive him to suicide. Then he will nurse that friend back to health and love him instead of you.
No one notices Ed excusing himself and slinking to the bed he soon won't be sharing with Stede. Draws all the blankets around himself tight as he can. Stops trying to hold in the tears.
For the first time ever, he wonders if this is how Bellamy felt when Ed waltzed into the picture - as Iz started spending more time with Ed, started looking more and more up to him, started neglecting Bellamy more and more. Did Bellamy also struggle between wanting to hold on and not wanting to cage Iz? Had he also truly loved Iz, in the same way Ed truly loves Stede? Loved enough to risk his life trying to win Izzy back, loves enough to let Stede make his own decision. If Bellamy, the fucking self-important ass-licker, also wailed alone wrapped up in the scent of the person he had just lost.
He hears the door creak quietly, and knows Stede has come in. He spares a thought to gathering himself, but it’s not something he wants to do right now, so he doesn’t. Something Izzy used to get on his case about.
Stede isn’t like that. Izzy can rest easy, knowing the things that need doing will be done.
There’s a soft touch to his back through theblankets, and an even softer “Dearest?” from Stede’s mouth. It only makes Ed cry harder.
He sits up, still cocooned in his blankets, only face visible, and even that just barely.
“We should talk about Izzy.” Because he can’t take this anymore, he needs closure. He promises himself he’ll accept whatever answer Stede gives, won’t begrudge him for anything he decides to do.
The caught look in Stede's eyes tell Ed everything he needs to know.
“I couldn’t help falling for him”, Stede says warily, but even then a small smile rises to his lips, and he looks so beautiful. It's the look of someone unable to contain their happiness, giddy about sharing their joy. “He’s much more complicated than I expected. At first I just wanted to help him, and it grew from there. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but I wasn’t planning to do anything about it. He’s still hung up on you.”
And Stede kisses him. Gently. Affectionately. Playfully. And earnestly. In the exact same ways he’s always kissed Ed. Not at all like he’s letting Ed go.
It's kind of him to keep pretending, to let Ed lie to himself that he still has time, that his bliss with Stede doesn't have to end yet. It's that gentle heart of his at play again - readying him for a softer blow, preparing him for a slower goodbye, thinking Ed hasn't been seeing this coming for weeks.
As tempted as Ed is to fall for the lie, he doesn’t want to keep pretending, doesn’t want his heartache prolonged in false hopes, doesn’t want Stede settling for second best and habits when he has found someone more interesting.
“Ed, dear, what is it?”
“You should tell him”, Ed sobs, wiping the snot from his face, because he wants to change, doesn’t want to keep being possessive and hurtful, doesn’t want to steal anyone away anymore. “I won’t stand in your way. I’ll leave if you want me to.”
Stede grabs his arm in a panic, like Ed is about to walk out on him. “Heavens, no, why would I want you to leave?" he asks in genuine distress, and Ed draws him to a soft embrace to calm his nerves. He strokes Stede's back calmingly, his own tears near forgotten from the sudden turning of the tables.
Stede answers his caresses in kind, and continues to speak in a soft, dreamy voice, like he can't believe his luck. "Izzy is free to want whoever he wants, I’m not hurt by it. I understand him completely - you’re an incredible man, Ed, how could he not want you? How could I not want you?” There is nothing but honesty in his voice.
“But you - you’re in love with Izzy now”, Ed says against Stede's shoulder, confused, overjoyed, but not understanding even a little bit. Still, he believes every single word.
“A little bit, I suppose”, Stede says with a small chuckle. “And very much in love with you. I don’t expect that to change at any time.”
“So you’re - you’re in love with both of us?”
Stede leans backwards out of Ed's embrace, only to take his hands and smile excitedly, cheeks dusting with a blush, like he’s thrilled to finally share a good secret, and nods.
Is... is that allowed?
Oh. In some cases it is - there’s an example right under his nose. Lucius has most of the crew in his circle, one way or another, and none of them seem to mind.
But it’s also Lucius. He must be a special case. Even if Ed finds himself quickly warming up to the idea of having both Stede and Izzy, and more importantly to Stede having both Ed and Izzy, he's not really... sure. And - and Stede is a gentleman, surely he wouldn’t... But even he has feelings, nothing you can do about those.
Unfortunately.
"You... you want to be with both of us?"
Stede blushes further, and his smile is so delighted. He’s shivering with emotion, so happy to finally speak about this, to reveal his feelings.
“I would, very much, I’d like that. Would you like that?”
"It's a bit of an unorthodox arrangement."
"We're pirates, what's orthodox about us?"
God damn, if Stede isn't making all sorts of sense there. Ed's face flushes, imagining all sorts of scenarios. All three of them together. Sharing not only a table. And not just the sex stuff - Stede taking care of Izzy, looking at him with fondness, touching him casually - in retrospect, now that Ed imagines it doesn't have to mean being left behind... It warms him, excites him.
"You’d be good for him. You've been good for him”, Ed encourages.
“Thank you. I hope he thinks the same”, Stede smiles fondly, but then he turns more worried. “I’m really not sure he’d go for it, though. He’s very devoted.” Then he gets that self-conscious look on his face again, the one he makes when he’s about to put himself down. ”And I’m hardly his type, besides. I’m sure it’d make him uncomfortable to ask.”
“Really seems to me like you’re very much his type”, Ed reassures him, gently lifting his chin to look him in the eye. “You’ve met him - you know Izzy doesn’t bother hiding his dislikes. But he keeps talking to you. He taught you knots. He leaned his head on your shoulder tonight.”
The worry and shame in Stede’s face melts into fondness again. “You are absolutely right, dear. But I just don’t know if he likes me enough to - break his vows, so to speak. He’s made it very clear he chooses one person and sticks to his choice no matter what. And he’s rather proud of it.”
Eh, if his experimenting with Lucius is anything to go by, Iz is already swallowing his pride on that front.
“The heart wants what it wants, right? He’ll have a hard time resisting if we’re all fine with it. Or more than fine.”
Stede thinks thunderously, desperately wanting to confess his feelings, but worried about getting his heart trampled. They both know Izzy wouldn’t be nice about rejecting Stede, even if they’re getting along well these days. It’s just part of Izzy’s personality - making sure every blow hits the worst it possibly can, sometimes at his own expense.
“All this uncertainty is tearing me apart “, Stede mourns, sinking back to Ed's arms for comfort. “Why can’t he make the first move like you?”
Ed kisses the top of his head. He’s sure Stede actually knows the answer, but sometimes it’s okay to state the obvious. “Because he’s even more terrified of rejection than you. You would ease his mind.”
“You truly think so?”
“Trust me. I’m kind of an expert on Izzy.” (youre really not tho)
Stede draws a deep breath, then clasps his hands together in a determined gesture, a shaky smile rising to his lips, still concerned about how it will go. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
Ed kisses him. “Go get him, tiger.”
“Tomorrow. But I promise I’ll do it. I just need to - rehearse.”
Ed chuckles at his completely unnecessary fretting. “I can be your practice partner. Hit me with your best shots, Romeo.”
#pivot points#fan fiction#our flag means fanfic#ofmd#steddyhands#izzy hands#blackbeard#stede bonnet#linssifanfiction#wiptale
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Pivot Points - Chapter 1: Hard Left
Masterpost / AO3
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
CW: attempted suicide
You wouldn't believe how much editing I did on this chapter. About 5(five!!!) times I was sure it was done, and just kept finding small things to add and/or change orz
I would recomment reading this on AO3, I have more thorough notes and tags there.
--
The final straw isn’t Spriggs getting uppity with him. That’s such a common occurrence these days it barely fazes Izzy anymore. There’s a real chance he’d be more shocked if Spriggs actually did listen to him instead of shucking off his duties.
“You’re not the first mate on this ship, Dizzy Izzy.”
It still wouldn’t look good to let anyone talk back at him, so every time this sort of thing happens, Izzy is forced to act. Words stopped getting through to Spriggs months ago, but fortunately bodily harm is his weak point - quickest way to get him to do fucking anything is to threaten him with something sharp.
The final straw isn’t Edward grabbing his wrist to stop him from pulling out his sword, either. Izzy would’ve appreciated him not doing that, but all in all, it isn’t that surprising these days. He’d gone real soft after fucking Bonnet came back. Despite having known him for thirty years, despite seeing him grow from average sailor and scrappy brawler to a fucking legend, or even a force of nature, despite seeing his lowest points where he wouldn’t get out of bed for a week straight, despite all that the Edward in front of him these days is a practical fucking stranger. Because he had fallen for some lily-livered fucking idiot who got bored of having a good life and decided to make a fucking mockery out of hard choices and necessity and nab anything he felt like along the way.
“Sorry, Izzy. Stede’s ship, Stede’s rules- no threatening the crew.” Fucking Bonnet. It’s like that fucking moron wants to get shipwrecked with all this fucking shoddy rigwork and crowded decks. Fine by Izzy if he feels like dying, but he doesn’t need to take his useless fucking crew with him- actually, no, he can take his whole fucking useless crew with him, just leave Edward and Izzy out of it.
“These lazy fucks won’t do their fucking jobs when I tell them to, and then you stop me from doing them myself! So what the fuck am I supposed to do, then?”
And Edward just groans and waves his hand like that was supposed to fix anything. As if just ignoring a problem would make it solve itself - or more likely, Izzy would find the solution in his place because that's how it’s been ever since Blackbeard started gaining a reputation, once Edward started feeling like not doing actual work. Which had been vast majority of the time for the last few years.
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re, like... above that and shit, Iz. You’re not some deckhand.”
It’s been a fair while since Izzy really exploded at Edward. Trust him, they’ve had their fair share of arguments, as all couples do, and his respect for Edward usually overrides his need for personal pride, and besides, more often than not Edward proved to have been in the right at the end, so Izzy’s learned to defer to him anyway. But he’s no doormat - he lets Edward have it when it’s deserved. And in this case it’s been deserved for months.
“Well if I’m not the first mate, and I’m also not a deckhand, or the helmsman, or any other rank, then what the fuck am I supposed to be doing all day when there’s a ship full of -”
“I dunno, man, just - “Edward sighs heavily, like he can’t be bothered. Because why would he be bothered, it‘s only his whole fucking ship and first mate and, oh yeah, his fucking matelot that are going to ruins at this rate! “Just relax, maybe? Have a vacation? Catch up on your reading? You’ve worked hard enough, you deserve some down time.”
Nearly anything else Izzy could have endured. He has endured many things - Edward sending him off after a rigged duel hadn’t been the final straw, Edward cutting off his toe hadn’t been the final straw, Stede fucking Bonnet traipsing back like the world owed him a favour hadn’t been the final straw, being demoted hadn’t been the final straw. They hadn’t been good times, but Izzy got through them because at least Edward had still cared, had still wanted him around, had still looked his way sometimes.
The final straw is Edward wanting him out of sight, so he can forget Izzy ever existed.
“Edward -” he starts, but stops himself. Also stops the hand reaching out to Edward. Draws a deep breath, reigns in the words he wants to say, shuts off the parts that want to kick and scream. Pulls himself back together.
Edward had chosen Izzy because he is put-together, effective, and good at following directions. “Captain. You could’ve told me this sooner. I would’ve gotten out of your hair.” It’s hard, keeping out the tears and rage out of his voice, and he isn’t sure if a perceptible amount seeped out. He can only hope Spriggs - who is still standing right there like a fucking twat that can’t tell a private affair from a dinner show - can’t read him well enough to know what the quiver means.
“Try to relax for once in your life, it’s not the end of the world. Maybe start with planning an itinerary for your leave, you like those”, Edward says airily, because to him bookkeeping doesn’t matter. He’s good at nearly all piracy-related things, and he’s a bloody brilliant sailor, but keeping logs and inventories has never interested him. It isn’t that Izzy particularly likes keeping them, either, it had just fallen to him because he had been the only other literate person on the Queen Anne and a habit is hard to break. Because Edward has never cared for having duties. Because he has never felt like making an effort where it really matters. With anyone that should matter.
“Captain.”
Izzy doesn’t know why he said it. He doesn’t know what he would continue it with. Edward doesn’t grace him with a response, because what is he supposed to say to such a non-statement? He just waves his hand non-committally and leaves. Izzy stares after him helplessly.
“Wow, a vacation. What a terrible fate”, Spriggs drawls sarcastically, and Izzy will fucking stab him to death right then and there, he swears he will. His life is already over, Edward can’t threaten him with anything anymore.
But he won’t, because he is good at following orders. No threatening the crew, Captain had said, and so Izzy will obey. Even if it is Spriggs, who was insufferable and has a weird look on his stupid fucking face and can’t tell when he isn’t wanted.
Izzy snatches the broom Spriggs hadn’t been using in the first place and starts swabbing the deck in his stead.
“Um, Blackbeard literally seconds ago told you to relax, don’t you think -”
“Let me get my affairs in order!” Izzy snaps at him. Spriggs raises his hands in surrender and doesn’t complain any further.
Izzy spends the rest of the day trying to get the ship in order. He inspects the rigging, provides Feeney with a note of which sails need mending, services the cannons, makes inventory of the weaponry and gunpowder, even scrubs off some barnacles from the hull. The crew give him looks, especially Spriggs, but say nothing. Even Edward says nothing, when he catches Izzy re-organizing the armory. So much for Izzy being like, above that and shit. He isn’t above anything. Isn’t below anything, either. He’s just falling apart inch by inch. He’s cracking at the seams. He’s boiling and he’s melting. He’s doing all the things he isn’t supposed to. He’s pointless. Reverted. Head empty. Gone back to his origins. Or not. He can’t tell, he isn’t coherent. Isn’t a man, at least. For the first time in a year.
The only thing he is anymore is resolute.
When the sun starts going down, and Izzy feels like he’s done as much as he’s able with the time he’s been allowed, he goes to his cabin. It’s only his because no one else wanted it - it’s a miserable trap without a porthole, so the only light comes from the candle Izzy has set on he small table he snagged from the - for heaven’s sake, the fucking rec center, honestly what was fucking wrong with Bonnet - and it gets stuffy in barely an hour when the door is closed. It’s as close to a brig as this bloody joke of a pirate ship has. Izzy imagines it was originally meant to be a storeroom, then was going to be converted into a cabin, but the work had been left unfinished for whatever reason - there is a bunk, and the beginnings of a wall sconce, but nothing else. Izzy could’ve used a bit more comfort, but he’d been happy enough as it provided some privacy. He was never much of a social person, and he also firmly believes in separation of command. Hard to command someone’s respect when you’re palling around with them, which is why Izzy stopped sleeping on the deck with the rest of the crew right as he gained a high enough rank.
Not that Izzy has been commanding much respect lately, anyway. Fucking Bonnet’s crew of fucking disrespectful imbeciles have turned him into a fucking joke that can get nothing done, since he isn’t allowed to beat them. Spriggs is the fucking worst of the lot, looking down his nose at Izzy, studying the best ways to push his buttons, knowing if anything happened then Izzy would get the blame.
Fine. So Spriggs has won. What does it matter anymore. All that’s left for Izzy to do is to put his meager property in order. He wants to change into a spare outfit, but that would raise suspicions, so he has to keep the black leather on. It’s been a long time since it last felt this uncomfortable. At least the ring feels as natural as it ever has, that one he will keep on gladly. He needs the dagger, but not the sword - on some level he wants to take it with him, because it’s his sword, it’s been with him for a long time and sits in his hand like a friend, but it’s a fine blade and deserves to find a new master. A good one. He hopes Edward will sell it, because no one from this shitty crew was worthy of this sword - apart from Jimenez, skills-wise at least, but personality-wise they’re a vindictive asshole - and Edward himself is more partial to knives. It would sell for good money, so Edward could buy another one of those ridiculous banyans he suddenly likes.
The money Izzy isn’t petty enough to take with him, but the letters he will. He hasn’t kept many of them, only the most important ones - a few from Suzanna, some from Sam, one from Anne. There are none from Edward, because he has never needed to write to Izzy - they have been together for thirty years. Side by side for twenty-five. Estranged for a few months. Apart for eight hours.
He wishes he could take something to weigh him down, but there’s nothing that’s both heavy enough and easily carried, and the last thing he needs is anyone waking up to him dragging his trunk around on the deck. The current should be enough to carry him away from the ship even if he floats, but he would prefer to be sure. He really doesn’t want anyone to see him. Couldn’t take a little teasing, they’d say, or about fucking time. If he just disappears, then they would think he’d finally had enough of this fucking farce and signed on somewhere else. He briefly wonders if Spriggs will keep up the mocking pretense of affection even after Izzy is gone, or if it’s only fun when Izzy’s there to witness it. Jesus fucking Christ, Izzy should’ve just let him die back then, and he would’ve if he’d known Spriggs would become this fucking annoying. Even sparing Edward the moral panic wasn’t worth all the needling. Bare your soul one fucking time and get shit for it for the rest of your life!
He chose the last hour of the morning watch, so the ship would be unguarded for the shortest possible time. Izzy would get to do his deed in secret, but the dawn would wake the rest of the crew soon. It’s a stroke of luck Fang has this watch - Ivan would have done almost as well, but he took longer to fall asleep, leaving Izzy less time. They both know Izzy sometimes has trouble sleeping, and would take over a watch to have something to do. Everyone on the Queen Anne knew Izzy doesn’t do well with idleness - everyone except Edward, evidently.
Or maybe he does. This could be his way of shirking off his duty and going oh well, he didn’t want to stay so there’s nothing I could do. Izzy wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always fucking loathed doing anything he doesn’t like, no matter how detrimental. Case in point, fucking Bonnet.
And now Izzy. Edward knows he should cut anchor, but he doesn’t want to. The reason Izzy can only speculate about, maybe it’s sentimental, maybe it’s practical, though Izzy can’t think of a reason for that - he’s basically doing nothing these days. Maybe it’s just for the amusement of the crew. But one thing is for sure - by this point, it isn’t affection anymore. It burns that Izzy’s been abandoned like this, but he supposes Edward could’ve been crueler about it, and perhaps Izzy himself could’ve been nicer about everything else. It was just - for years, he thought Edward had chosen him, the way Izzy had chosen him in return. To have and to hold, even if the words hadn’t been said. And Izzy has held - kept holding as his matelot slept with other people, kept even when Edward’s interest waned, is still holding when everything is finally over. Because he had chosen the duty to love and to hold Edward until death do them part. But Edward hadn’t taken his part seriously, he’d started dodging his duty almost right away, and then dropped it altogether barely a few years in. It hurts, when you think someone loves you and then it turns out you were just another fling. Anyone would get bitter.
A little past four o’clock, Izzy acts. Puts on his boots and waistcoat like nothing’s wrong, combs his hair, puts on a brave face. Stuffs the letters inside his shirt. Straightens everything out. Goes up on deck.
Fang is up in the crow’s nest.
“I’ll take over”, Izzy tells him in a tired voice, and little of it is acting. He is exhausted in all the ways a person can be - physically, mentally, spiritually. Fang makes space on the railing, and Izzy goes to lean heavily on it.
“Can’t sleep again, boss?”
“Yeah. Still a few hours before sunrise, you can get a nap in.”
Fang gives him an odd look, almost worried, but that can’t be right since it’s directed at Izzy. One: because there has never been a need to worry about Izzy, and two: Fang hates him, anyway.
“Or I could just keep you company. That’s nice, sometimes.”
It’s been several years since anyone offered to keep Izzy company. At the start of his pirating career, thirty-some years ago, he’d had some friends, and of course Sam. He’d been a different person, then, naturally. As he aged, he became happy with only having one’s person’s affection and attention. Of course, he’s since lost that, too, leaving only those who merely tolerate him and who he tolerates in turn. Mostly it doesn’t bother him - he’s made his bed, and he hasn’t felt like completely overhauling his personality. And now there is no longer a need.
Still... it does feel nice that Fang has noticed something’s off, and cares enough to try a little bit to fix it. Even if his method is the exact opposite of what Izzy wants.
“Better not. I’m not in a good mood.”
“That’s even more reason, in my experience”, Fang argues nervously, starting to lean slightly away from Izzy. Expecting a hit, maybe.
“Go to sleep. I will not repeat myself.”
Fang still hesitates, and his hand goes up to cover his beard. Izzy rarely feels shame for his actions, but this is one of those rare times - strange, since he’s never particularly liked Fang to begin with, and likes him even less after participating in the mutiny against Izzy’s extremely short captaincy. Granted, he’d basically been trying to incite a mutiny so he really shouldn’t be blaming Fang and Ivan. But there isn’t much you can do about feelings.
Unfortunately.
“Sorry for pulling your beard all those times.”
Fang forces an awkward smile, and finally climbs down. He’ll likely bunk down next to Spriggs and Pete. He’s been smitten ever since getting his cock sketched. Izzy never knew he was that easy, but then again, Spriggs is a special kind of fruit. Novelty can be surprisingly enticing.
Izzy enjoys the darkness and quiet for a while. He isn’t as good at reading the stars as Edward is, because no one is as good at it as Edward. He had taught Izzy a little, but he’s a bad teacher - because he’s so good at everything, he’s terrible at explaining anything. He just gets it, he doesn’t need to think about it. And he’s a fucking show-off, too, loves withholding information so he’ll look like a wizard when an unexpected fog rolls in or something. Fucking sausage clouds. Izzy can’t blame Bonnet for falling for Edward, because who wouldn’t have? Fucking magnificent twat.
After a while, everything on deck is quiet. Everyone in deep sleep. Even the moon is hidden behind the clouds, like it doesn’t want to spy on anything that happens. Just in time before sunrise, even. For once Izzy’s plans are going perfectly. He climbs down quickly, then walks quietly to the empty poopdeck - they’re anchored, so there was no need for a helmsman, thus no one to see him moving about. There’s a bit of wind, making the ship creak quietly, masking small noises, so maybe he’s being overly cautious, but Izzy hasn’t grown this old by being careless. He can only hope the splash won’t be heard over the waves. It is a fairly high drop, after all, and Izzy won’t have much control of how he falls in.
He stares down at the black water.
It... it should be warm. It’s the middle of winter, but it’s not like the Caribbean actually gets cold at any point in the year, so it would make sense for the water to be warm. At least it shouldn’t be cold. He won’t be feeling it for long in either case, but Izzy would still prefer his final moments to be warm. The biggest reason he left England had been to stop feeling so fucking uncomfortable in his own skin, but the shitty fucking weather that was always either wet or cold, or often enough both at the same time, had been a close second.
He draws in a breath, and lifts himself up on the railing. He takes a moment to take in the night air one final time, and lets himself enjoy. He was made for the sea, and all in all, he hasn’t had a bad life. He got most of the things he had asked for, and for a short moment he even had Edward’s love. Even more than that, he got all those while riding the waves in his own wooden kingdom, at home.
“Izzy.”
He nearly drops in prematurely as Edward’s voice suddenly pipes up behind him.
“What the fuck are you doing up? It’s still over an hour until sunrise!” Izzy scream-whispers, still wary of the crew. He doesn’t hear them stirring, and since he didn’t heard Edward coming he doubts they did, either, but you can’t blame him for being on edge. The whole point of doing this at night, alone, in the poopdeck, was so no one would see him! And now Edward has. Why not stick the knife in his neck right then and there if he’s been caught, anyway. Goddamnit.
Fuck, he really could’ve done without the attention, not like he’s getting it any time he asks so why does fate have to fuck him over like this?
“Knee’s acting up, needed to move it a bit. Thought you could use the company.”
Right, so Fang went to get him. Otherwise no one would know Izzy was on watch in his stead. Fucking tattletale. Should’ve pulled his beard after all.
“Don’t need it. Go back to bed.” Back to Bonnet.
“You giving orders to your captain?” Edward warns, and usually that voice would send a thrill down Izzy’s spine. But finally his body has gotten the memo, and knows it won’t lead to anything. He just sighs and turns back to the sea, so he won’t have to see Edward’s mussed up hair, trimmed beard, green banyan. His resigned eyes.
If Hell turns out to be real, Izzy’s greatest regret would be never getting to see Edward’s doe eyes again.
“You really going?”
Izzy’s hands grip the railing tight, and he feels his face twist in defensive anger.
“Fucking Bonnet won’t let me be first mate, you won’t let me be crew, I’m just - doing fuck-all while the rest of you play house. I can’t stay here.” And I can’t start over again with someone else, he doesn’t say out loud, because that would sound pointlessly needy when Edward can’t understand that some people don’t just move on.
And Edward just sighs. He can barely muster together enough of a fuck to make a fucking noise when his first mate and matelot of twenty five fucking years is about to fucking die. Izzy would’ve been less offended if he’d stayed silent and just fucked off.
A tense moment passes, where Izzy refuses to look at Edward, and Edward doesn’t bother doing anything. Until there’s another fucking sigh, and Izzy almost throttles him.
“If that’s what you want, then I won’t stop you.” Because why would he, when he so clearly wants this. He can’t wait for Izzy to fuck off out of his life. “Look, Iz, I know you’ve been unhappy, and I’m sorry for making -”
“Don’t fucking start with that pansy-ass bullshit -”
“No, I will.” And it’s such a tragedy that this is the time when the old Blackbeard comes closest to making a comeback. Edward’s eyes have that steel in them again, his body moves with the dangerous languor of a gun ready to fire, and his voice accepts no arguments. At that moment, he returns to being Izzy’s Captain, and angry as he is, he can’t help but be compelled to obey. This is what had drawn him to Edward in the first place, his confident authority, his violent magnetism. “Stede’s taught me that talking is good. Think it would’ve done us some good, even.” But then his authority fades again, and he returns to being Stede fucking Bonnet’s boytoy. Izzy can’t understand that, for the life of him he cannot fathom what compels Edward to Bonnet the way Edward compels Izzy. “Just... too late to start now, I guess. But I’m sorry I’ve made you not want to stay.”
It is too little too late, after the last few years, he’s right about that, but Izzy’s cold bitch of a heart has never known how to not melt at Edward. So he forgives Edward, of course he does. Suddenly he’s glad Edward is there, oddly comforted by his presence. Izzy’s life had really only begun when he met Edward, and now it will end, with Edward still next to him. A life encapsulated in Edward. His Captain.
He smiles, just a little bit, without meaning to. Perhaps he doesn’t matter much to Edward anymore, but nothing could erase those early years when they’d been the centers of each other’s worlds.
Izzy slips the ring off his cravat. He stopped believing in any kind of afterlife early on in his life, so he needs no reminders of Edward. And maybe Edward, who will keep living, doesn’t want reminders - but he could choose to think of it as Izzy giving him permission to be with Bonnet.
And judging by the brightened look in his eyes, he does choose to think of it like that.
“Not asking you to think of me or anything. Throw it out of you want to.” But secretly he hopes Edward will keep it, and think of him.
“I’ll keep it safe.” And Edward says nothing more, just slips the ring into a pocket, then stares out to the sea, in silence.
So that’s how thirty years go down the drain - quietly. Izzy supposes he should feel angry that his dedication means so little, that Edward hasn’t tried to make him reconsider even once, but in a rare event, he just feels calm. He hadn’t wanted to turn this into a number, and Edward hadn’t. He gave Edward a memento, and Edward promised to keep it. He had made a decision, and Edward hadn’t countered it. Izzy has gotten all he asked out of this.
He makes a light chuckle as he draws the dagger from its holster. “Would be nice if you did the honors. Starting and ending this whole thing.” But Edward can’t, for reasons Izzy has never understood. Even so, Izzy can honor them one last time.
He fiddles with the dagger in his hand. Just one quick slice, should be easy. Doesn’t even need to be deep, the sea would take care of the rest. Just one quick slice.
His hands are not shaking as he lifts the dagger to his neck, they are not shaking. Just one quick slice, justonequickslice.
“Izzy?”
Just one quick slice.
“Izzy -! MAN OVERBOARD, MAN OVERB-”
#pivot points#fan fiction#our flag means fanfic#ofmd#steddyhands#izzy hands#blackbeard#linssifanfiction#wiptale#suicide cw
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Pivot Points - Chapter 2: Veering Right
Masterpost / Ao3
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
CW: mentions of suicide
--
Even if Stede dislikes the man, it is disconcerting to see Izzy like this, so ashen and listless. He might even go as far saying that at times he hates the supposed first mate, but when Ed had dragged the man back on the deck, unconscious and bleeding, he’d felt worried and not just nauseated. Of course the vast majority of that had to do with Ed being so distraught at the thought of Izzy dying. Even if Stede finds it hard to feel actual sympathy towards the man who was constantly belittling Stede’s crew and especially Stede himself, and who sold him to the navy, and who was always sneering and scoffing and yelling and - the point is, even if the man is belligerent and unpleasant to everyone, there has to be something benign in him if Ed has kept the asshole by his side for so long. Maybe it’s whatever had possessed him to try and kill himself. Could be telling of an actual person beneath that seething ball of contempt and ego that was Israel Hands. So Stede feels a very small amount of concern for him, and might even wish for his survival, in a distant way, even if it is all for Ed.
Poor Ed hasn’t stopped crying the whole time. He was beside himself as they waited for Roach to get his tools together, and broke down completely when the cook started stitching Izzy’s neck back together. Stede didn’t have the heart to tell what he thought at the time - that it was too late, it wouldn’t do anything but waste their supplies. He could only hold Ed and pet his hair for hours as they waited for any sign of Izzy either passing on or waking up. It had taken until midday to convince Ed to clean off the blood and change his clothes, and then he came right back to sit by the bed, holding Izzy’s limp hand, tears in his eyes. He vowed to stay until Izzy woke up.
Even though it seems more and more likely that he never will. Roach had said his chances weren’t great, something they all had known right away. And with each passing minute, it seems even more unlikely. His breathing is shallow, his skin is pale as a ghost, and he hasn’t stirred the whole time Ed has been pleading him to wake up.
And even if he does, by some miracle, what’s stopping him from doing it all over again? He had cut his neck and jumped off the railing even with Ed, basically his raison d’etre, standing right next to him. If even that hadn’t been enough to stop him...
Stede could never have imagined Izzy harbored such thoughts. He just always seemed angry, never sad. But people are complicated, even ones such as Izzy. Perhaps in the future, Stede could make more of an effort to understand and sympathize with people he disapproved of, he hates to think he might’ve had a part to play in this. He did steal Ed from Izzy... even if it has been good for Ed, and Stede didn’t fully understood their relationship at the time, so he could hardly be blamed for taking the opportunity. And don’t get him wrong, he would do it all again if he was given the chance, just with more kindness. He would make sure Izzy understood he wasn’t trying to step on anyone’s toes, and he wouldn’t accept the duel that forced Izzy off the ship and into making a deal with the navy. He would try to guide Izzy into moving on from Ed and finding happiness with someone else, instead of flaunting his victory. Maybe then they could all live peacefully.
Being alone with his thoughts is too depressing. He wouldn’t share them with Ed, the poor man was distraught enough already. But Stede needs something to distract himself. Maybe distract Ed, while he is at it.
“Why don’t I read to him? He likes violent tales, perhaps Titus Andronicus would rouse him?”
Ed sniffs and manages a small smile at Stede. “Yeah, it couldn’t hurt. And he hates your guts so maybe he’ll wake up just to shut you up.”
“Darling”, Stede chuckles and gives Ed forehead a kiss. Titus Andronicus is not a play Stede much cares for, too much gore, but it was the first Shakespeare he found after coming back to the Revenge. He later found two others, on raids to particularly sophisticated ships, but as his book collection is still sorely lacking, he hasn’t had the heart to get rid of any in his shelves, distasteful or not.
When he returns, Ed is gently petting Izzy’s hand.
“You better wake up if you don’t want him to do the voices.”
“He’s right, you know”, Stede concurs, and throws a longing glance at the settee. It’s much more comfortable than the chairs they dragged next to the bed to keep watch over Izzy, and after several hours of sitting stiffly on a dining chair, he would like nothing more than to lounge a little. But Ed needs him, so Stede lets it stay as a glance, and sits down with his back straight, and begins reading out loud.
He’s just started the second act when Izzy finally makes a soft noise. Ed holds his breath, but when nothing more happens, he spurs Stede to keep going because it’s working, it’s working!, though Stede has his doubts. However, he keeps going, because it’s a comfort to Ed.
“Upon her wit doth earthy honour waite, and vertue stoopes and trembles at her frowne. Then Aaron, arme thy hart, and fit thy thoughts, to mount -”
There’s a pained grunt, and damn, but Ed is right! Reading really is working! Stede keeps at it, keeping as close a watch on Izzy’s face as he can between reading lines, while Ed gets on his feet in tense relief. Ever so slowly, Izzy comes to, first faintly twitching his fingers, then feebly lifting his hand the wound at his neck, and then hazily opening his eyes. His unfocused gaze roams sluggishly from the ceiling to Stede, who only stops reading once his face contorts into that familiar scowl. Yup, he is definitely awake.
“So it’s real”, he says quietly, defeated, voice drowsy and even raspier than usual, and weak. Almost unrecognizable. But he is awake, against all odds, and that meant Ed’s heart won’t be broken any further.
“Iz”, Ed whispers, voice full of tears, nearly as weak as Izzy’s. He’s still holding Izzy’s hand, and Izzy looks at it in disbelief. He tries flexing his fingers, but as the hands holding his turn out to be no mirage, his face softens.
“That’s awful nice of you”, he mumbles to himself, before closing his eyes again. Panic takes hold of Ed, and he abandons Izzy’s hand in favor of cupping his face frantically.
“Izzy please - please...” And then the tears are flowing freely again. “You have to make it, please stay with me Iz, you can pull through...” As he speaks, Ed’s hands travel to Izzy’s shoulders, as though getting ready to shake him.
“Darling, gently now. I’m sure he’ll make it, but you need to be gentle.”
“Shut up...” Izzy mutters weakly, probably seconds away from falling back into unconsciousness. Ed’s getting so frenzied he might end up doing something drastic unless Stede stepped in.
“Maybe you should go get Roach”, he suggests while setting aside Titus Andronicus on the table, to get Ed something concrete to do. Sitting here unable to help isn’t doing either of them any good. “I’ll look after him in the meantime.”
Ed agrees with a shuddering sob, maybe thinking the exact same thing. Izzy really is out of it, he doesn’t seem to even notice Ed leaving. He just stares at his hand in disbelief again, until his eyelids get too heavy and he’s halfway back to sleep. Stede thinks he should try to keep him awake until Roach gets back.
“You really scared us, you know. Doing something like that.”
No verbal answer, but Izzy does - with great effort - turn his back to Stede, so at least he is still awake. A shudder goes through him, and it might equally be from pain or disgust.
“Please try to get better, for his sake at least. He won’t know what to do if you’re gone.”
“He’ll live.”
“But he’d be unhappy. You mean a lot to him.”
Stede thought the words would bring some fight back into Izzy, that Stede admitting Izzy still holds importance to Ed would stroke his ego, but apparently the emotion is too raw to handle right now - Izzy begins curling into himself and hides his face in his hands. He moves slowly and haltingly, pain and lethargy taking their toll.
“Please don’t”, he whispers with a trembling sob.
He doesn’t strike Stede as the type to have ever said please in his life. Least of all to someone he hates. It must take a lot out of him, so what can Stede do but comply? He sits in silence for a short moment, Izzy laying still with his back to him, then Ed returns with a grouchy Roach in tow, and Lucius’ voice complaining outside the door about not being let in.
Izzy didn’t stay awake for long that first day. After a little over an hour he fell back asleep, exhausted from the loss of blood and emotional toll, even if he himself wouldn’t admit to it. And even though it started looking like Izzy would make a full recovery with time, Ed couldn’t stop crying. He could manage a tired calm as long as he wasn’t looking at Izzy, but anytime his eyes wandered to the bed he would burst into tears.
After dinner, as Stede is just starting to wonder where they would sleep since Izzy took up the bed, he speaks.
“You should stay to take care of him”, Ed says with a choked voice.. “He wouldn’t want to see me like this. He hates it when I look weak.”
“You don’t think he’d hate being in my care even more?”
“You don’t know him like I do. He can’t handle Blackbeard not being some immovable rock.” Stede has seen and heard hints of that - he doesn’t know the details, but from all the his name is Blackbeard, dog! and the annoyed looks whenever Ed joined in activities, he had suspected as much. And from what he’s heard from Ed directly, Izzy had from the start been much more invested in the legend of Blackbeard than Ed himself.
Also there was that major temper tantrum he threw when Ed officially denounced his captainship to better make amends with the crew he marooned, and to decisively discard the mantle of legendary pirate captain Blackbeard.
Ed blows his nose and wipes his eyes. The skin on his face is getting raw from all the wiping he’s been doing. “And he’d hate having anyone else see him in this state. Roach already has his duties -” and most likely he’d use the opportunity to take as bad care of Izzy as possible without actually killing him. “- and Buttons can be acting captain while he recovers, so you can look after him. Please?”
Stede can’t say he’s excited about the idea. Izzy throws enough shit his way when they barely interact, he’s not looking forward to the barrage of insults once Izzy’s dependant on him. But he’ll do it for Ed. And maybe in small part for Izzy, also.
Ed thanks him with a kiss, but looks somewhat defeated when he exits the cabin. He must feel quite inadequate for not being able to care for his long-time companion- Stede is hesitant to call Izzy his friend since their relationship has been fairly tense for years, according to Ed. Seems to Stede that he has kept Izzy around mostly because they’d sailed together for so long already. They both know how the other works, which makes running a ship that much easier. No doubt there was also a sentimental attachment, but it doesn’t seem as important as the practical aspect since Ed has spent a lot of time avoiding Izzy, as much as it is possible for a captain to avoid his first mate. Part for the pressure to perform the role of Blackbeard, part for the frustration of dealing with - well, Izzy. The man can’t even be nice to the person he idolizes.
Stede feels an equal want to explain it with both a difficult childhood, and with him just being an asshole. After all, Ed didn’t turn out like that. Or Stede. But then again, most people with happy childhoods don’t turn out so hateful. Stede knows very little about Izzy, could turn out he has a perfectly good reason to be so poisonous, so defensive, so ready to just attack anyone and everyone and piss off everyone around him and ensure he would keep being miserable to the end of his days.
Alright. Stede won’t stoop to his level. He is the Gentleman Pirate after all, his manners are always impeccable! Surely extending some sympathy won’t be an impossible task.
Izzy slept through nearly the whole evening, only waking up once to use the chamber pot, and once to Stede shaking him gently to offer food and water. He refused both with a tired mutter, and turned his back to Stede. He didn’t stir again even when Lucius came by with great dramatics. Stede managed to refuse him entry in the end, on the grounds of Izzy still not being in a state to have visitors -physically that was a given, but Stede didn’t mention that, and even less did he mention the psychological state. Izzy also stayed unmoving the whole time Stede busied himself around the cabin, making a temporary cot on the floor - while the settee was quite nice for lounging in, it wasn’t quite long enough to really lay in comfortably - or when accidentally spilled hot tea on his foot and had to hop around one-footed to find something to treat the burn with, or when he finally wished Izzy goodnight sometime before midnight. And when Stede woke up in the morning, Izzy seemed to still be in the same position he had taken in the evening. He also refused the breakfast Roach had left behind the door - with a snappy fuck off, naturally. Stede of course left it on the table, planning to step out of the cabin for a few hours to let Izzy stew alone and change his mind once he got hungry enough.
So, yes, extending sympathy isn’t an impossible task but Izzy sure isn’t making it easy, either. No wonder Roach finds it so hard to act civil with Izzy. They should really give him something nice for patching up Izzy so well despite hating him and having the perfect opportunity to take revenge. The poor man really didn’t take well to being marooned.
Stede finds Ed in the rec center, playing checkers with the Swede. The game is immediately abandoned when he spots Stede, and he quickly leads Stede deeper into the cargo hold, to speak more privately.
“Is he any better?” Ed asks anxiously.
“He’s awake, at least”, Stede sighs. “But being difficult.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less of him”, Ed tries to laugh, but it’s much more of a sob. Stede offers him a hug, and Ed takes it desperately. He’s about to get more desperate, Stede is afraid.
“He refused dinner. And breakfast. I left it on the table, I hope he’ll have some while I’m away. Do you know his favorite foods? He’s still weak, I’m hoping he’d eat better if it’s something he likes.”
“Haven’t really paid attention. He usually eats alone, you know.” A sob shakes Ed’s shoulders, and Stede tightens his hold slightly. “Do you think it’s my fault? That he feels lonely?”
“Of course not, darling. He doesn’t strike me as the type try very hard to be social.”
“But I started withdrawing first. I was always avoiding him, what if I -”
“Hush. You can’t blame yourself for the choices Izzy made. He isolated himself, and stayed on your ship. He chose not to seek other people.”
“But I should have noticed”, Ed laments.
While Stede is surprised Ed hadn’t noticed, he in no way faults him for it. Despite them working together for decades, it’s not out of character for Izzy to work hard to hide all his hurts and look tough no matter what, much like an alley cat who can’t afford to look weak, lest he be eaten first - the pirating life isn’t an easy one, and leaves a mark on everyone who leads it. Even Ed had to maintain an image to keep himself safe, forcing him into a mold that didn’t fit him properly, leaving him aching all over. And while things aren’t like that on the Revenge, and even if Ed has learned that showing vulnerability is alright and even healthy in some cases, Stede can’t expect Izzy to have learned the lesson this fast. For one, the crew hates him and would shove that vulnerability where the sun don’t shine - for good reason, Stede might say, though he’s not sure he wants that calling-out anymore - and Stede can’t claim himself to have been very nice to him, either. Civil, with some effort, but not nice. So really, it makes sense Izzy wouldn’t let his troubles show.
“My guess is he didn’t want you to notice”, Stede says softly, comforting. He pets Ed’s hair and keeps himself steady as Ed slumps against him more and more. “He seems a rather private man, and independent. Perhaps he doesn’t even know how to ask for help.”
“We’ve been together for 30 years”, Ed sniffles, and Stede can’t tell if he means relationship-together or coworkers-together. He wants to say the latter, but that would just be lying to himself. It’s clear to everyone that there was at least a bit of the former, and more likely a lot. “Should be able to tell when something’s wrong even if he’s hiding it. He could always tell when I was down.”
And proceeded to force you into the role he wanted you to perform instead of making it better, Stede thinks bitterly, but doubts will ever say out loud.
“Like I said, I highly doubt he wanted you to know. You’ve known each other long enough to know how to hide things from each other.”
“Not me”, Ed mutters, still intent on blaming himself. He’s not in the mood to be fully comforted, but hopefully later he will allow Stede to make him see sense. But for now, all he can do is keep petting Ed’s hair the way he likes it. Izzy probably never did that. He doesn’t seem like a man who’s good at intimacy.
“What’s done is done. You can’t go back in time to stop him, and he can’t go back in time to stop himself from wanting it”, Stede says softly. “Take it from me - I’ve recently learned a hard lesson in regrets and do-overs. When you can’t stop something from happening, the only thing you can do is try to make up for it. Be there for him now. Give him attention, let him know you want him here, open up about how you feel.”
“He wouldn’t want any of that”, Ed sniffles stubbornly. Stede suppresses the annoyed sigh and keeps the soft tone he’s been using a lot lately.
“I didn’t want Mary trying to kill me, but it turned out to be exactly what I needed.” A harsh reality check, one that finally solidified to Stede what he needs and wants, and what Ed and the others deserve.
After Ed calmed down, he went to the galley to help Roach out with lunch preparations. Stede idled on the deck for an hour, chatting with the crew and convincing Lucius not to storm the captains’ cabin, then spent a few more in the rec center with Frenchie teaching him the lute. The end result is Stede learning nothing but mnemonic devices to which note sounds like which cat screech, either due to himself being wholly ungifted in the musical department, or Frenchie being the same in the teaching department.
After many a no, it’s more like a black cat yowl and it’s actually the opposite, but that’s how I learned to remember it lunch time arrives, and Stede decides Izzy had enough time to get over his pride and finish his breakfast in peace. Or better yet, sneak out and off the ship. His confrontational attitude isn’t doing him any favors, even at his lowest point he insists on making an enemy out of his caretakers. It makes Stede resent him even more than he used to, and pity him in equal measure. It’s hard to imagine him being happy, living like that.
And, well... They have proof of that now, don’t they?
Stede fetches a bowl of delicious-smelling lamb stew for Izzy, and takes notice of how little has changed in the cabin while Stede was away. Izzy’s arms are maybe a little more tightly wound around himself, the bandages around his neck are definitely grungier, but most notably, the food and water are still completely untouched. He must be sore and famished by now, laying down in the same position for several hours and not eating for over 24. And Roach’s potato pancakes are always mouth-watering! Stede finds them hard to resist even like this, cold and dry from hours of standing uncovered on a table.
“Potatoes not to your liking?” Stede asks tentatively, and a little angry for the waste. Izzy only grunts quietly, not making clear if the problem was indeed the potatoes or just food in general.
“Roach cooked excellent lamb stew for lunch, I’ve brought some for you. Why don’t you come sit at the table? Have some wine to go with it?”
“No”. No elaboration, no anger, just a tired no. Like all the fight has been drained out of him.
“But you must be hungry. You didn’t eat all day yesterday and it’s past noon.”
Another undecipherable grunt this time, not even a single word. Stede feels his heckles being raised, so he takes a deep breath and counts to ten, reminding himself about the circumstances that have raised the situation. That it can’t be easy for Izzy, either.
“Should I give your portion to Lucius then? He was begging for seconds because it was so good.”
“Do whatever you want.” Again sounding nothing but tired.
“He’ll appreciate this, thank you.”
This time there isn’t even a grunt. It’s no secret they have started getting along, though Izzy does make a show of claiming it isn’t true. But the way he most often spends his free time talking with Lucius, and the way they often work on the logs together without griping, speaks with a louder volume. Word around ship is that Lucius is even teaching Izzy how to draw.
“You’re not as mean as you think.”
A scoff that should be mean, but is just resigned instead.
“I noticed you chose a timing that would do the least damage. You’re very considerate, in your own way”, Stede continues, to prove his point.
“Wasn’t for your benefit”, Izzy mutters, and it lacks all the usual malice. He sounds so worn out, and Stede feels a sting in his heart. It’s like Izzy’s given up. It’s already the second day, and he hasn’t had a single bite of food, or a drop of water, and he’s already wasting away from bloodloss. At this point, it might only be a matter of hours before he dies.
And maybe... that might very well be his plan. Since his attempt at active suicide failed, perhaps he thought to try his hand at a more passive method.
Stede has never felt so helpless. He doesn’t know what to do with a man who feels like that, what he can say to make life feel worth living. Especially when he doesn’t particularly care for the man! Even now, when Izzy is laying in bed wanting to die, Stede feels so annoyed! The man is just terrible at following orders, and responds even worse to positive reinforcement! He never has a kind word to say, his manners are horrible, and he lets good food go to waste!
“Israel Hands”, he finally demands, having reached his breaking point, as Izzy keeps laying there with a scowl on his face, pointedly turned away from Stede. “What must I do to make you eat?”
“You could try drowning yourself. Couldn’t hurt.”
“Or I could sit here holding the spoon to your mouth for hours until you’re begging to be rid of me by any means necessary! Or better yet, I could get Ed to do it! You’ve never had trouble listening to him!”
Izzy barks a mean little laugh at that, and his expression turns bitter. Finally, a real reaction, but it only makes Stede feel worse about everything. He didn’t want this to turn ugly, he just wanted - something other than this, ugh!
“He wouldn’t do it. He doesn’t fucking care whether I live or die.”
His voice is so tight it could strangle him. Again Stede feels a twinge of pity for the man.
“Now, that’s not true and you know it. He jumped in after you and wouldn’t leave your side until you woke up”, he says softly. He’s not sure how lucid Izzy was when he first woke and how much he remembers, but he must at least know who fished him out of the ocean.
“Yeah, and then he fucked off and left his fucking boyfriend to look after me.”
It’s a quiet statement, but Stede still flinches at it - Izzy is a bitter and angry man at the best of times, so it’s saying something when he sounds more bitter and angry than ever, and yet even then, an even greater sadness shines through now. He’s devastated that Ed isn’t here, that he’s been left alone with Stede, that he’s been abandoned all over again. “He stopped caring a fucking decade ago, and that’s why you’re here instead of him, because he doesn’t fucking give a shit what happens to me anymore.”
Stede used to think Izzy incapable of melancholy feelings, and certainly unable to produce tears. That he either must’ve been born without the emotions necessary for such things, or had starved such soft things out of himself, until the only thing left was jealousy, sarcasm and resentment. He used to think that Izzy was human only in the meanest sense of the word.
And undeniably, Izzy is mean, and rude, and vitriolic. But underneath all that viciousness is someone who feels deeply betrayed, and is heartbroken enough to show weakness to his sworn enemy. He is, beyond a doubt, a human, just a man with stunted emotional growth.
“Should’ve known I wasn’t special -” he starts, then abruptly stops himself, as if he didn’t meant to say anything. A wrecked sob escapes his lips, shaking Stede to the core. Izzy takes his reaction the wrong way, perhaps unintentionally, perhaps intentionally, to shield himself from being vulnerable, because he doesn’t know how to defend himself without attacking. “Laugh it up, in a few years it’ll be you bawling your eyes out like the stupid fucking pansy you are!” The venom of the words would hit harder, if the voice delivering them wasn’t so wet and broken that Stede found himself tearing up as well.
Stede is less shocked about himself reaching out to embrace the man than he is about Izzy accepting it. With the violent sobs rocking his body and his hands clutching at Stede’s coat, it’s solidified - Izzy Hands is no longer the necessary evil to having Ed around, he’s a real person in real pain, and Stede has never been good at ignoring such people.
“He does care. He was terrified that you would die, I could scarcely get him to leave your side to get cleaned up. He couldn’t stop crying even after you woke up - he only left because he thought you wouldn’t want to see him like that. Weak, he means.” He keeps gently stroking Izzy’s back, who stays quiet until he can reign in the sobs enough to speak clearly. It takes several minutes, relaxing slightly in the process.
“He’s right, I would’ve hated that”, he eventually mutters into Stede’s shoulder.
“Crying isn’t a sign of weakness, you know. Do you think you’re weak just because you’re crying right now?” Stede says in his best fatherly tone, which might not be very good, objectively speaking -he was always a relatively distant father and doesn’t have much practice.
“Obviously.”
It’s clear Izzy never had a flattering opinion of himself, with all his posturing that tries so desperately to command respect and how he needs to put others down to feel better about himself, but it is surprising he would admit it like this, and to Stede no less. And Stede isn’t a stranger to such feelings - he has so often been the target of such tactics, and he knows how hard it is to let go of pride. His bullies would never have admitted it like this.
He tries another approach.
“Well, do you think Ed is weak because he cries sometimes?”
“It’s different for him, it’s just for the moment.”
“It’s not different. You are both strong men who have strong feelings.”
“The fuck is this sissy bullshit”, Izzy grumbles, but notably doesn’t pull away. Some minutes pass in silence, Stede petting his back and hair, while Izzy wills himself to calm down, and then reluctantly lets go.
“Don’t think this changes anything”, he sniffles, trying for menacing. Stede offers him a handkerchief, which Izzy ignores in favor of his own sleeve. Because apparently it’s more manly to walk around in snotty clothes. “I still hate you.”
“The feeling isn’t mutual”, Stede says honestly, and tries to let it show in voice. “Should I ask Ed to come in?”
“No - I don’t want him to see me like this”, Izzy sighs, bone-tired. He runs a hand through his dirty, mussed-up hair to get it out of his eyes. His beard is also untidy. His clothes are disheveled and smell terrible. He’s the very image of a depressive episode, seeing him now you’d never know how hygienic he usually is. “Give me a moment.”
“I can ask him to come in half an hour?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Stede smiles warmly at him, and Izzy almost answers in kind. He catches himself just in time, though.
Perhaps it’s a good thing, even, Stede isn’t sure if his heart could handle that on top of all the other feelings in such a short amount of time. He gets up to leave, remembers filling the wash basin after his own morning routine, and thinks Izzy might want to use it to fix himself up a bit before seeing Ed - he is a stickler for keeping up appearances. “Feel free to use the wash basin, the water’s clean”, Stede says on his way out, and Izzy mumbles something he can’t quite catch.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. Fuck off.”
Ed is mending the sails on deck with Wee John. His sewing is improving by leaps and bounds under Wee John’s tutelage, so much so that he’s been talking about making some alterations to his wardrobe - some seam adjustments here, an embroidered detail there. Just small things for now.
He greets Stede with a kiss.
“How is he?”
Stede looks at Wee John, unsure if they should be talking about Izzy with him there. But since John makes no move to leave, and Ed seems equally content staying in place...
“Getting better, I think. Should be up and moving about by now. You should go talk with him.”
Ed looks both hopeful and apprehensive. His sewing stills.
“Do you think he’d want to see me?” he asks quietly. “I mean, I’m still - like this. And I look like a mess.”
Ed is being too harsh on himself, he doesn’t look all that bad. A bit frazzled, a little frayed at the edges maybe, but it could be all be tacked up to a few sleepless nights. Stede is sure he doesn’t look half as bad he feels.
“He asked to see you, so yes.” Stede takes another look at Wee John, and decides Izzy would want some things to stay private. “We should drop by his cabin, first. He was asking for some of his things.”
“Sure. I’ll get back to the sails as soon as I can”, Ed says to John, who nods in understanding and sympathy. He was among the first to forgive Ed, and has become a sort of confidante as well as mentor. He’s well-liked among the crew, and having his goodwill made the transition from the Kraken back to Ed much easier.
The walk to Izzy’s cabin - originally a linen closet for Mary, then a half-finished private cabin, before being abandoned as an empty storage room - is quiet except for Ed’s heavy sighing as he tries to gather himself.
Stede closes the door behind them, and the room goes dark - he’s forced to reopen the door so he can see enough to light a candle. They really should do something about the lighting situation now that someone has taken up residence.
“He didn’t actually ask me to bring anything.”
“I figured, he doesn’t really own a lot of stuff. He’s wearing most of it. And I doubted you would’ve agreed to bring him anything sharp yet”, Ed says, throwing a look at Izzy’s sword - set on top of his neatly made bed, deliberately on display. Before, Stede would’ve said it was some kind of threat, or a reference to a promise Ed had broken, but now he’s not too sure - could just be a memento.
“He cried. Thought you didn’t care, that you abandoned him and left me in charge of him because you couldn’t be bothered.”
For several seconds Ed only looks shocked - Stede isn’t surprised, after all Stede only learned Izzy was capable of tears minutes ago. It’s likely Ed hasn’t seen Izzy in tears in years, perhaps never. “Fuck”, Ed eventually mutters.
“Of course I told him it wasn’t like that.. And you were right - he admitted he would’ve hated seeing you crying.”
“Good old Izzy”, Ed tries to laugh but it comes out too wet to be anything but a sob. “Better get a hold of myself, then.” He brushes his hair out of his face and straightens his shirt. His face doesn’t look any better, though.
“You have some time. He asked for half an hour to clean himself up.” Stede hesitates for a while, wondering if he’s already revealed too much about Izzy’s state since he clearly wanted to conceal the worst of it - but it might do them both good to have concrete evidence of the effect they had on each other. If Izzy is worried that Ed doesn’t care for him, surely it would reassure him to see Ed not at his best? And shouldn’t it also be good for Ed to see what a strong effect he has on Izzy in turn? Having them both be more honest and open to each other couldn’t possibly hurt. If you asked Stede, an honest, deep conversation about what they meant to each other would’ve nipped a lot of problems in the bud. He should encourage them to have one. Once things calm down a little and Izzy stops feeling so defensive.
“You could brush my hair, then?” Ed suggests. He likes having his hair played with - he almost starts purring like a cat when he gets a good brushing.
“Left your brush in the captains’ cabin, I don’t want to interrupt Izzy. Maybe you could ask him to do it.”
It’s... a bit scandalous, now that Stede hears it out loud. Brushing someone’s hair can be a fairly intimate affair, after all.
“Guess the hair can wait”, Ed sighs. “Does it look terrible?”
“It looks just right, like the rest of you.”
In the end, Ed asks Stede to comb his hair with his fingers, to get the worst tangles out. They speak some quiet, reassuring words, then make the trek to great cabin, and Ed makes one final deep sigh, straightens himself out, and goes in without knocking. Stede stays outside, pacing nervously.
The urge to eavesdrop is strong as an ox, but Stede takes it by the horns, and after a few minutes wrenches himself away from the door. Even if Izzy is his patient, and Ed is his lover, and they have some history together, they have the right to privacy. They don’t need a chaperone for a conversation when they’re both feeling so vulnerable, and timid, and... Oh God, the words vulnerable and Izzy can’t be a good combination! A vulnerable Izzy is a defensive Izzy, and defensive Izzy is an aggressive Izzy! They really should have someone mediating the conversation, to make sure words won’t be misinterpreted or - or meant, in the heat of the moment!
With his hand already on the handle, Stede finds resolve again. This is a private matter, something Izzy needs solved with Ed, and only Ed. He won’t believe anything Ed says if Stede is there to meddle and guide, thinking it would all be orchestrated. If it gets messy, so be it - but it would be a messy Izzy could accept as the truth. And if he doesn’t want to hear it, well, then he’ll just have to ignore it and learn how to to live while being miserable.
...unless he decides against ignoring and instead fights back with something truly terrible and then Ed will be a wreck for God knows how long, and they’ll have to either throw Izzy overboard or wait for him to do it himself, and -
Oh for heaven’s sake, they’re both adults, they can handle some real talk even if it wounds them and maybe it’ll leave permanent scars or maybe it’ll cut too deep and then Ed will cutting off another toe or Izzy will be stabbing himself in the neck and jumping off the railing all over again and -
Ah. There comes Ed. Unwounded, calm. Exhausted, but calm.
“Stede, love, have you been pacing up and down the hallway this whole time?”
“Ah, well - I was terribly worried about Izzy - and you. He was still quite shaken up when I left - you know what he’s like, I’m sure.”
“I do.” Ed grins lopsidedly and ruffles Stede’s hair. “Known the man for thirty years, after all. No need to worry - he kept his fangs in check. I did, too.”
Dear God, does Stede love him, but the things he’s capable of sometimes... He isn’t sure if their relationship could survive another maiming.
“He’ll be okay”, Ed says, with a small sad smile, and then leaves. To work, perhaps, or just to take a moment for himself, or whatever. Ed is alright - Stede has to see how Izzy is doing.
He steps inside, and sees Izzy’s finally up from the bed. He’s sitting at the table, remains of his lunch in front of him on the table, staring through the table into nothingness. He looks so much more like he used to, hair slicked back, cravat and ring place, single glove on his hand. Even with the dirty bandages very visible around his neck, he feels like a familiar sight again, of something you try to avoid because it stirs up bad memories. But his face gives Stede pause -not even the beginnings of a scowl, just a thoughtful frown.
“Did you have a good talk?” Stede asks carefully.
“He thought I was jumping ship. Try to find a new captain. Or become captain myself”, Izzy says, puzzled, continuing to stare into that empty space, talking more to himself than to Stede. He doesn’t know how to answer, or if he’s even supposed to. The frown on Izzy’s face deepens, morphing from thoughtful to the beginnings of angry.
“He should know me better than that”, he continues still into that empty spot of table, hands curling into fists. “I chose him over Sam. It’s been 25 years, he should know better. That I stick with my choices.”
Stede should ask Ed about this captain Sam, he doesn’t remember hearing about him before. He always thought they sailed under captain Benjamin Hornigold before striking out on their own.
“He told me you’ve threatened to leave before. But you always came back, that you were never serious. And this was the first time you tried to do it in secret, so he thought you really did want to leave this time.”
Izzy falls silent, looking very lost. Stede looks on helplessly, feeling like he should offer a shoulder to lean on, or rub his back, or something, but now that he looks like... well, himself again Stede’s scared to get too close. He’s been bit too many times.
“I did want to leave this time”, Izzy says quietly, and while he still looks like the old Izzy, he sounds nothing like him. The old Izzy was sharp, mean and derisive, he was never wounded. Or more likely... he just hadn’t let it show.
“We haven’t given you much reason to want to stay”, Stede admits, and Izzy looks at him like he just grew another, suspicious head. He knows he hasn’t treated Izzy kindly, but he could hardly be blamed for it, could he? And more importantly, hasn’t he showed that he’s willing to forgive and start over?
“Have you been drilling what to say? Is the crew gonna say the same fucking bullshit as you two?” Just like that, Izzy’s gone from wounded to wounding again. Stede can’t tell what has triggered the reversal, so the only thing he can do is stay honest.
“We haven’t said a word to the crew. Of course they know you’re in here, but nothing else.”
“Yeah, right. Bet Spriggs has been gossiping everyone’s ears off -”
“Lucius came by a few times to ask how you were doing, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted him to know. So I said you’d tell him yourself if you wanted.”
“Why the hell would I want to tell that fairy anything”, Izzy grumbles.
“Because he’s been worried.”
“He’s been waiting for a chance to make fun of me. He can’t wait to shove this in my face.”
Stede sighs in annoyance. Izzy is a stubborn miser who can’t even accept his friends worrying over him, he just has to twist it into something negative. Training him out of this habit is going to take a lot of time and effort.
“If you can’t accept the truth, then perhaps I could interest you in some roleplay. I’ll be Stede Bonnet, a gentleman pirate -”
“What the fuck -”
“-who is graciously taking care of you, even if we don’t see eye to eye. And you’ll be Izzy Hands, a fearsome cutthroat who has noticed no one has come in to make fun of him, so he can relax and let himself be taken care of.”
Izzy eyes him suspiciously, but he can’t argue with the facts. Since he first woke up, the only person to come in has been Ed, and only out of Izzy’s request.
“You don’t need to believe any of this, just play along to make Ed happy.” And your own life easier.
“You’re a nutcase”, Izzy huffs and shakes his head, but there’s something amused in his expression. Encouraged by the change in atmosphere, Stede changes the subject to something that has been bothering him the whole morning.
“I disagree. And I also disagree with the state of your bandages! You should’ve had Ed change them.”
“I can do that myself. Just didn’t have time.”
It’s very possible he could, but the cut is high up on his neck, and he’d have to stretch the skin to see it properly. Stede might not know much about tending to wounds, but that doesn’t sound like a good idea.
“I wouldn’t doubt that, but as per our role playing deal, the Gentleman Pirate takes good care of his guests, and even better care of his patients.”
Izzy lets an amused smirk slip out for just a second, then catches himself and just grumbles him to go on with it then, and unknots his cravat to set it on the table, making a loose knot to keep the ring safe. It’s a fairly simple, thin band of gold with a small gem in the middle, probably an emerald. Not terribly valuable, but quality work.
Izzy ends up having to instruct Stede the whole way through - to wet the bandages first, since the dried blood makes the layers stick to each other and the skin, what signs point to a healing wound and which ones to an infection, how to clean the wound to make it least painful, how to wind the new bandages so they don’t slip and fall. He’s a surprisingly good teacher when he feels like it - he explains how and why, instead of his usual style of just snapping at Stede and offering no explanation on what he’s doing wrong and why it matters. Stede almost comments on it, but since they’re on shaky ground, it might not go over well.
The whole time Izzy does his best to wince, but for the moment being his best is not very good. No doubt he’ll get himself back in check in a few days, once the raw emotions have had time to scab over, along with the wound on his neck. At one point, a particularly stubborn splash of blood lets go with a sudden snap, and Izzy’s lets out a noise like a kicked dog, and his eyes go watery and he bites his lip. That’s one of the few noises he makes - mostly it’s sudden gasps and holding his breath while screwing his eyes shut. Stede doesn’t comment on any of it, thinking it might be for the best to let Izzy pretend his attempts are fooling Stede. Let him salvage whatever tiny amount of pointless pride he has left.
Once all the bandages are off, Stede takes in the wound and tries to use Izzy’s advice to assess its state - it looks ugly, is what he can tell, but not really anything else. The skin is red and puffy, the edges of the wound purple and undulate unevenly, but at least there doesn’t seem to be any pus on the old bandages, just blood. The stitches are uneven and pull on the skin - Roach had been in a hurry to do them, less interested in a neat end result and more with stopping the profuse bleeding. It’s going to make a long and very visible scar, starting from under his left ear, all the way middle of his throat. He’ll be a man forever marked by that scar - too high up to effectively hide with a cravat or scarf.
Speaking of cravats - “Maybe you should leave off the cravat until the wound has healed.”
Izzy stays silent, letting Stede finish putting on the new bandages, and then agrees with a defeated sigh. He takes the ring, and first tries fitting it on his left pinky - too loose, it would fall. He then gives Stede a warning look as he puts it on his left ring finger - it fits near perfectly. Stede says nothing about it. Not his business why Izzy is so bent on wearing it at all times, even less where he decides to wear it. Might be a family heirloom. Quite possibly the only thing of value his family had owned, as Ed had implied Izzy hailed from an equally, if not even more, humble background as him.
Satisfied that Stede has heeded the warning, Izzy gets up from his chair, noticeably stiff, and Stede rushes forward to steady him somehow, but ends up hovering awkwardly at an arm’s length because he doubts Izzy would appreciate the help.
“Do you still have the cane? Should I bring it?”
“Don’t need the bloody cane. Just been lying down too long, need to stretch my legs.”
And sure enough, after a few steps, his movements are more fluent. He does a few surreptitious stretches, but with Stede watching him like a hawk they don’t go unnoticed.
“How’s everything on deck?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. You could come take a look?”
“So everything’s shit as usual”, Izzy grumbles, and walks out, Stede following without word. He seems well enough now, with food inside him and the new bandages, but clearly he still feels weak - he struggles just a little bit with balance, leans on the walls a little too often. Not that he would ever admit it, and Stede isn’t sure if anyone else would notice since they probably wouldn’t be watching him so closely. Aside from Roach and Lucius, possibly.
The deck is sunny and warm. Izzy shields his eyes from the sudden brightness, and takes in the sight. Most of the crew is on deck, some of them working on their chores, others just spending time. Izzy clicks his tongue at them, and Stede sees the scowl fast forming on his face - he silences it before the litany of curses, insults and bossing around can start.
“Remember - you’re grateful none of them came to make fun of you. Actually they were all worried.” Well, perhaps not all of them, but the majority. Which isn’t a bad percentage, considering how badly Izzy has treated them all. Izzy scoffs, but does stay quiet, so Stede’s words must’ve counted for something.
Unsurprisingly, Lucius notices them first, as he’s sitting on a barrel close to the door.
“Izzy! You’re up already? I thought for sure you’d be bedridden for weeks!”
“It was nothing. Like I’d be laid up for just a scratch.”
Lucius sighs in relief, then gives Izzy a crooked smile. “So... you’re bragging about doing a bad job of stabbing yourself?”
Stede can’t help the grin and has to hide it behind his hand. Izzy is left floundering for an answer.
“Oh, fuck off, you know what I mean.”
“Not really. But I’m glad you’re okay. Stede wouldn’t tell us anything, and he even refused to let me in to see you -” he shoots a dirty look Stede’s way - ”so the only news we had came from Roach. I was worried sick, thinking you’d kick the bucket!”
Izzy looks at him in confusion for several seconds, then moves on to look at Stede in that same confusion.
“Told you”, Stede reminds him. Why exactly Izzy would be so perplexed by his friend being worried for his life is beyond him, but he doesn’t mind reminding Izzy about the people who care about him. Izzy dodges the statement, going back to something he’s more familiar with - complaining.
“Who the hell did the rigging? Fucking shitty work. And there’s rope all over the deck. Do I even want to see the gun deck?”
“Excuse you, the gun deck is in excellent condition!” Black Pete pipes up.
Jim looks on, annoyed, and says something to Oluwande, Buttons takes it all in stride, and Frenchie does his best to stay inconspicuous
“Jeez, not even 5 minutes back on duty and you’re already back on your bullshit”, Lucius half complains and half laughs. He slaps Izzy’s back, and clearly takes notice of how Izzy has to rebalance himself.
“Actually, he’s not back on duty yet”, Stede points out. “He’s still recovering, although making great progress. So -” a meaningful look at Izzy - “please carry on, as you were.”
“The ship has gone to shit -” Izzy starts, but Stede shushes him, and he actually does quiet down! He makes a theatrical sigh and backs up to the railing, trying to make it nonchalant, but both Stede and Lucius see it for what it really is.
“Should I get your cane?” Lucius asks quietly. Izzy rubs his forehead, but eventually nods. Lucius goes without another word.
After Lucius comes back with the cane, the two fall into conversation. Izzy seems content with this, so Stede falls behind and watches them make a slow round of the deck. It’s a nice sight - for both their sakes. Izzy having back some of his spunk, and Lucius able to relax now that he’s witnessed his friend is on the mend. Izzy is doing his very best to pretend the cane isn’t there, and Lucius walks on the cane side, possibly to aid in hiding the offensive aid in question. Needless to say, everyone sees it regardless. Stede appreciates them not commenting on it, even though a few do a double take. The vast majority of them haven’t even heard about the cane before - apparently Izzy had abandoned the cane after only a few days after getting his toe cut off. It must’ve still hurt like hell, throbbed horribly with every step, but he’d still insisted on appearing as unaffected as possible. The fact that Izzy deigns to look hurt in any way now speaks volumes about his state.
That’s why Stede feels somewhat guilty about thinking it’s a good look on him - a bit more dandy and gentlemanly. It adds a little something to his silver-haired charm. At least until the cursing stripped away most of it.
As the pair pass Stede to go below deck - presumably to the gun deck, as Stede catches a rather colorful snippet of the litany of weaponry Lucius could stick up his arse - he feels safe to leave them alone. Lucius has a much thicker skin and deeper well of patience than Stede, and he’s listening the tirade with an amused smirk. He will later give Izzy a dose of his own medicine.
Stede goes looking for Ed - they need to talk about what to do with Izzy now that the immediate danger has passed.
Stede makes a full round of the ship, not finding Ed, until he gives up and goes back the their cabin, not happy that they’ll have to postpone talking about Izzy. He’s surprised to find Ed in the cabin, dressed in his favorite banyan, laying in a cocoon of blankets on the bed.
While Stede wants to give him the space and time to deal with whatever’s going on with him, not finding a way to get Izzy back on track will be even more detrimental to both than prodding at Ed’s fresh wounds.
So he get’s Ed’s hairbrush - best to butter him up a bit first, to ease the sting that would soon come.
Wordlessly, they enjoy the brushing, but Ed doesn't do his usual near-purring. He must know what's about to happen.
“Darling”, Stede begins tentatively, brush still smoothing out Ed's hair. It's coarse - Stede should find some oils next they're in port, his own hair is also getting rough with all the salt air.
“Yeah, love?” is the answer, equally hesitant.
“We need to make Izzy feel useful”, Stede says. Even he, who avoids Izzy at every opportunity, has noticed that the man doesn’t know how to handle idleness. If they want to make Izzy feel better, they need to give him a job.
Ed looks ashamed, and before Stede can stop him from putting himself down even further, Ed asks in a worried tone: “Do you think we should make him fist mate again?”
“No, the crew wouldn’t accept that. He treated them rather horribly I’ve heard. And seen actually.”
He likes to think Izzy treated his own crew better than the crew of his one-sided nemesis, but he wouldn’t bet on it. He also likes to think Ed would’ve stopped him from being truly horrible, but he wouldn’t bet on that, either.
“Well he’s been complaining about the rigging the whole time. Think we could work something out with that?”
That makes a lot of sense, actually. Handling the rigging is a complicated job, and no one on board has that much experience with it - Buttons has mostly worked with gaff rigs, which is apparently different from whatever the Revenge has, don’t ask Stede, he just owns the ship - so he isn’t too much help. The fact that Izzy knows to complain about the rigging suggests he knows what’s wrong with it and could do it better.
“His first words after getting on deck today was to complain about the rigging.”
“He’s gotta still be nimble enough to climb up and down ropes. I mean I haven’t seen him do it in years but you’ve seen how he moves, right?” Ed looks sheepish as he says this. Stede has a feeling he knows why - the toe. To be honest, Stede sometimes forgets about it, since it doesn’t seem to have affected Izzy’s walking. And he wouldn’t even be stepping with his toes on rope ladders up in the rigging. Right? Stede takes a moment to think of how he climbs a ladder - no, no toes in play. Should be fine. But Ed looks so worried so maybe it isn’t? He knows infinitely more about ship maintenance than Stede does.
“Do you think he - uhm, his feet might be clumsier these days”, Stede eventually says, hoping Ed will make the decision for him. He must know better. “Would it be dangerous?”
A complicated look passes on Ed’s face, as always when the toe comes up. It’s a complicated subject for all parties.
“We could really use a rigger”, Stede says carefully. Ed will say if Izzy isn’t suitable, and suggest someone else, surely. “She’s not moving half as nimbly as she could if the sails and ropes were up properly.”
“They’re called lines, actually. And Iz should do fine.” A worried pause. “If he doesn’t think it’s beneath him. He’s been an officer for a long time.”
“I have a feeling he’ll think it’s better than doing nothing.” But it’s yet another thing he wouldn’t bet on.
Stede gives Ed a reassuring smile, and they start hashing out the details - how to break the news both to the crew and Izzy himself, what exactly Izzy’s duties would entail, what he would and would not be allowed, et cetera. They reach an understanding soon enough, Ed’s mood rising quickly, until he’s well enough to decide a roll in the hay is just what they need to celebrate this new development. They don’t emerge from the captains’ cabin until after dinnertime, take a leisurely stroll around deck, then go to find Izzy.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Izzy has already moved back to his own cabin. While it’s nice that it means Stede gets to sleep with Ed again, he can’t help but be worried about... relapses, or something. He would’ve preferred Izzy staying under his watch for one more night, at least. Especially considering the proposal he’s about to hear.
“I hope we didn’t interrupt anything”, Stede apologizes, as it seems Izzy was in the middle of writing something. Logs, perhaps, or a journal. After hearing that the vast majority of pirates were illiterate, including most of his own crew, Stede had been surprised to hear that Izzy was not only literate, but fluent, even. Though he apparently doesn’t much care for prose or poetry.
“Captain’s privilege”, Izzy grunts sarcastically. “So. You come to run your mouth about being sorry and shit again?”
Ugh, why does he have to be so crude?
“Actually, Izzy, I’ve been thinking and talking with Ed... about your duties.” This is a serious gambit - if he takes it badly, there’s little stopping him from making absolutely certain nothing will save his life this time. But if he sees it as a promotion from having no actual position in the hierarchy, then he might see it as a reason to really live again and start working his way back up the ranks.
Ed clears his throat, and starts carefully. “Since we already have a first mate -” of a sorts anyway, since Stede doesn’t believe in rigid hierarchies and everyone is of less or more equal rank. It’s just that Buttons has easily the most experience, so he was the natural choice. “- but none of us is an expert at rigging, like you -” just a bit of flattery, there, even Stede knows Izzy isn’t an actual expert even if he is more of an expert than anyone else, even Ed. “- we were hoping you could take over as the rigger?” It’s not a position that holds any power, which is why this is such a dangerous proposal, and Izzy does look a bit sour.
Maybe that’s why Ed starts improvising, because he certainly hadn’t cleared the next part with Stede. “Or you could train someone else how to do it properly? You could probably train us in all sorts of tasks, to be honest. Swordfighting, for example! I know many of could use lessons.” He throws an apologetic look at Stede. No hard feelings, Stede knows he’s still bad at dealing with anything sharp.
“So you basically want me to be your errand boy, fixing whatever these useless shits do wrong”, Izzy frowns, of course taking it badly. Or even choosing to take it badly. Because why would Stede ever have thought he would take an olive branch in the way it was meant?
“You’d be teaching them so it wouldn’t be done badly in the first place”, Stede corrects. “But mostly we want a rigger. And a sword instructor, if you’re so inclined.”
Izzy scoffs confrontationally. “It’ll take years whipping these idiots into shape. And the rigging isn’t an easy job, which is why it’s always done so shit. I’ve basically been the rigger this whole time already.”
“But would you be willing to do it officially?” Stede pushes.
A sniff that pretends to be indifferent, but in context it sounds grateful.
“I’ll think about it.” A heavy silence. “Who’s gonna make sure everything else is up to snuff, then?”
Ed’s face spreads into a smile, and he ruffles Izzy’s hair. He shoos the hand away immediately, but Stede can see the smile he tries to hide.
“That would be all of us, together.” Stede knows to expect the sarcastic scoff and eye-roll, so he’s not overly offended. Ed gives Izzy a noogie, causing a short struggle. “We all learn from each other, and we talk things through to solve our problems. We’ll be expecting you to take part in group activities, as well. They build team spirit.”
“The captain isn’t supposed to be part of the team”, Izzy whines.
“Preposterous! The captain is as much part of the crew as the rest!”
“As is the rigger”, Ed says pointedly, and Izzy wilts a little.
“I draw the line at hugging. And don’t expect me to fucking cry about feelings and shit. Fucking pansies, the lot of you.”
“Ed likes the talk circles”, Stede reminds him, and predictably Izzy deflects it with an It’s different.
Ed stays to talk through the specifics with Izzy, as they had agreed, and Stede goes to announce the news and begin storytime. There’s nervous whispering among the crew before he can even clear his throat, but it quiets quickly as he starts talking.
“As some of you may have noticed, Mr. Hands has made a full recovery and will be returning to duty tomorrow. He has agreed to take over as the rigger, and will be teaching some of you the ropes, so to speak.” No one even chuckles at his pun. Stede hopes it ‘s only because everyone is too distracted by the news, and not because of their vocabular shortcomings. “This does not mean he has any authority to boss any of you around, or to berate anyone of doing a bad job, so if you encounter such behavior, please report it to either me or Ed right away. Remember - we have a zero-tolerance on bullying on this ship.”
His rehearsed speech goes well, now he can only hope Izzy’s re-introduction to the crew will go equally well. He’s already shown progress with Stede, so he’s fairly confident they will have only some trouble. Asking for none would be too much. And then there’s the fact of Izzy having to adapt to a non-hierarchical power structure on top of learning how to play nice.
There was some murmuring among the crew, and one clear objection of Never stopped him from bullying us before, but the chatter dies down pretty quickly when Stede raises his hand, asking for silence. “Now, I expect he will be quite prickly for a while, but I ask you all to be patient with him. He’s been having a hard time, and showing kindness will doubtless help with acclimating to his new position.”
“The same way he showed kindness to us?” a certain someone quips, and no, Stede will not providing their name. Complaints are handled in confidentiality on his ship.
“I understand some of us -” well that’s a bit of understatement, isn’t it. “- most of us -” still not quite the truth. “- all of us have had our grievances and troubles with him, but I assure you, he isn’t incapable of change.”
“Seconded!” Lucius helpfully announces, and Black Pete agrees with a small, begrudging nod of his head.
“Thank you, I’m sure he would appreciate your support. And did we not support Jim when they turned out to be what they claimed? And even more so, haven’t we all forgiven Ed for all he did to us?”
Some more murmuring, and one loud dissent of I haven’t! Ed’s charming and repentant enough to have been accepted back into the crew fairly quickly even after the horrible way he treated everyone, but clearly some still hold resentment.
After a while, Oluwande speaks up. “If he behaves himself, then we have no problem having him as part of the crew. But if he keeps acting like an asshole then we’ll hold you accountable for punishing him. No more letting him get away with anything just because Ed has history with him.”
Ed might have been crueler to Izzy than anyone else during the Kraken period as they’ve come to call it, but after the attempted suicide he would find it extremely hard to hurt Izzy in any way. Stede hopes this won’t prevent him from using stern words if warranted.
“I would expect nothing less”, Stede assures them all, sounding more sure than he feels. He has a duty to these people, after all, even if he has a history of folding under mean words. And Izzy is very good at mean words. “We only ask that you give him a chance and treat him fairly. And naturally we will require the same of him.”
#pivot points#fan fiction#our flag means fanfic#ofmd#steddyhands#izzy hands#blackbeard#stede bonnet#linssifanfiction#wiptale
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Memoir Of A Moment
AO3
I guess the good thing about being an idiot and DELETING ALL YOUR FILES is that you're forced to go through your handwritten notebooks and rediscovering stuff you never fleshed out on the computer.
I love Mononoke, the art style is wonderful and the stories tickle me just right. I would've loved to write a casefic, but I just couldn't come up with a good mononoke, and also I'm terrible at writing action and mystique, so I never finished it - and now I think that even incomplete, it could work as a Missed Opportunity type of story. Just imagine the adventure Kayo could've had if she stayed!
--
Figured it would be raining on the one day she was able to check out Harajuku. She had been planning this trip for almost a year, and took it well before rainy season for this exact reason! Now there were only a lousy few people on the streets, and barely any of them worth photographing! And with such shitty lighting the photos would’ve turned out terrible anyways. Why had she even bothered leaving home? She’d seen the forecast...
Well, at least the trip wasn’t a complete failure. Despite the bad weather, some scattered groups and inidividuals were still around, and let Kayo take pictures. The gothic lolitas had been largely unbothered by the rain under their black, lacy umbrellas and safe from the puddles with their high platform shoes. The small group of ganguros had tried not to look bothered, not very successfully though... With their shorts and miniskirts you could see the goosebumps from the cold right away. Kayo had even seen a few angura kei girls, smartly dressed in kimonos to shield them from the chill. The cafes also let her take photos inside, as long as she also bought something - she was starting to feel ill from all the tea she'd been forced to consume and the excorbitant prices those places charged for absolutely everything.
Who knew when she’d be able to make a more successful trip? With her financial situation, it had been hard enough to scrounge up the funds and free time even for this one-day trip. In the morning, it would be back to work, back to scrolling through fashion blogs and online stores. Never contributing to those blogs or buying anything from those stores.
-o-
As midnight approached, Kayo finally decided it wasn’t worth the effort to keep looking for more subjects - she only had a few hours before her early morning train back home, and she needed the sleep more than she wanted the photos. Sighing, she put away her camera - her most prized possession, a genuine professional-grade DSLR, bought used from a relative who ran a photography studio - and headed for the capsule hotel. Leaving behind the chic, neon-lit fashion highway felt like such an appropriate metaphor for Kayo’s life - ever the visitor in such splendid places, never allowed to stay for longer than a few hours. The dim side streets were much more her place, getting dingier and smellier the further she walked.
Only some hundreds of meters from the hotel, Kayo stopped. Ahead of her stood someone with a large wooden backpack, and a colorful haori. Perhaps she had found another subject, after all! Must’ve been making their way back home from Harajuku, like her, another sorely disappointed fashion fan. Not old-school, with such unorthodox patterns and garish color combos, but clearly taking inspiration from traditional garments. A paper umbrella and geta, paired with what might have been an exceptionally long heko obi, since the ends were long enough to dangle past the knees. Kayo didn’t know that much about obi knots, not being all that into kimono herself, but she knew the backpack had to digging the knot uncomfortably into the person’s back. The only style she ever wore was karuta musubi because it was so easy and flat.
Digging out her camera again, she took one candid photo - only one, that she would ask permission to keep - because the composition of the figure standing in the middle, faintly haloed by the rain and streetlights, the street stretching out behind him, well... it was just too photogenic to pass up. The shot even turned out well despite the dismal lighting, and some color correction on photoshop would fix the values. She would send a printed copy to her subject, if they wanted.
“Excuse me!” she called out and started jogging up to her target. They must’ve been wearing earphones, not hearing her, since they didn’t turn around. Well, at least they stayed still - a man, it turned out, and a beautiful one at that. But not wearing earphones, and talking to himself silently - so, a weirdo. But definitely a beautiful weirdo. A cosplayer, surely, from the markings on his face and the pointed ears. Very good quality prosthetics, looked completely real. The blond wig was just as good, a naturally plucked hairline and very fine mesh to hide the edges perfectly. This person had a lot of time and made good money. Also pale, flawless skin, and long, elegant fingers, and mesmerizing blue eyes. They didn’t even look like colored contacts, the look in them wasn’t uncomfortably staring at you with pinprick pupils. It might have even been his natural eye color. Half Japanese? If that was the case, then the hair might have been real, as well. His nose also suggested non-asian heritage, as long and pointy as his ears.
It felt like Kayo had been taking in the stranger’s appearance for minutes, him never acknowledging her until he finished his silent monologue. Only his eyes turned to look at her, a small, knowing smile on his already makeup-smiling lips.
“Good evening.”
His voice was pleasingly low and steady, his speech calm and slow. He kept looking at Kayo from the corner of his eye. The markings under his eye and on his nose intrigued Kayo, what was the story behind the character’s design? And the lavender smile, not something Kayo remembered seeing on any other -
“Ah - good evening!”
How rude, she had just kept staring! Even if he was dressed to be stared at! So embarrassing, getting caught up in her thoughts! Just because someone looked good and strange was no excuse for bad manners. Thankfully the man did not seem to mind, just kept smiling faintly, and slowly lowered his eyes to the camera Kayo was still holding tightly in her hands.
“You are a photographer now?” he asked, not really making it sound like a question, and the now part bothering Kayo. She didn’t think they had ever met before, she was sure she would remember eyes like his even if his appearance otherwise had changed completely.
“Well, yes, not professionally - I came to take photos, but the weather - could I take your picture? Fashion is a hobby of mine.”
“That never changes.”
Kayo was almost regretting talking to the guy, he might have been high. He was acting weirdly enough, and his halting speech wasn’t exactly helping dispel the thought, either. It was oddly hypnotic though, with his quiet voice you had to stop and listen, and with the slow rhythm you had to keep listening, and with the weird pauses mixed in he sounded otherworldly.
“A photo in exchange for a favor, perhaps?”
He was still calm, the half-lidded gaze not threatening in the least, but no matter how unassuming a guy looked, Kayo was not stupid enough to agree without knowing the terms. She steeled her face, trying to appear as someone you couldn’t bend.
“Depends on the favor. I’m not desperate so don’t even dream of anything pervy!”
The man chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling in amusement. He finally turned to face Kayo directly.
“Some things do change”, he commented cryptically. Kayo decided not to question it, the guy was clearly either on drugs or having a psychosis. Why did he keep thinking he knew Kayo? Maybe she resembled someone he did know, or used to know?
He lifted a finger, pointing with it’s sharp claw to an alley. “Can you see anyone on that street?”
A quick look revealed the two of them were alone, everyone else having opted for the better-lit main streets, and Kayo was starting to feel more nervous. Not that the guy was looking or acting any more threatening, but being alone with a male junkie on a deserted street in the middle of the night tends to make a girl jumpy.
“No, seems empty to me”, she said in a confident tone, like she wasn’t even thinking of the possibility of being assaulted. A strong girl like her? No one would attack her!
The stranger made a non-committal noise, and his eyes turned more serious. He looked at the alley thoughtfully. “A most troublesome form, indeed. I wonder, why do some see it while others don’t.”
“Was that the favor? Can I take that photo now?”
The amused smile came back.
“Take as many as you like. But I must keep working, do not disturb the scales.” And with a small gesture of his finger, a drawer in the backpack slid open and something flew out.
Okay, it was official - Kayo had gone nuts. First going on this trip even knowing it would fail, then talking to a total stranger in an empty street at night, then not walking away when it turned out the guy was on drugs. Now her madness had extended to seeing hallucinations.
At least the hallucination was polite - a metal thingamajig that looked like an art deco butterfly bowed to her before continuing on its way further down the abandoned alley. Its friends soon followed, a veritable swarm of metal butterflies - scales, the man had called them. Kayo couldn’t possibly say what they measured, or how.
By the time she shook off her stupor, odd paper charms had also appeared on the walls out of nowhere. A staticky hum filled the hair, raising the hairs on Kayo. Some form of electricity, maybe.
“Kayo-san, is it? You came here to take photos, and your time is limited.”
A cold wave washed over Kayo. She knew for a fact they had never met in their lives, and there was no way he could know her name. They had come across each other by pure accident... It just wasn’t possible...
“Do you know me from somewhere?” she asked, stupefied, heart skipping beats here and there. This was so odd, scary, and yet she was not nearly as scared as she felt she should be.
“We know each other from several places, but we have never met before.”
“How does that even make sense! What the hell do you mean by that? Which one us has gone crazy here, I don’t understand anything anymore...”
But even so, she lifted her camera and started taking pictures. Of the man, of the scales, of the empty alley. She didn’t even care about angles, lighting, composition, she just pressed the shutter. She ended up with nearly a hundred photos, majority of them incomprehensible, before the man directed her to keep going on her way. She had obeyed without question - the atmosphere had gotten oppressive, the feeling of a storm encroaching.
-o-
All her life, Kayo often thought back to that night. It felt unreal, but the photos were undeniable evidence of the opposite. Sometimes she thought she really had experienced some sort of short-lived psychosis, but mostly she had no idea what to think of the event - of the one time something strange happened in her life, something intriguing. She only talked about it to someone twice on her life - once to her husband, and once to her daughter. She did eventually develop one of the photos into a print - the one she had taken first. The nameless man, standing alone on an empty street, rain streaking the lens. A beatiful picture, a strange memory, and a lifelong regret.
She should have stayed.
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The Unexciting Comfortableness
AO3
I started a version of this fic back before When Villains Rise was published, and never finished it. Now that the Webtoon has reached my favorite part, I got the inspiration to finish it - and scrapped everything but the basic premise of talking-about-sex. I'm a shipper at heart, but I also like the ambiguous relationship Nita and Kovit have at the end of the series, so I decided to embrace it. Cuddling and semi-platonic kissing ensued.
--
Sometimes, maybe after a particularly interesting lecture, or when she felt a strong surge of determination, or just when words weren’t enough, Nita would kiss Kovit. Sometimes, perhaps when he was feeling particularly frustrated about having to play nice, or when memories of his childhood came to the surface, or just when he was having a good day, Kovit would kiss Nita.
They still had little practice interacting with other people, and couldn’t say what exactly they felt towards each other -and that was fine with them. They suspected it wasn’t quite friendship, but neither was it really romantic. They fit together naturally enough without a clear definition, and that was enough. Nita, for her part at least, could say for certain Kovit was the most important person in her life. The only one she looked forward to seeing every day, the only one she cared to touch. She could withstand other people touching her, briefly and by accident, but for her, there was only one person in the world she would want touching her.
Her classmates were two people she would never be able to understand.
“It was just one time!” the man groaned. This was the third time, as far as Nita was aware, that it had been ‘just one time’.
She seriously hoped the couple would stop airing out their grievances in public.
“And Claire?! Was she just one time also?! At least Derek and Ashley were actually just one time!” the woman shrieked.
And so the argument went on. Nita quietly packed up her things, genuinely baffled by the amount of people those two had slept with, and kept sleeping with, endangering the relationship they supposedly cared so much about. Or maybe the flashy engagement rings had just been an apology from one party to the other. Still, they did at least tolerate each other enough to have stayed together the whole year Nita had had the displeasure of knowing them. One other classmate, who had been involved in the drama, had snidely claimed it was purely because the sex was great.
What a strange thing sexual pleasure apparently was. Able to tie together two people who hated each other’s guts. Made powerful men and women throw their careers in jeopardy, spend their fortunes for those fleeting moments, ruining their marriages for those precious ‘just one time’s that couldn’t possibly live up to the hype.
Oh, Nita could admit being curious, and maybe willing to try it sometime, but she knew that the act merely released some chemicals that tricked the brain into wanting to continue the species. She knew all about those chemicals - she could, and even had, produced those very chemicals in her own body, and knew for a fact they would never be enough for her to risk being late to class, never mind threaten her whole education! Ridiculous. It couldn’t even just be a human thing - just as many unnaturals had been involved in sex scandals as humans. Living beings were weird.
Sometimes, maybe after a particularly interesting lecture, or when she felt a strong surge of determination, or just when words weren’t enough, Nita would kiss Kovit - this time she kissed him because she was tired after a long day, because she wanted to thank him, because she was curious about how it would feel.
Pleasant. Familiar. Unexciting. Very different from the few kisses they had shared before their “new life”. Didn’t leave her yearning for another right after.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked, taking note of Kovit’s ashy skin and dull hair. He had gone without a proper meal for too long, but with the second trial still ongoing he didn’t have many opportunities to go out and find one. Too many watchful eyes.
“Hot pockets.”
“Very healthy.”
Kovit rolled his eyes. Nita agreed whole-heartedly - at least they were tasty, and with Nita being the only one able to earn an income and their busy schedules they couldn’t exactly afford real food. Kovit lifted his knees to make space for Nita on the couch, and she leaned on them. Studying his face, while he studied his phone. She lowered her head to rest her jaw against the knees, circled her arms around his legs. He looked very tired. Dry lips, irritated eyes, dark bags.
“You should go visit the emergency room.”
“I hate going to the emergency room”, Kovit grumbled.
“More than you hate me nagging you about eating properly? Until you can stop acting like a good boy that’s your best option. I’ll go with you, for company.” He couldn’t wait for the day he himself would be sending people to the emergency room - or more often the morgue - and this was the only comfort she could offer in these trying times.
“Tomorrow, maybe”, he conceded, sighing and putting away his phone, picking up Nita’s hand in its stead, playing with her fingers. “Need help with schoolwork?”
“Nah, I can handle it.” While college hadn’t been the dreamland she had always pictured, she really liked it. She was doing well, even under the enormous pressure of school, Adair’s mentoring, work, constant surveillance, paparazzis, and witnessing in court. At least the black market attacks had died down, all those eyes on her making it very difficult to attack and stay under the radar of law enforcement. That, and the threat of cohabiting with a zannie - even one who publicly presented as safe.
She would’ve liked to see Tony and Anna try to handle all that - or maybe she actually would’ve, it might have put things into perspective for them. “ What I can’t handle is people. People are stupid.”
Kovit snickered and flashed an evil grin. “Need to get rid of someone?”
It was testament to his good looks that even like this, tired to the bone and smirking like a cartoon villain he still managed to be hot.
“Once you have free reign of the place, maybe”, Nita smirked in response, not serious, and she knew Kovit could tell. “They keep fighting about their relationship troubles in public. It’s so annoying.”
“I feel you”, Kovit said and rolled his eyes. “The judge is going through a divorce and it’s totally clouding his judgement.” Nita already knew that, the lawyer Fabricio had hired for Kovit was working on getting a mistrial somehow on those grounds. He was a confident fellow, and still high on his success with getting Kovit out of a jail sentence in the previous trial, the one regarding his crimes in the States. Considering those had involved a decade’s worth of murder and torture, his Canadian crimes should be a cakewalk.
He parted his legs to pull Nita down on his chest, twisting a strand of her hair between his fingers, pulling the curl tight and then letting it bounce back. She should get a trim, the ends were splitting something bad.
“They both keep cheating on each other and screaming about it at school”, Nita sighed, settling down comfortably. “Is sex really so good that you need to keep having it and then make a scene in public?”
Kovit shrugged, with some difficulty since Nita’s head was resting on his shoulder. “For some people, I guess.”
“I hope they never procreate, for the
sake of humanity”, she groaned into Kovit’s neck.
The thought plagued Nita’s mind the whole evening. Could sex really be that good? She had a hard time imagining it to be true, but maybe she shouldn’t knock it ‘til she tried it. A lot of movies seemed to think so, at least. And politicians, and celebrities, and Tony and Anna. It was easy to imagine fictional media blowing it out of proportion just for the sake of storytelling, but if real people kept doing it then maybe there was a grain of truth to it. After all, Nita had never known how amazing sesame candy was until she had it.
She didn’t find it unpleasant to imagine herself having sex with Kovit. She didn’t crave it or anything, but she thought it might be nice. Since she did like having him close, kissing him, and sleeping next to him. Maybe it would just be an escalation of those actions. Unless it was like cake, where the first slice is great and leaves you wanting more, but then after three slices you feel sick and swear off sugar for a week.
“Do you think you could ever have sex?”
“Huh?”
Nita didn’t blame Kovit for his confusion, it had come out of nowhere and he was still half-asleep.
“You said you never felt the urge, but would you try if I wanted it? With your fingers, maybe, if you can’t get an erection?”
“Uh... Do... do you want it? Pretty sudden, don’t you think?”
There was no panic in his voice, but there was discomfort. Nita could also feel his pulse picking up, her ear against his chest. He stayed still, though, holding her in his embrace, like he did most nights.
“I’m not sure, honestly. It’s just been on my mind today. I’m ovulating, maybe that’s why.” Ovulation had never had this effect on her before, so that was an unlikely explanation. But it was the only one she could think of. “I think you’re attractive, and I like being close with you. I might be curious. I know that I want to try it someday.”
“Thanks for the compliment”, Kovit said, and Nita heard the smirk in his voice, even if his pulse stayed elevated. He didn’t continue, so Nita had to prompt him - well, maybe not had to, since this conversation wasn’t an urgent one, but she would’ve liked an answer. So she sat up and looked him in the eye.
“So what do you think of me?”
Breasts in full display since it was too hot for pajamas. Perhaps not what you’d call big, but Nita thought they were nice enough. Working on her muscles had given her body definition, and she didn’t have excess fat anywhere. She didn’t look like an instagram model, but she knew that objectively speaking, she was attractive. Sexy, just like Kovit was.
“Nita, you’re pretty and hot but - my body missed the memo, remember? I just never got it, the feeling. We could be - doing things and I’d just be thinking about, I don’t know. Pizza?”
“No worries, I’m not offended. If you can’t, there’s really nothing we can do about it”, she shrugged, settling comfortably back in his arms, curiosity sated and mind ready to sleep.
Kovit didn’t feel the same, evidently, as he broke the silence after a while.
“It’s not just that”, he said quietly. “It’s not - it’s not that I’m physically unable to, I mean, I get morning wood sometimes. So clearly the parts work, just on their own schedule.”
“I knew that already. We’ve been sleeping next to each other for two years.”
“Wha - Nita, are you saying you’ve been looking?”
She stared at him like was dumb. She was sure he must’ve felt her being damp a few times, given how entangled they often got. It would’ve been weirder if she had never felt his dick against her thigh.
“I’m saying we’re cuddlers. You have your hand on my boob more often than not.”
“Really? Sorry.”
“It feels kind of nice, actually.”
“Oh.”
A moment of silence, awkward from Kovit’s side. “Anyway, we’re getting off topic. I’ve heard - that it hurts the first time. For the woman.”
Ah, right. That would be breaking two of his rules at once. He’d started reworking them before the trials started, and had been done with updating them by the time the first trial was done. Still, many of them had stayed untouched, among them the two related to the
discussion at hand - eating the pain of someone he knew, and eating sexual pain.
“That’s mostly a myth, anyway. If she’s properly aroused and lubricated, it won’t hurt. Usually it’s just that she’s nervous, and the man doesn’t care or know enough to prepare her.”
Nita didn’t think she cared enough about social norms to get nervous about such things. If it was Kovit, she could trust everything to be fine. He wouldn’t laugh at her, or use her as a glorified sex toy, or ditch her afterwards. He would care about her pleasure, and he wouldn’t pretend to know better, so he would follow her instructions.
If only Nita knew what instructions to give. She wasn’t exactly an expert in sexual arousal, herself - it just kind of happened sometimes, and after a few minutes it would fade on it’s own. She didn’t know how to use her fingers to keep herself interested, and to be honest, learning how to wasn’t high on her list of priorities. This felt much nicer - pressing herself to Kovit’s side, hearing his heartbeat, feeling his arm around her. She breathed deep, drawing in his scent, more comforting than the blankets.
It was only when Kovit started shifting uncomfortably, failing to subtly distance himself, that Nita understood he was reading the situation completely different from her.
“I’m not coming onto you, don’t worry. Just trying to fall asleep.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief, and wrapped his arm around Nita’s waist. Just the way they both liked it.
#the unexciting comfortableness#fan fiction#Market Of Monsters#Not Even Bones#linssifanfiction#WIPtale#Anita Sanches#Kovit Sangwaraporn
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The Place Between Here And There - Chapter 10: ...And Happiness In Private Life(cont'd)
Masterpost AO3
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 9(cont'd)
I've finally updated the status of the fic to ABANDONED, I was going to do that way earlier but I didn't want to admit defeat, and then I just kind of forgot... Time really starts flying by as you get older, it totally doesn't feel like 2 years passed by^^' I'm still writing scenes for later on in the fic, and I've had the general outline of the story planned for a long time, but I haven't been able to write complete chapters for any of my projects for over a year now, it's very annoying.
Anyway, this is the rest of chapter 9, not my best work but at least I like the part with Toris. He's noticed Ivan's small efforts of being nicer and wants to encourage them.
Thanks for everyone who read this story and sorry for not being able to bring it to conclusion for all of you who were invested!
-
Ivan sent Fredya home until Wednesday – claiming it was so he could concentrate on work, but he was sure Fredya could tell he was just fretting about the upcoming meeting. Ivan was terrified Katyushka would get carried away, and that was closer to certainty rather than possibility, and then Fredya would walk out of his life. He had known from the start that the time would come sooner or later, but he had much hoped it would fall on the later end of the spectrum. This was a wholly different case from that of his first girlfriend - the one he had been with all of three days before Katyusha started talking about weddings. She had left him the next day, not surprisingly, and he hadn’t really cared one way or the other - she had been far too practical to occupy his thoughts when she wasn’t in sight. But if Fredya left as suddenly, and he was certainly impulsive enough to do so on the spot, then... Obviously it still wouldn’t be the end of the world,of course it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, losing a home for example would be far worse than losing a companion, it really wasn’t that big of an issue when you thought about it – there was no reason to lose what little will to live Ivan had left over something that insignificant. No reason.
So Ivan would not worry about it – he slammed the door on the thought, and worked hard to put all his concentration on his notes. He had not yet studied Rogers enough, his files on the computer had sat abandoned for too long. Opening his folder, going over the routes again, verifying time codes, Ivan fell to a comfortable, familiar routine, cup of tea beside him growing cold. Rogers didn’t have much of a routine, which made observing him a challenge and data collecting a thrill. At least this was an activity that Ivan could still lose himself in despite whatever non-turmoil was boiling in his gut. Comparing coordinates, discovering overlaps, identifying patterns, data was something Ivan was good at. Data had no emotions, so it was easy to handle. Data didn’t mind his extracurriculars, didn’t judge him for his jealousy, didn’t snoop into his past.
Though it also didn’t text him at 3 am to tell him about a silly dream it had. Even less it cared about whether he was coming home for the night or not. It not wanting to watch brainless, cliched superhero should have been a positive, but in the dark, the brain gets sentimental. Ivan suddenly wished he had a file on Fredya. Ivan certainly had enough data on him, though so far it was all in his brain and a few lines in his notebooks. One photo on his phone, a selfie Fredya had sent some weeks ago. It was taken with one of those filter things, Ivan wasn’t familiar with the apps so he couldn’t tell if it was instagram or snappychat or whatever others there were. Fredya had cartoon glasses on his nose, on top of his real-life glasses. He was doing a victory sign, and there was a badly drawn pink heart floating in the lower left corner, not anchored into anything.
The composition of the photo was bad. A large dead space occupied the top left, a pile of dirty clothes was poking into the frame from the bottom right. The lighting was scarcely better, the only diffuser was the dust inside the light fixture. Fredya’s artistic ability was nil, though he did make for an attractive subject, harsh shadows and all. It would be nice to have proper photo of him, before he got out of reach. With a reference to guide him, it might be possible. Ivan quickly scanned his bedroom for inspiration.
Perhaps it was too much effort for 2 a.m., but Ivan rather liked the end result. The handful of stars drawn on the wall to form a suggestion of a halo – however wrong it looked on Ivan – and hands posed to form a heart on the chest, and some minor lighting adjustments on photoshop, he thought it near perfectly captured how Ivan saw Fredya. Bright, innocent, center of the universe, unashamed of his affections. Fredya wouldn’t put as much effort in to it, even if he did take his own version of the photo as Ivan had requested, but that was also good. It wasn’t in Fredya’s nature to try too hard at something he didn’t feel like understanding - such as art other than of the moving pictures variety. Together, the photos formed a piece – the fantasy and the reality. It was a commentary on expectations.
Fredya may or may not look at the photo when he inevitably got up to go the bathroom sometime soon, but he wouldn’t take his own until afternoon if ever, so Ivan finally went to bed. He only had a few hours before his shift started.
-_-_-_-_-
Fredya had sent an emoji Ivan didn’t understand the meaning as response to the photo, followed by hearts and something that seemed to be an abbreviation, Ivan didn’t research the meaning. It likely wasn’t important.
Ivan got coffees for everyone again, and Amanda gave him a incredulous look. It was getting suspicious, Ivan acting nice. He should dial down on the social interactions for the next few days.
It would be good practice for when Fredya left him, anyway.
“Oh, thank you for going through the trouble”, Toris commented smiling. Ivan studied the smile, trying to map out proportions and gauge timings, but again he failed to replicate the gesture. It kept coming out as sarcastic.
He would prefer if both would just shut up and their coffees without scrutinizing his intentions. Let a man act civil to fellow humans beings in peace.
“If everyone is done sitting around, we need someone to go interview Fowler’s parishioners.”
Predictably, Amanda volunteered for the task. That left Ivan and Toris at the office, reading through statements, comparing alibis and viewing security footage, the same draining and pointless sinkhole of never-ending choppy black-and-white footage that glared a print of the screen in your soul, so that in the end when you lost everything else to dementia and cataracts, you would still see that stinging bright rectangle staring you in the eye, smirking gleefully, taking pleasure in removing everything one used to take joy in, and replacing itself in place of loved ones.
That metaphor ran a little wild at the end, there. In all fairness, it could be intriguing work when results could reasonably be expected, but everyone and their mother knew the only thing learned from these particular ones would be just how much time were wasting on them. Even Toris, being his professional self, couldn’t resist glancing at the clock every few minutes. He would of course try to make it inconspicuous, just letting his eyes dart to his wrist and back again, but it was noticeable enough when one was more concentrated on the coworker than the work. It came to Ivan’s mind that perhaps this was another aspect of Toris he should try to simulate, rather than keep studying, his work ethic was excellent. Surely that was something most people would approve of. And Fredya did often complain Ivan was rather lackadaisical about his work, he would appreciate the effort.
“How do stay so focused?” he asked sincerely. It was admirable, really, how Toris could throw himself at something so tedious.
Toris blinked at him in confusion, probably surprised to see his colleague who was supposed to working beside him blatantly ignoring said work.
“I’ve practiced it for years, there’s really no easy trick for it.”
“Ah. Shame.”
“I find that meditating regularly helps. And a good diet.” Well, that was already two things Ivan would not be trying out. “I could send you some articles if you’d like.”
“You should spend your free time on yourself. You work too much.”
Ivan went idly back to his files, not really feeling like working, but deciding to at least give it a shot, but feeling Toris’ curious eyes still fixed on him was too much of a distraction. After several seconds of silence he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. That was considerate of you.”
Ivan didn’t know how to answer that. It had been such a banal thing to say. Not warranting any response, really. Just a stock phrase, however true of some people and situations - such as this particular specimen. Toris must have heard the exact same statement hundreds of times in his life, knowing that he had an actual social circle who cared for him. Ivan was outside that circle, and people rarely care for the things outsiders say in matters like these - surely Toris should feel nothing particular about anything Ivan said. There was no need for him to smile like that, it was just embarrassing for a grown man to get so giddy about faint praise.
Ivan scoffed and went back to his work.
-_-_-_-_-
U maek a habot of drawning on walls huh
Outside of his brief childhood, Ivan had only ever drawn on walls three times - once in a drunk, misguided bout of creative frenzy, once to write his number on an intriguing man’s wall to annoy him, and once in an attempt to save a relic of happier times for the future.
Mostly when you are involved, it seems. Perhaps you are my muse for wall-related artistry
It had been a while since Ivan had drawn a portrait, but now might be the time to dust off that skill set. Ivan considered himself more of a photographer, but there was also something appealing about creating from scratch. Although... he would need to keep the portrait hidden, it would raise questions and pity later on. Ivan wished he was better at abstraction, that way it wouldn’t look like Fredya to anyone else, but his mind seemed to be too observational for it. It could only make sense of things that connected together in realistic ways, it couldn’t create anything out of feelings alone. Perhaps he simply didn’t have enough of them for that kind of art.
The dinner with Fredya and his sisters was a few hours away, but Ivan was already nervously ironing his clothes. He once again pleaded Katyusha to control her romantic impulses, and of course she promised, but Ivan knew that meant little. She had very bad self-control.
Tasha’s picking me up, we’ll meet you there
Natasha was coming? Nataliya was coming?! Fuck - what was she - this was bad news - why hadn’t she said - oh god, forget about Katyusha ruining everything if Nataliya Grigorova was coming!
She never mentioned wanting to come along
That sneaky little girl, she told me you said it was okay, haha
He would not survive this night sober.
He wanted to make a good impression. He did not want to be drunk when the only three people who mattered to him were all in the same room. He wanted to be fully conscious, to enjoy an outing with his family while being fully genuine, not just sedated into calmness.
But lord knew he would not survive the night sober.
-_-_-_-_-
Remembering the fit Fredya had thrown the last time Ivan had driven not-strictly-drunk-but-also-not-sober, he was glad that they had arranged beforehand for Fredya to pick him up. Because he was observant in the most inconvenient ways, Ivan had been sure Fredya would notice something was off, maybe a smell or the slow movements to counteract the unsteady hand-to-eye-coordination, but fortunately he was too stoked about meeting Ivan’s sisters again, officially, to notice Ivan’s oddly calm demeanor. He babbled excitedly the whole way there, and was halfway across the street before Ivan had even fully exited the car.
“Come on you snail! They’re gonna think we ditched them!”
“It’s only a few minutes away, you can afford to slow down”, Ivan chuckled. Fredya was so adorably excited, he resembled a puppy on a walk. “Being overeager is as bad as being late.”
“Beg to disagree! Pick up the pace slowpoke!”
Fredya sped up ahead, Ivan kept his leisurely pace. He missed the re-introductions, but it seemed like he hadn’t been needed for those at all - Fredya and Katyushka already looked like old friends, while Tasha regarded him with a haughty look, but nary a nasty word. She raised an eyebrow at Ivan, as if saying really, you chose this clown over me?, and he simply smiled pleasantly at her.
As they waited for their food to arrive, Fredya and Katyushka were unsurprisingly the only ones to hold up conversation. They had found a common ground in Star Trek - in that Katyusha had heard a lot about it, but had never watched an episode and was interested, and Fredya was an expert in all the series and films and liked talking about them. They went through the pacifistic ideas on the original series and how it sometimes contradicted itself on it, analyzing the casting choices for the remakes, some more things that Ivan had no interest in. When their plates were brought, the were in the midst of trying to speak klingon - the attempts of both of them were saddeningly hilarious. Or perhaps they were both surprisingly accurate. Ivan had no way of knowing, the franchise being something he had never taken an interest in. Of course he liked space, but he was more fact-oriented than a fan of fanciful fiction.
“You seem so young, it’s almost like you’re still in college”, Katyusha giggled, and Ivan could not agree more. The youthful energy Fredya exuded was refreshing, at least most of the time.
“Never went to college, I went straight to work from high school”, Fredya explained, crumbs flying. That was the one habit that Ivan never found charming in Fredya, it was just plain disgusting. Tasha made a small chortle of contempt that passed Fredya by.
“Our brother is a very intelligent man”, Tasha commented sharply, and Ivan knew exactly what she was going for – he had come to the same conclusion, himself. And truthfully, neither of them had been wrong - Fredya really was stupid.
“Oh, tell me about it”, the insulted man chuckled, not understanding what was being implied. Ivan would have liked being able to defend Fredya, but the thing was that Fredya was not intelligent – intellectually or socially, and attempting to claim otherwise would have been pointless. He might have been considered smart in some useless areas, such as entertainment trivia, but faint praise is just as damning as admitting faults.
Trivia! There was the opening Fredya needed to impress Tasha!
“He has a master’s degree in movie trivia and celebrity gossip, if nothing else. Just give an actor’s name and he will tell you every movie they have ever been in.”
“And not just that! I can also tell which year each movie came out!” Fredya exclaimed proudly. Ivan started with an easy one - Tom Cruise. Tasha did look reluctantly impressed as the titles and dates kept on coming, but refused to admit defeat. She tried her favorite actor, someone much more obscure.
“Ken Foree?”
“Hmm… The midnight man, 2017… Rift, dark side of the moon 2016, Cut slash pri- no wait, I think he was in Divine tragedies, 2015, Cut slash print 2012 –“
However, since
Tasha’s obsession with her brother refused to give way to respect for her perceived enemy, she realized that to claim victory she could simply ask about any non-American film star.
“Anastasia Zavorotnyuk.”
“Anastasia who?” Of course he pronounced the name the American way, but Ivan was still mildly impressed he could tell Анастасия and Anastasia were the same name.
“Zavorotnyuk.” Tasha allowed herself a malevolent smirk as Fredya racked his brain for the name in vain.
“A true expert wouldn’t limit himself only to Hollywood”, Tasha hmphed in triumphant malice, believing to have proved her superiority over him once and for all, despite not showing an ability to counter his. It seemed the point had only been to prove Fredya was not omniscient. In Ivan’s eyes, it was enough to be merely well-versed.
“He does hate subtitles to the point where I thought he might be illiterate”, Ivan joked.
“Hey, at least I speak the language of the country I live in!”
“Verily, my darling, thou speakest with the most biting of tongues. Shakespeare himself would envy your prowess.”
“The guy lived like hundreds of years ago, who gives a shit? Ivan Drago was famous in the 80’s.”
“Ivan can sound almost native when he tries”, Katyusha said, trying to diffuse the argument, not knowing the workings of their relationship well enough to tell it was all said in jest.
“I haven’t tried in years, I doubt I could anymore”, Ivan thought. He had tried training his accent away in high school, so he would sound less foreign in job interviews. Having a foreign name was bad enough in an application. He had never achieved a smooth, natural accent, he had to concentrate very hard which caused the words to come out very slowly and robotically, and still there was always a hint of foreign phonemes. Combined with his attempts to deepen his voice – an incredibly embarrassing failure on its own – had made him cringe, even back then. Tasha had encouraged him, of course, because in her mind anything and everything her dear brother did was the right decision.
Excluding taking romantic interest in someone other than her, of course.
The rest of the evening went by in much the same fashion. Fredya and Katyusha got along swimmingly, Tasha made snide remarks about Fredya, Ivan defended him in mean ways, Fredya played along. It was all very pleasant. Finally the staff started dropping hints that it was time to vacate the table, so they got up and parted ways. Katyusya was enchanted enough to not wait long enough to be out of earshot before starting to gush about her baby brother’s relationship, which made for a perfect opening for eavesdropping.
“Don’t you think Vanechka looks so much happier than usual?” Katyusya said, nearly clapping her hands in excitement.
“Idiocy might be contagious”, Tashenka grumbled in response.
“I never imagined he’d go for that type, but I guess it goes to show opposites really do attract!” Katyushka squeed.
“It’s only for the moment. That American moron will start getting on Vanya’s nerves soon”, Tashenka claimed, not sounding too confident herself. Ivan had expected that to happen as well, in the beginning.
“I hope he won’t, I think Alfred is good for Vanechka. He’s come out of his shell.”
What did she mean by that? As far as Ivan was aware, he had never been shy around his sisters. Or other people, for that matter.
“What’re you frowning about?” Fredya asked.
“I’m eavesdropping. Katyusha likes you, and Natasha doesn’t despise you.”
“Well that’s good news isn’t it?” Fredya smiled, and tried to hear the women. “Man, you got great hearing. I can’t hear them at all.”
Yes, it did take some practice to achieve Ivan’s level of spying on other people’s conversations. And by then they had gotten far enough that Ivan couldn’t hear then anymore either, actually.
“Your eardrums must be damaged from the all screeching you do.”
“You’re walking home, asshole.”
-
Tasha + Katyushka = affectionate nicknames for Nataliya and Yekaterina. Tashenka + Katyusya = one level more intimate. Ivan is being drunk and sentimental so at the end of the evening, the way he feels about his sisters is something like most people do when seeing tiny kittens.
Thanks again for reading! Maybe in like 10 years so I'll add a final "chapter" describing the rest of the plot, but I know myself and won't make any promises. I have some more snippets on the masterpost if anyone wants to frustrate themselves with a story that will never be finished.
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A Heart-shaped Whatever
Ch 2 AO3
I stopped reading Lookism ages ago, but I still love Vasco, and I started this fic after reading chapter 180 or something I think? It was supposed to be a multichapter about an asexual queer relationship but I only managed to finish the first scene, so that part unfortunately doesn’t show:/
--
Bumjae felt… stupid. Yes, that was the word. Not just stupid, though. He would say he was feeling equal parts stupid and excited. Stupid, because the answer to the question he was about to ask should have been obvious, and in hindsight probably would be, but excited because he was also sure the answer would not be the obvious one.He was going to ask his best friend if they were a couple.
Because, you know, it kind of felt like they were. Bumjae and Euntae had been close since they were kids, but since getting their first tattoos they’d become close in a different way. Like, in a getting-matching-tattoos way. Seemed like a pretty serious commitment, a couple look like that.
Not that Euntae even knew what a couple look was. He was clueless about romance – Bumjae was sure he had heard the word, but had trouble understanding the meaning. Which wasn’t that rare in his case, Euntae lived in his own little world where words were often meaningless and only concepts mattered. Would be interesting to get a glimpse at his brain every now and then – like what the hell he’d been thinking that time he’d tried to melt glass in a pot.
Anyway, it was clear that despite most likely only having a vague grasp on the meaning of romance, Euntae had started looking at girls a while ago but so far hadn’t talked to a single one for longer than a few minutes. They were freaked out by his intense, silent stares, which were actually just him trying to gather the courage to say hi but ended up looking like death threats.
Bumjae leaned his chin on his hand, looking at Euntae across the café table. If those girls could see Euntae now, happy as a clam, slurping a strawberry milkshake through a heart-shaped silly straw, they’d wonder how they could’ve ever thought he was scary. There was something distinctly kitten-ish about his face at times like these, which made the tiger-like faces all the scarier.
“Euntae, are we dating?”
It felt like the question should have come out more unsure, with some stuttering, and a blush. Instead it was simply that – a question, without much of a tone. That must’ve been the biggest reason Euntae took it the wrong way.
“I wouldn’t hide a girlfriend from you, Bumjae. You’d be the third to know, right after me and the girl”, was the answer, spoken with envious tears aimed at the hero of a movie poster on the bus stop outside, surrounded by beauties each more curvy than the last. It was one of those low-quality action flicks with no substance, Bumjae knew because they had seen that movie – in a late-night showing, sharing popcorn and leaning against each other over the arm rest.
“No, no, I meant as in are we dating, are we a couple?” Bumjae specified, still surprisingly flatly, though a waver of embarrassment was finding its way through. He was still pretty sure Euntae and him had something more than friendship going on, but given Euntae’s... let’s call it eccentric personality, probably even he couldn’t tell what was going on in his own damn head half the time, so maybe he didn’t think the same. Not to mention basic human interaction seemed to mostly escape him, as evidenced by them currently sharing a pink milkshake with heart-shaped straws – for him, that might have been a perfectly normal friend thing that all guys did. He’d gotten a lot better about human interaction after starting middle school, but it was years too early to call him normal. It was too much to expect him to know that held gazes are considered romantic, and asking another guy to compare muscles while shirtless in a bedroom is pretty fucking gay even if you are legitimately excited about seeing the results of working out, and of course, getting matching tattoos is not something just-friends do. But Euntae had insisted, even after Bumjae saying he didn’t need to get the exact same tattoo.
Instead of giving an immediate response to the question, Euntae thought long and hard. It was another one of those faces that looked ready to kill, but actually meant that his gears were turning fiercely – it didn’t happen often, Euntae almost always went with his gut but sometimes rarely he considered something carefully. Bumjae hadn’t expected his question to be such a difficult one, but he supposed that meant the answer would be good? Since Euntae wasn’t rejecting the thought, he must’ve felt something more than friendship towards Bumjae as well. So even if they weren’t a couple yet, they might be sometime in the future. Good to know... that brought a small smile and a slight blush to Bumjae’s face.
That seemed to be what Euntae had needed to reach a conclusion. His face lit up like 1000 watt light bulb, and he stared at Bumjae with his eyes full of excitement, clearly expecting something. Having been friends since childhood, Bumjae could hazard a guess at what he was expecting – to be asked out, because certain situations require certain rituals. With a giddy grin Bumjae obliged.
“Will you go out with me?”
“YES!” Euntae answered with glee. Then his face immediately dropped. “Oh. But that means I can’t get a girlfriend.”
Euntae was a fuckin’ weirdo, but a cute one so who even gave a shit.
“You win some, you lose some”, Bumjae shrugged and took another sip of the milkshake.
#fan fiction#Lookism#vasco#jace park#lee eun tae#park bum jae#vascoxjace#linssifanfiction#heart-shaped whatever
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Bad Blood Letting Ch 8
AO3 Masterpost
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
--
Yue Lung is 2 years older than Soo Ling, so he’s already 22 when Soo Ling turns 20. It isn’t a big difference, but somehow, on the day, it feels significant. 22 sounds like an adult, while Soo Ling still feels like a teenager. Or maybe he’d just been a mature teenager. Who can tell? Not Yue Lung, for sure. He’s currently threatening to make Soo Ling sleep on the couch if he doesn’t let Yue Lung win this round of Mario kart. In response, Soo Ling tickles him and Yue Lung falls off the track completely.
The rest of the guests laugh at the tickle fight that ensues. They’re getting more comfortable with Yue Lung, as he himself has mellowed out a lot after he and Soo Ling started dating. It seemed that a lot of his antagonistic behavior had stemmed from his unclear emotional state and wants. Soo Ling is teaching him, slowly but surely, and they both learn together. They still have many boundaries they don’t dare to push, and it feels stifling at times, but really, just being able to exist near Yue Lung is enough for Soo Ling. The same isn’t enough for Yue Lung, though, he requires much physical contact and constant reassurance that he’s Soo Ling’s number one priority, far above number two. Soo Ling doesn’t mind giving him either of those.
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Bad Blood Letting - Ch 4
Ao3 Masterpost
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
-
On his 16th birthday, Soo Ling invites Yue Lung along for the party. Despite their bad history, they became friends somewhere along the line after they started working together to make Chinatown safe again. It probably started as pity on Soo Ling’s part, that soon morphed into sympathy as he learned more of the other boy’s history and circumstances, and a bit of respect for his unrelenting spirit. It’s just unfortunate it has to manifest in such a shitty way.
Yue Lung isn’t yet very good at being friends - Soo Ling doubts he ever had one before - so he needs a lot of practice. He is quick to anger and insult, but he also texts Soo Ling on an almost daily basis to talk about whatever. Surprisingly often it’s flowers. They sometimes go out to lunch together, or watch a movie before proceeding to business. Yue Lung is not yet good at being friends, but he’s learning fast.
Though that’s only when it comes to Soo Ling – with everyone else he remains venomous. He might not be overly hostile, at least if Soo Ling asks him to play nice, but there is always a snide comment and a condescending look hiding between the lines.
“You’re the pearl among swine” is something Yue Lung is fond of telling Soo Ling, of course referring to his gang and friends. Soo Ling always corrects the statement to “I’m the head swine among swine”, and sometimes returns the sentiment to Yue Lung. They may be the king swine and king snake among their kind, but between the two of them, they stand on equal footing.
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Bad Blood Letting - Ch 7
AO3 Masterpost
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
TW: mentions of suicidal ideation
--
The next year Soo Ling keeps his birthday party small for two reasons: first is that the memory of last year’s world-ending hangover will never leave his mind, and second is that Yue Lung has been suicidal and needs a sober friend to take care of him. Soo Ling decides to hold the party at his house, and only invites a few friends and classmates, and tells them to supply their own drinks. He keeps careful track of his own drinking, even though he gets teased over it.
He finds that though being outright drunk can sometimes be fun, it’s safer to be tipsy. Not only because of brutal hangovers, but also because then he can tell when Yue Lung is about to use his paralyzing poisons on someone. He makes a note to not invite that particular classmate anywhere with alcohol, as it seems to bring out a playboy personality that wouldn’t recognize danger if it stabbed him in the face.
Then again, maybe Soo Ling is obnoxious in his own way.
“C’mon, I want you to stay the night. You promised I could have anything I want”, he mumbles, and Yue Lung tch’s. Soo Ling knows full well he’s been abusing his birthday gift of getting-anything-he-wants the whole evening, but since Yue Lung has been complying the whole time, he sees no reason to stop. So far he’s gotten Yue Lung to tell a joke, to dance with him, to play nice with Eiji for five minutes, and apologize to Nina for being an ass when they first met.
“No. You’ve been interfering with my plan for weeks.”
Of course, there’s one thing that Soo Ling wants more than anything, but it happens to be one thing Yue is most adamantly against. It’s been almost two months, Soo Ling had expected Yue Lung to forget about the suicide plan a week later. Yue Lung is the exact type of insensitive idiot to threaten self-harm to garner sympathy, and flighty enough to forget all about it when the moment was over. But each time Soo Ling asks if he’d like to come with Soo Ling to the Halloween parade this year, or what he has planned for fourth of July, or if he’s free next week because Soo Ling feels like going to the movies, anything innocuous to probe Yue Lung’s plans for the future, the answer is the same each time – I won’t be alive then. Soo Ling may have been able to stall Yue Lung’s plan to kill himself, but he hasn’t been able to convince Yue Lung to give up on it.
“Just for the night. You said ‘anything I want today’, and it’s still today.” Stalling is still a good option, Soo Ling can stall for decades if that’s what it takes. He could stall the rest of his life. He’s gotten good at pulling Yue Lung’s heart strings, so all he needs to do is flash some puppy eyes whenever Yue Lung tries to do something stupid. “I promise. Just for the night.”
“Ugh, fine! But don’t expect me to happy about it!”
Yue Lung is easy to manipulate. Soo Ling allows himself a teasing smile. Though his victory soon turns to confusion, as Yue Lung proceeds to try and blow him.
Not that Soo Ling would have hated it, but Yue Lung would have. It’s scary how far Yue Lung is willing to for Soo Ling. He throws all caution to the wind and disregards his personal comfort, just to bring Soo Ling a bit of joy for a moment. He went against his whole board of directors to promise Soo Ling, a student who is still years from graduating, a position as CEO, gave him a house that could have been sold for a few million at least, just to name a few of the financial sacrifices he’s made for Soo Ling. And that’s a huge thing, yes, and far be it for him to deny he’s happy about those, but Soo Ling could have lived without those – he doesn’t need a six-figure job when he’s happy enough getting by, nor a three-bedroom house when he lives alone. What he has recently found he can’t live without is Yue Lung – his resolve, his tenderness with his deadly flowers, the light in his eyes when he talks about his mother, the way he silently fills the lonely voids Soo Ling’s father and Yen Tai left behind, the gentle words and touches he uses to comfort Soo Ling in the times when the past becomes too much to bear alone, how he allows his true self to come to the surface for air more and more often, these are all what have made Yue Lung precious and irreplaceable. The thought of him not existing anymore is impossible. It’s – not something a simple mind like Soo Ling’s can wrap itself around.
Soo Ling will make up for the misunderstanding tomorrow. He doesn’t want Yue Lung to give himself just because he was asked to, he wants Yue Lung to want him in the same way he wants Yue Lung.
#suicidal ideation#bad blood letting#banana fish#fan fiction#sing soo ling#yut-lung lee#linssifanfiction#WIPtale
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Bad Blood Letting - Ch 2
Ao3 Masterpost
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
--
On Soo Ling’s 14th birthday, he also celebrates becoming the second-in-command of the Chinatown gang. He has known Shorter Wong since he was little, and has nothing but good words to say about him. He is the best boss anyone could ask for, and soon Soo Ling’s respect for him outweighs his respect for the Lee clan. He also learns some harsh realities of life – the clan heads are not as perfect as he had thought. Some of them are borderline assholes, and the rest are at least manipulative. Still, that does little to undermine his loyalty to them. You can disagree with a person while still agreeing with their ideology – the fact remains that Soo Ling’s mom didn’t become homeless thanks to them, and they continue to support the whole community. All in all, becoming second-in-command changes his life little.
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Bad Blood Letting - Ch 1
Ao3 Masterpost
My writer’s block isn’t letting up much, but I have managed to write some drabble versions for scenes to a longer work. I started this project before my block hit in full swing, and it’s basically an abridged version of the fic Flood Plains(of which I have posted a WIP). I’m hoping that this will give back some of my inspiration for writing.
The chapters will mostly be drabble length, and take place about one year apart, either on or close to Soo Ling’s birthday.
Pairing: Sing Soo Ling/Lee Yue Lung
Rating: T
Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
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When Soo Ling is 13, he has great respect for the Lee clan. They defend their fellow Chinese man, and Sing’s own family owes much to them. Thanks to the Lees, his parents were able to find stable, respectable jobs – he knows that the only option for many outsiders is either illegal temp work or whoring. When his father died, the Lees gave his children good jobs so they could support their mother. The Lees aren’t ashamed of their heritage, and don’t want their supporters to shun their own, either. Soo Ling never has to spend a moment being ashamed or downplaying his ancestry, unlike the Mexican kid Piao is friends with. He respects the Lee clan, and out of that respect, he joins their gang.
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Another Flood Plains Excerpt
I just realized I have posted nothing in a week. Not that I have a lot to post with my seemingly never-ending writer’s block, but I do have projects going on, even if they are progressing at about 10 words/month.
Soo Ling, thinking that Yue Lung needs a social life, tries to trick him into going on a friendship date with his classmate. Turns out she’s a fujyoshi.
Previous excerpt
“Ah, that’s him.”
There was no parking space near the restaurant, so the driver always waited for Yue Lung to step out of the car before driving away somewhere, to wait for the call to come collect. Usually he trusted Soo Ling to keep him safe and left his bodyguard at home. This was not one of those times. The bodyguard that opened the car door for his employer was an impressive sight by himself, with his stereotypical sunglasses and shoulders wide as barn doors, but he was far outshone by his dazzling client. The street was always busy during lunch time, and Soo Ling felt it safe to say every single eye was glued to Yue Lung as he stepped out of the car, helped by his bodyguard, like a princess stepping out of a horse carriage. Dressed in an opulent, blue changshan and hair decked out in ornaments, he looked like the royal heroine from a period drama. It went even further than any party outfit Soo Ling had ever seen him wear. He was absolutely stunning.
Nina wolf-whistled quietly, startling Soo Ling. He had been so absorbed in the sight that he forgot he wasn’t alone. And luckily Nina wasn’t weirded out.
“He may act rude, but secretly he’s nice”, Soo Ling whispered to her as Yue Lung started gracefully making his way over to them. It was like looking at some historical reenactment, except the actor was almost divinely beautiful.
“Wait, isn’t that your sugar daddy?”
“Can we just drop the joke already?” Soo Ling groaned.
“If I become his girlfriend, do you think he’d also give me a house?” she whispered jokingly and punched Soo Ling on the arm. Even if she was joking, he should later explain to her why even entertaining the thought was a Bad Idea, even if she had been part of the mob world.
When Yue Lung reached them, he had that fake-friendly smile on his face that meant he was secretly judging the hell out of his company. Soo Ling had been on the receiving end of that smile a couple times himself, at the start. They had quickly grown close enough that Yue Lung didn’t consider it necessary to hide his thoughts from Soo Ling. Or that was how it had seemed, anyway. Safe to say that certain revelations lately had showed that there was still much that Yue Lung only let himself know.
“There was no need to dress up”, Soo Ling commented, and Yue Lung smiled at him shyly from behind his fan, feigning embarrassment.
“I felt like I should make a good first impression”, Yue Lung said pleasantly, playing the part of a demure beauty, but his eyes were mocking Nina. Soo Ling couldn’t say if she really didn’t notice the blatant derision, or if she just pretended not to, as she energetically stuck her hand out to Yue Lung. He gripped it firmly with a cold look. This didn’t deter her in the slightest.
“I’m Nina Page, we’re in the same class”, she smiled, gesturing to Soo Ling.
“Lee Yue Lung. His former boss.”
“I’ve seen you a couple times, you’re even prettier up close”, Nina complimented.
“Can’t say the same about you, ugly”, Yue Lung deadpanned, and walked past them to enter the restaurant, his bodyguard silently trailing behind him.
Well, looked like he hadn’t been planning to keep up the façade for long. Soo Ling facepalmed and quietly muttered a few curses in Mandarin.
“I swear he’s really nice once you get-”, he started, but was shocked to silence as he saw Nina smiling gleefully, excitement spewing from every pore.
“Let’s not keep him waiting!”
Nina skipped inside like an antelope. Soo Ling started thinking that maybe he didn’t have as many normal friends as he had believed.
The staff at the restaurant always treated Yue Lung as a guest of honor. They had a lot of respect for the Lee clan, despite them being reduced to a single person. They always got his order first, prioritized him over the customers who had come earlier, and put actual effort into his portions. Yue Lung didn’t take advantage of the preferential treatment, but neither was he bothered by it.
Nina seemed to take that as a sign of a noble and humble heart, despite having been insulted to her face only minutes earlier. She asked him to recommend a dish for her, and he said to pick a salad because she was already fat enough. Soo Ling slapped him on the back of the head, scandalizing the staff and upsetting the bodyguard, and Yue Lung changed his recommendation to mapo tofu. He was a little less of an asshole after that.
“So have you been friends with Su Lin a long time?” Yue Lung asked, making fun of Nina’s pronunciation of Soo Ling’s name.
“Only for a few months! But we’re good friends! We’ve worked on a lot of group projects before”, Nina said sweetly, making eyes at Yue Lung. Soo Ling hadn’t expected this outcome, sure she liked pretty boys, but she wasn’t a masochist doormat. She also had a boyfriend, and seeing his girl react like that to another guy could only result in a fight.
“她認為這是一項成就嗎?” Yue Lung said sarcastically. In Cantonese. Thinking that Soo Ling could understand him.
“我只会说普通话，我以为你知道“, Soo Ling replied, and Yue Lung’s face made it clear that their only common language was English.
“Isn’t that nice?” Yue Lung huffed, and Nina only smiled brighter. She was worryingly into Yue Lung. If she was some kind of sexual deviant, then he might really be in danger. The bodyguard might actually come in need.
“So I suppose you’ve known each other a long time?” Nina smiled, leaning her chin on her hand and toying with a strand of hair with the other.
Soo Ling said “A few years” at the same time as Yue Lung said “Yes”. Well, of course 4 years was a longer time than 3 months... Soo Ling supposed Yue Lung was just simplifying things to get by with as little talking as possible. Nina smirked with a knowing look.
“Well, old friends are nice, but new ones are exciting. Soo Ling is pretty popular, you know? Girls especially are almost lining up to him”, she blabbered, something which was certainly not true, but she didn’t care about Soo Ling’s attempts to interrupt her. “I’m lucky that he chose to be my friend”, she sighed happily, and Soo Ling was more and more confused. Wasn’t she supposed to be flirting with Yue Lung? Letting him think she had a crush on Soo Ling sounded counterintuitive. Was this something all women did? Or just weirdos like Nina?
“It’s really not li-“
“He’ll find someone newer soon enough”, Yue Lung bit at Nina, and even the waiter coming in with the rice did nothing to calm the tension. Even the bodyguard didn’t know how to react to the situation, he was standing almost too still to be human, trying to blend into the wall. Nina smirked even wider.
“Perhaps.”
“Look, ladies, could we please play nice? I didn’t mean to start World War 3 here.”
Yue Lung shot him a poisonous glare, while Nina played innocent.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your taste in friends is getting worse by the year”, Yue Lung said coldly.
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The Place Between Here And There - Chapter 9: ...And Happiness In Private Life
Masterpost AO3
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 9(cont’d)
This one is super super short(actually just the first few scenes of the complete chapter) because I just can’t shake the writer’s block on this fic. I’m putting this fic on HIATUS, can’t say for how long, but I would like to finish it someday. Cowriters will always be extremely welcome!
--
It had been a major fuck-up to not press Vanya more about his family life last night. That had been the first time he had volunteered information, without any prodding from Al, and would have kept talking if only Al hadn’t been such an idiot! Yeah, sure, he’d been exhausted and in no condition to analyze whatever would’ve been told, but he could’ve done that later! Now Vanya had come back to his senses, and his lips were sealed tighter than Fort Knox! Uuuggghhh!!!
Al frowned into his coffee cup while staring at the wall where Vanya had scribbled his number that first time. Back then Al hadn’t been surprised to get a number, but as time had went on, he came to realize that Vanya wasn’t the type of person who went around sharing his number with just anyone. He was picky about the type of people he socialized with, and honestly, it still kind of baffled Al that he had been one of those Vanya accepted. They couldn’t be more different – as charming as Al was, and he was very charming, he couldn’t really get Vanya. Al simply could not understand why Vanya didn’t want to talk about some things, or why he was content with being a silent participant in a conversation, how he could stand not having friends. His life seemed so profoundly lonely and boring, and he didn’t seem content with it, but he wasn’t willing to change it, either.
Maybe it was all just because of that mental illness he refused to acknowledge. It’s never easy losing your parents, and it sounded like Vanya had been pretty young when it happened. He said they had moved to the States in 1996, so Ivan had been, what, around... Uhm, 2015 minus 1996... that made 19... and now Vanya was 32 so that minus 19... Uhhhhhhh around 12. Close enough, Al had never been good at math. Well, 12 wasn’t that young, didn’t sound to Al like a death in the family would be that traumatizing at that age. Al had been 10 when Artie moved back to England, and it hadn’t fucked him up bad. So it wasn’t the exact same thing, but it had been close. Five years of radio silence from someone who was practically his older brother. That’s basically a death.
So maybe it wasn’t just a simple death, maybe there’d been some weird, special circumstances. Could be that Vanya had been a huge mama’s boy. Or maybe it had been an accident he was present at, like a car crash. If it had been that, Al sure was lucky Vanya had survived. Kids are so fragile, they can die from the dumbest things. If he hadn’t survived, or if his mom had, Vanya would’ve never moved to America, and then Al would’ve never met him. Al hated thinking that it was a good thing Vanya’s mom had died, but he couldn’t help it – as infuriating and incomprehensible Vanya was, he really was The One for Al. Despite all their differences, despite all their problems, despite all their fights.
Al was again reminded of their first ever fight, the one with rape fetish accusation. Dubois had been killed that same night, and Vanya hadn’t replied to Al’s texts until two days later. If Dubois had been found as quickly as the other bodies, within a couple days instead of ten, Vanya would have been too busy to ever be willing to fix his relationship with a guy he had only been dating a couple weeks, max. Funny how many hurdles they had passed without ever knowing they had existed. If Kyle had gotten to Al first, if Al had followed the street signs better, if Dubois had been found earlier… They were like Romeo and Juliet, destined to be together, star-crossed lovers. If that wouldn’t convince Artie that Vanya was awesome, nothing would! He was into occult crap so he must’ve believed in fate, too.
Come to think of it, what if Vanya had met Dubois instead of Al that night? He did say they were very similar, he might have fallen in love with Dubois, as well. Al liked to think that he was a special case, that Dubois wouldn’t have been as invested and smitten with Vanya as Al had been from the get-go, but who’s to say he couldn’t have held Vanya’s interest just long enough for Al to pass by unnoticed? Or what if BK had chosen to kill Al instead of Dubois? If they really were that similar to an outside eye, it wouldn’t have mattered which one died. Al was lucky he had been too pissed off to even think about going out that night, or it might have been him strangled and castrated. He wouldn’t have put it past himself to pick up some random guy and agree to an alley fuck. Maybe Dubois had had a fight with his boyfriend, too. Maybe he hadn’t been past having revenge sex. Maybe he had liked rough sex. Maybe he wouldn’t have been scared by Vanya’s violent fucking. Maybe Vanya would have run into him and pounded him into blissful goo. Maybe Vanya would have liked imagining he was beating Al.
Sliding doors, like Al had said about Kyle. In one continuity, Al was dating Vanya and Dubois was killed – in another, Al was killed and Dubois was dating Vanya – and in a third, Al had a one-night stand with Kyle, Vanya had no one to pull him out of depression, and Dubois was dead.
~¨:.:¨~
Ivan entered the office with three coffees in hand – two blacks and one with milk. This was the easiest Toris-like behavior to replicate, and would likely raise the least questions since it also benefited himself. He made sure to let Amanda see him set his own coffee down on the desk before giving hers, and she wasn’t weirded out. That was a relief.
“Good morning”, Ivan said, without smiling, because that would have been pushing it. Amanda nodded in acknowledgment and took a sip of her coffee, then said a simple “thanks” before opening her computer. When Toris came in, she smiled to him and greeted him cheerfully. After she turned back to her computer, and wouldn’t see Ivan’s face, he also smiled slightly as he nodded his greeting to Toris.
That day, Ivan concentrated on trying to replicate the smiles Toris often employed – the ones that didn’t express happiness, but were rather meant to ease to atmosphere. He made it look easy – it came out naturally, at the right time, and did what it sought out to do. Ivan only knew how to do sarcastic smiles, and by the end of the day Amanda was almost angry enough at him to actually say something to his face instead of muttering quietly to herself.
Exhausted from the mental work, Ivan didn’t even bother getting out of his coat before collapsing face first on the sofa.
“Rough day, huh?” Fredya chuckled. Ivan made a grunt, and Fredya crouched down to see his face. “I know what’ll cheer you right up – some quality cuddles and a good movie!”
Ivan was too tired to correct him, and so let Fredya take off his boots and peel off his coat. He nearly refused the cuddles, but surprisingly found that he didn’t mind them much, after all. He still would have preferred a nap alone in bed, without explosions and dramatic bass going off every five seconds and Fredya’s elbow digging into his stomach. Somehow he still managed to fall asleep for a few minutes, not enough to feel rested, but much calmer than before. They heated up leftovers from yesterday, moved back to the sofa where Fredya picked out a new action movie without even finishing the first one, and Ivan took out his notebook to arrange his thoughts.
About an hour passed, with Fredya saying whatever came to his mind and Ivan replying with a short comment every now and then, peacefully, until Ivan’s phone rang. That was starting to happen abnormally often – before he had crossed paths with Fredya, the phone would ring once every couple months, mostly work related. Now Fredya called him every once in a while when he was feeling too lazy to type, and even Katyushka seemed to have been bitten by the call bug. Two calls from her in as many weeks? Ivan hoped she was only calling to borrow some more money.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
“Work?” Fredya asked, pausing the movie. He still thought Ivan was actually watching that garbage.
“No, it’s Katyusha. Unpause that mindless drivel.”
Ivan got up from Fredya’s lap, already stressing about what was pressing on Katyushka’s mind. Don’t get him wrong, he loved both his sisters more than anything in the world, but Katyushka barely ever called for anything other than pressing matters, so Ivan had learned to associate calls from her with crying and pressure.
“Yes, Katyushka?”
“Hey, Vanya. Is this a good time to talk?” Katyushka greeted cheerfully. A weight immediately lifted off Ivan’s shoulders.
“Yes, I’m at home. It sounds like something good happened, yes?”
“I think so!” she giggled gleefully, sounding like the careless teenager she had never gotten the chance to be. “I was talking with Tasha earlier today and she told me some interesting news!” she sang teasingly. How odd, Ivan had no clue what news from Tasha might warrant a call to Ivan. If it was related to Tasha herself, Katyushka would wait for Tasha to tell the news herself, and there were few other people in their lives to get excited about. Tasha was interested in celebrity gossip, but Katyushka did not share that interest, so it couldn’t be a movie star getting married.
“Oh? Pray tell.”
“Don’t play coy with me!” Katyushka laughed. So it was news that Ivan should already be aware of. But then why would Katyushka be telling them to Ivan?
“If you’re going to make me guess, we’ll be here the rest of the day”, Ivan replied.
“You have a boyfriend!”
His heart froze over in panic.
“What?! No - I mean – Tasha told you that?”
He was hardly intelligible, it felt like his tongue had thrown in the towel.
“Uh-huh!” she squeed, for once oblivious to his terror, and Ivan could picture her jumping in joy. “She was jealous because you haven’t been spending time with her so she complained to me! Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I – because – Tasha… Tasha gets jealous very easily, so I did not wish for her to know”, Ivan stuttered, panic setting in, before remembering that Tasha already knew about Fredya. He didn’t need to stay a secret anymore. Ivan was just so used to hiding his relationships from Tasha he did without thinking.
“Hey, you could’ve told me! I can keep a secret!” Not from Tasha she couldn’t. Unintentionally or not. “Ooh, I’m so excited, it’s been a long time since you were with anyone! Is he nice? Good-looking? Does he also want kids? Gay or bi? Single or divorced?” Katyushka had always been the one most interested in romance, despite never having dated in her life. Since high school she had kept claiming that she didn’t have the time needed for a solid relationship. While that was true, if only because she would not let herself have the time, Ivan was sure the actual reason was Katyushka being afraid of the apple not falling far from the tree. Her mother and sister sure had trouble picking good men.
“You are not giving me any time to answer”, Ivan said, both relieved and nervous. He didn’t mind Katyushka knowing about Fredya, in fact they would get along nicely, but Ivan was worried about her putting ideas into Fredya’s head. Ivan had only ever dated for fun, but each time his older sister had started planning weddings right away, and Ivan didn’t want to scare Fredya away so soon.
“Don’t be nervous! I’m really happy for you! You know you’re not getting any younger and it doesn’t help that you’re so shy, plus you’re picky, so all the time I’m worried no one is good enough! So tell me about him!” Katyushka urged.
“Well, um, he’s – um, American, he’s a little younger than me. He’s very lively. Please don’t tell Tasha –“ Right, Tasha already knew, as they had established at the very beginning of the call. Talk about conditioned behavior. “His name is Alfred. Do you remember the drunk man who paid our dinner in the Ladle? That’s the man.”
“I do!” Katuyshka squealed in exhilaration. “So it’s thanks to me that you guys got together. You were so oblivious to his flirting that I had to give him some tips”, she giggled. “He seemed like a fun guy.”
“He is”, Ivan agreed wholeheartedly. “He’s the complete opposite of me. He’s very social, for one.”
“I hope he doesn’t drink as much”, Katyushka said, and although her tone wasn’t accusatory at all, Ivan immediately felt guilty. She had known about his drinking problem almost from the start, but wasn’t aware of how bad it had gotten in recent years.
“He usually only takes a few beers every now and then. That night was a rare exception”, Ivan assured her. The only other time Fredya had gotten shit-faced was when he had tried challenging Ivan – Fredya learned from his mistakes, even if he liked to pretend otherwise. He always gave off the air of not trying at all, but sometimes you could catch a glimpse of the truth - Fredya did nothing by half-measures, he always did his best because nothing else was good enough for him. Being his best self was so effortless to Fredya, watching him was a joy, no one else could have such spirit. There was a beauty to him – a sincerity. “He’s – Katyushka, he’s amazing. Thank you.”
“Vanechka… Oh my god, I’ve never heard you say that about anyone! Aww, that’s so romantic! When are you bringing him to meet us?”
“Uh – I don’t think that would be a good idea. Tasha would get jealous.”
“Come on, you can’t talk him up like that and then not let me talk to him! He still needs to get the family’s approval! Ask him if he’s free this week, I’ll make time!”
She was so excited it would crush her if Ivan didn’t comply. It was still a difficult decision to make - he knew Fredya liked him, but doubtfully to the extent of wanting to meet his family. It would heavily imply a wish for long-term attachment, and Fredya was not the type to settle down. He would run to the hills the second Ivan implied wanting to keep him for life. But Katyushka had asked – Ivan had to do it for her sake, Ivan owed her, and not only for being the catalyst for their relationship.
“Alright”, he finally said, and the answer was an overjoyed yippee that sounded wholly inappropriate from a 36-year old.
“Let me know when he can make it! Talk to you later!”
“Wait, you don’t need to hang up. He’s here.”
With his heart thumping painfully, Ivan opened the bedroom door with shaking hands. Fredya was thankfully still concentrated on his idiotic movie so he didn’t notice.
“Um, Fredya?” Ivan asked cautiously.
“Ya?” he asked distractedly, popping a chip in his mouth, the crackle probably audible even through phone.
“Katyusha is on the phone. She has a request.”
“Oh, should I leave?”
“No, no, it actually has everything to do with you. She would like to meet you sometime this week.”
The reaction Fredya had to this invasion of intimacy was very far from the one Ivan had expected. Instead of being weirded out and declining outright, his face lit up in a smile wider than Ivan had ever seen on him.
“Are you serious! Of course I’ll meet her!”
He was so ecstatic that Ivan was sure he was not aware of the implications. He was afraid Fredya was running headfirst into something he thought was casual friendship. Even so, Ivan was afraid of stating clearly what meeting Katyushka was really about, because even suggesting meeting her implied Ivan wanted to tie Fredya down. He would not be opposed to it, if that was what Fredya wanted, but it would be very presumptuous of him to suggest it himself.
“She seems to have a different idea of our relationship than we do, so please disregard whatever she might say about that.”
“Chill, dude, I can handle girls. When?”
“Vozlyublennaya sestra, pozhaluysta, ne govori nichego o svad'bakh ili detyakh”, Ivan pleaded to the phone, and Katyushka promised she wouldn’t. She had good intentions, but she wasn’t very good at keeping herself in check, rest assured she would forget all about the promise when she saw Fredya in the flesh again.
Ivan put the phone on speaker so they could all weigh in. They eventually settled on Wednesday. Katyushka suggested gathering at Ivan’s house, but he was worried it would feel too domestic and final, and suggested a restaurant instead. He would of course pay for Katyushka’s meal, he couldn’t very well force her into paying herself when she was already behind on so many bills.
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Vozlyublennaya sestra, pozhaluysta, ne govori nichego o svad'bakh ili detyakh.(Возлюбленная сестра, пожалуйста, не говори ничего о свадьбах или детях.) : Beloved sister, please don’t say anything about weddings or children.
Chapter name comes from ...счастья в личной жизни by Alla Pugacheva.
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Flood Plain - Banana Fish Fanfic Excerpt
Soo-Ling/Yut-Lung
I‘ve been in the throes of a severe writer’s block for several weeks now, but before it started I watched Banana Fish and started this fanfic. The first chapter is mostly done, but I might have to turn this whole thing into a one-shot.
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Yue Lung had hit his lowest point many times in his life.
The first time had been when he watched his mother be raped and murdered.
The second was when Ash Lynx pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The third was when Sing Soo Ling pointed a gun at him.
Yue Lung had meant what he had said at that moment – Soo Ling still had all the right to blow his brains out. He had betrayed the boy, blackmailed him, manipulated his brother, exploited his whole gang... Yue Lung wouldn’t have been bitter about facing his end at Soo Ling’s hands that day. His life goal may not have been accomplished, with some members of the Lee clan still running loose in the world, but at that moment he had just been so tired, so exhausted, struggling to draw breath when the hatred for his brothers wasn’t there to fuel him anymore. Alcohol had been just about the only thing that had kept him from staying comatose. As long as he had been drunk, he could at least get angry.
And being compared to Ash Lynx really had pissed him off, he wouldn’t even have needed the champagne to get angry enough to slap Soo Ling. Insinuating that Ash Lynx had anything Yue Lung would ever be envious of was more of an affront than accusing a monarch of treason! He had been a vile snake, and if you asked anyone else but the three assholes who kissed his ass with glee, they would all say that bleeding out for hours hadn’t been punishment enough for him! That slut had had no right being happy, and he dared to go out with a smile! The only justice would have been that thrice-damned jap dying instead! Ash Lynx should have hated himself for all eternity for failing to save him.
The way Yue Lung had hated himself. For being weak, for being cowardly, for being the exact thing he had vowed to exterminate from the world. For being the kind of person Soo Ling had to pity, for not being the kind of person he could look up to.
For not killing himself when the last of his half-brothers had been eradicated.
Yue Lung hadn’t been grateful to Soo Ling for sparing his life, and still wasn’t. He wasn’t grateful for being forced to slave away until Chinatown returned to its normal state, but he didn’t resent Soo Ling for that, either. It was simply a duty he eventually felt like he owed to Soo Ling. Now that everything was stable, that duty was fulfilled. Chinatown was safe. Soo Ling was doing well, he’d been accepted into business school with Yue Lung’s recommendation, and was looking to a future as the CEO of Yue Lung’s group. He no longer pitied Yue Lung, much less needed him. The emotional tangle inside Yue Lung had slowly disintegrated over these few years. Thanks to Soo Ling, he no longer felt like a mere vessel for vengeance, or indebted to anyone. For the first time in his life, Yue Lung felt calm. At peace.
His relationship with Soo Ling had evolved over the years to something resembling friendship. Soo Ling was forced to work with Yue Lung for an extended period of time, and as some sort of coping mechanism he came to think he actually liked Yue Lung, and started visiting outside of business. Yue Lung didn’t mind it much, if nothing else then Soo Ling was pleasant company the majority of the time. Besides, once Yue Lung would no longer be there, he would soon forget everything. Why not enjoy it while it lasted? Soo Ling made him feel normal, like someone who hadn’t been raised as glorified merchandise. They talked about their day, movies and economy, all sorts of mundane things instead of assassinations, poisons and shady business deals. Soo Ling had taken Yue Lung to a karaoke bar on his 18th birthday. They were both terrible singers. Yue Lung had returned the favor on Soo Ling’s own 18th birthday party, renting the whole bar so all his friends could come. They felt comfortable in each other’s company. Soo Ling came over often, usually bringing take-out Chinese food with him or forcing him out to eat because he knew Yue Lung drank more than he ate. Sometimes he helped Yue Lung get to bed, on the nights he was too drunk to make the trip himself, and he’d stay the night so he could lecture Yue Lung about it, all the while having just as bad a hangover as Yue Lung. At first these small signs of concern had irritated him, but with time he had come to appreciate them. Soo Ling could be harsh and demanding, but that was only because he had a strong sense of honor and demanded others to live up to it as well. It was thanks to that demand that Yue Lung was able to feel redeemed to some degree. At least there was now one person in the world who didn’t look at him with contempt. Just one person who would sit with him in the garden and gaze at the flowers.
It was quiet in the garden. Late spring afternoon, it was warm but not hot, sunny but not overly bright thanks to the thin sheet of clouds. Many of the flowers were yet to bloom, but the amaryllises and larkspurs were in full swing. The earliest risers had already been harvested, and if there was anyone left to take care of them, the seeds would be taken from the rest. The calla lilies and fox gloves would bloom much later. Come summer, and the garden would be bathed in pink and peach. Soo Ling had made fun of Yue Lung for choosing such girly colors, of course, saying he could have at least chosen purple. He didn’t know that the monkshoods were purple this year, as they always were. The pink ones just weren’t as pretty. On the off chance Yue Lung’s words would hold some weight after he was gone, he had instructed his staff to give a bouquet of every flower in this garden for Soo Ling once the oleanders flowered. He wouldn’t appreciate it, but since it would be a gift, he would be obligated to accept it. A gigantic bouquet of nothing but pink flowers. With any luck he’d be stupid enough to touch them without gloves. Would serve him right for bullying Yue Lung about his femininity.
“See those bleeding hearts? I planted them just for you”, Yue Lung snickered around his wineglass. He had chosen gold heart specifically for the obnoxiously pink flowers, though he himself was partial to snowdrift. Unfortunately the gold heart was new, so it wouldn’t be reaching it full size until a few years later. Provided someone looked after it, of course, and Yue Lung wasn’t banking on that happening.
“It’s your garden, dude. You’re the one who’s gonna be looking at them every day, not me.”
“Come take a look”, Yue Lung said, standing up and walking to the flower. Soo Ling followed him with a smirk and a slight sway, thanks to the buzz from the booze. Despite his impressive size, he only needed to drink half as much as Yue Lung to get drunk.
Yue Lung pointed out the largest flower. “I named it Soo Ling, because it’s the biggest bleeding heart of them all”, he chuckled.
“Not because it’s the same color as my Asian glow?”
“Its full name is Sing Can’thandlealcohol Soo Ling”, Yue Lung giggled, because he rarely passed an opportunity to tease Soo Ling about his alcohol tolerance.
“Oh, shut up already!”
“You shut up, you know it’s true!” Yue Lung laughed. He went back to sit back down while Soo Ling lingered at the plant. Yue Lung almost asked him what was taking so long, but then Soo Ling returned to him, with his namesake in his hand. He held it against Yue Lung’s ear, and nodded approvingly.
“It would look good on you as an earring.”
“Careful there, those are poisonous. You could get a rash.”
Soo Ling threw the flower away in a panic, and then whined about how nothing in Yue Lung’s garden was ever safe.
“Doesn’t stop them from being pretty”, Yue Lung mused. “Besides, I prefer cutting the middle man in my business, all my poisons come from here.”
“You need a real hobby, dude”, Soo Ling muttered.
“No time anymore. I’m going to kill myself tonight.”
Yue Lung enjoyed watching the indecisive shock on Soo Ling’s face. He couldn’t tell whether this was one of Yue Lung’s dramatic jokes or a serious statement. He was too much of a nice guy to keep joking for the fear of Yue Lung being serious – which he was – but also not keen on being laughed at.
“...why?” was what he finally managed to say out loud.
Yue Lung shrugged and told his reasoning nonchalantly. “I just feel like it’s the right time. I’ve paid my debt to you, and I’m the only Lee left.”
“...I think you’ve had too much wine”, Soo Ling commented quietly, as if Yue Lung didn’t habitually guzzle down twice the amount he had that day. He was barely even buzzed.
“This is only my second glass. I’m not drunk enough to think my debt hasn’t been paid, you disagree?”
“It’s not that! I don’t even remember borrowing money for you!” Soo Ling yelled, but worried. “Are you serious?”
“Money? Now I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That makes two of us”, Soo Ling said, dropping his head into his hands. He was reacting oddly. Yue Lung had expected him to just acknowledge the plan and move on. Not knowing what to say to that, Yue Lung distracted himself with his ponytail – long and silky, his pride and joy. Soo Ling would claim otherwise, but he was jealous of Yue Lung’s hair – he was always looking at, even dared to touch it when they were both a little drunker than usual. Long hair might have suited him when he was younger, but it would have looked odd on him now, with his much more masculine looks. Sweet sixteen had hit him hard and heavy, and he seemed to turn into an adult nearly overnight. He was much taller and wider than Yue Lung, not that there was much to surpass. He had stayed delicate and dainty, and he was glad for that.
Yue Lung took another sip of his wine while Soo Ling gathered his thoughts.
“You’ve already proved you’re different from the other Lees! You don’t need to kill yourself to atone for their sins!”
“Wouldn’t that be hypocritical of me, though? Deciding who’s worthy and who isn’t?” Yue Lung chuckled lightly despite his growing annoyance - in the past, it would have been Soo Ling pointing out the hypocrisy, and now the irony escaped him completely. “Not that I agree with your point. I’ve made up my mind, and I’d appreciate it if you just shut up and let me enjoy my last day on Earth.”
“Why does it have to be today?”
“Why wouldn’t it be today? Your friends aren’t getting shot at every time they step outside their homes, and you’re doing well in school.”
“Couldn’t you at least wait until my birthday? It’s not that far away.”
Not that far away? It was almost two months to Soo Ling’s birthday! It wasn’t even a special year, nothing changes when you turn 19! Yue Lung sighed in annoyance. He wouldn’t have told Soo Ling if he knew he would make such a show about it.
“What’s the point? Your friends hate me, and you always forget about me when Eiji comes in anyway”, Yue Lung pouted. Was that loser some kind of succubus? What was up with every man on the planet fawning over him like school girls over One Direction?
“Well maybe if you weren’t such a bitch I’d feel like remembering you!”
Yue Lung was this close to throwing his wine at Soo Ling’s face. It was bad enough that Soo Ling’s friends were either needlessly stiff or outright hostile with Yue Lung, the universe had also decided that Okumura Eiji had to be a sentimental little bitch and move to New York permanently so he could rub Yue Lung’s failures at his face. Seriously, what was so fucking special about that dweeb? Soo Ling practically kissed the ground at his feet, it was gross.
“If you’re expecting to get in to my will with this stunt you can forget it!”
Yue Lung could rewrite his will after he kicked Soo Ling out. He didn’t need to know that everything valuable was left to him in the current one.
“Who gives a shit about your will!” Soo Ling groan-shouted and slapped Yue Lung on the back of his head, almost sending the wine flying. “I thought you were done hating yourself! You’ve been doing so great lately!”
“Shut up already! What would you know?!”
Soo Ling barely even flinched at the weak slap Yue Lung gave him. He just gave a frustrated sigh. the kind that meant he was debating just shaking Yue Lung “until the stupid fell out of his head”, like he had a few times before.
Damnit, he hadn’t invited Soo Ling for this. They weren’t supposed to get angry at each other. Yue Lung didn’t want to spend his last day alive disappointing the one person who had never exploited him. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and counted to ten.
Fine. If it was so damn important to Soo Ling, Yue Lung would come to his birthday party to be sneered at and ignored. But he would kill himself after that.
“Whatever. If it makes you happy, I’ll come to your stupid party. I’ll even get you anything you want as a present.”
“You promise?” Soo Ling confirmed gravely, staring Yue Lung challengingly straight in the eye, ready to blow up if the answer was anything but right on the mark.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just stop talking about this.”
“I won’t visit your grave if you don’t keep your word”, Soo Ling threatened. It wasn’t very effective, Yue Lung hadn’t expected him to visit anyways.
“I said yeah, just shut up already you goddamn bleeding heart.”
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The Place Between Here And There - Another Excerpt From Ch 9
Masterpost
The chapter is being written... veeeeeeery slowly... I should just put this thing on hiatus:/
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It had been a major fuck-up to not press Vanya more about his family life last night. That had been the first time he had volunteered information, without any prodding from Al, and would have talked if only Al hadn’t been such an idiot! Yeah, sure, he’d been exhausted and in no condition to analyze whatever would’ve been told, but he could’ve done that later! Now Vanya had come back to his senses, and his lips were sealed tighter than Fort Knox! Uuuggghhh!!!
Al frowned into his coffee cup while staring at the wall where Vanya had scribbled his number that first time. Back then Al hadn’t been surprised to get a number, but as time had went on, he came to realize that Vanya wasn’t the type of person who went around sharing his number with just anyone. He was picky about the type of people he socialized with, and honestly, it still kind of baffled Al that he had been one of those Vanya accepted. They couldn’t be more different – as charming as Al was, and he was very charming, he couldn’t really get Vanya. Al simply could not understand why Vanya didn’t want to talk about some things, or why he was content with being a silent participant in a conversation, how he could stand not having friends. His life seemed so profoundly lonely and boring, and he didn’t seem content with it, but he of wasn’t willing to change it, either.
Maybe it was all just because of that mental illness he refused to acknowledge. It’s never easy losing your parents, and it sounded like Vanya had been pretty young when it happened. He said they had moved to the States in 1996, so Ivan had been, what, around... Uhm, 2015 minus 1996... that made 19... and now Vanya was 32 so that minus 19... Uhhhhhhh around 12. Close enough, Al had never been good at math. Well, 12 wasn’t that young, didn’t sound to Al like a death in the family would be that traumatizing at that age. Al had been 10 when Artie moved back to England, and it hadn’t fucked him up bad. So it wasn’t the exact same thing, but it had been close. Five years of radio silence from someone who was practically his older brother. That’s basically a death.
So maybe it wasn’t just a simple death, maybe there’d been some weird, special circumstances. Could be that Vanya had been a huge mama’s boy. Or maybe it had been an accident he was present at, like a car crash. If it had been that, Al sure was lucky Vanya had survived. Kids are so fragile, they can die from the dumbest things. If he hadn’t survived, or if his mom had, Vanya would’ve never moved to America, and then Al would’ve never met him. Al hated thinking that it was a good thing Vanya’s mom had died, but he couldn’t help it – as infuriating and incomprehensible Vanya was, he really was The One for Al. Despite all their differences, despite all their problems, despite all their fights.
Al was again reminded of their first ever fight, the one with rape fetish accusation. Dubois had been killed that same night, and Vanya hadn’t replied to Al’s texts until two days later. If Dubois had been found as quickly as the other bodies, within a couple days instead of ten, Vanya would have been too busy to ever be willing to fix his relationship with a guy he had only been dating a couple weeks, max. Funny how many hurdles they had passed without ever knowing they had existed. If Kyle had gotten to Al first, if Al had followed the street signs better, if Dubois had been found earlier… They were like Romeo and Juliet, destined to be together, star-crossed lovers. If that wouldn’t convince Artie that Vanya was awesome, nothing would! He was into occult crap so he must’ve believed in fate, too.
Come to think of it, what if Vanya had met Dubois instead of Al that night? He did say they were very similar, he might have fallen in love with Dubois, as well. Al liked to think that he was a special case, that Dubois wouldn’t have been as invested and smitten with Vanya as Al had been from the get-go, but who’s to say he couldn’t have held Vanya’s interest just long enough for Al to pass by unnoticed? Or what if BK had chosen to kill Al instead of Dubois? If they really were that similar to an outside eye, it wouldn’t have mattered which one died. Al was lucky he had been too pissed to even think about going out that night, or it might have been him strangled and castrated. He wouldn’t have put it past himself to pick up some random guy and agree to an alley fuck. Maybe Dubois had had a fight with his boyfriend, too. Maybe he hadn’t been past having revenge sex. Maybe he had liked rough sex. Maybe he wouldn’t have been scared by Vanya’s violent fucking. Maybe Vanya would have run into him and pounded him into blissful goo. Maybe Vanya would have liked imagining he was beating Al.
Sliding doors, like Al had said about Kyle. In one continuity, Al was dating Vanya and Dubois was killed – in another, Al was killed and Dubois was dating Vanya – and in a third, Al had a one-night stand with Kyle, Vanya had no one to pull him out of depression, and Dubois was dead.
#hereandthere#wip scene#tease#fan fiction#hetalia#russiaxamerica#RusAme#AmeRus#linssifanfiction#WIPtale
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