Chapter Text
"What did you just say?"
"Stede Bonnet." Stede cleared his throat. He was sure he’d been speaking clearly. "The Gentleman Pirate, co-captain of–"
“I don't care about that part,” the pirate manning the stall advertising crew for hire snapped. “Who did you say your first mate was?"
"Oh," Stede said, unsure why that was so important. Could it be that Izzy’s reputation was so unpleasant no one was willing to work for him? Maybe he should’ve gone with his first instinct and named Oluwande. But no matter how much Stede might have liked things the other way around, Oluwande was merely their boatswain.
Besides, honesty was the best policy. "Izzy Hands," Stede repeated his earlier words. Even if the man was more Ed's first mate than his.
"I don't believe you," the man grunted, twisting a dagger in his hands. Stede frowned and eyed it with distaste. He was certainly a grumpy fellow.
The Revenge had docked at Bristol for the day. Most of the crew was either selling their recently acquired loot or spending their own share. Ed was still on the ship, unwilling to face the crowd.
(Or so he claimed that morning, still in bed with his face buried in the pillows and clad in a lovely fuchsia robe. They had been discussing the whole Blackbeard-or-Ed thing the night before after a glass of brandy. Stede suspected he was still feeling a little off-kilter.)
Stede had been contemplating hiring a couple of extra hands on deck. Maybe someone who could handle themselves in a fight. Stede loved his crew, let there be no debate about that. But even he could admit they weren’t always the most… efficient pirates. The current crewmembers actually useful in a raid were Ed, Jim, Fang, Ivan and, of course, Izzy.
Stede and the others were improving, but as a Captain he felt the responsibility of making sure his crew was safe and sound. If this required adding another member to their crew, then so mote it be. It was an option worth exploring.
After an extensive interview process, of course. He wouldn't accept just anyone on his – their – crew. Someone like Calico Jack, for example, was out of the question.
So when Stede saw the little stand advertising crew for hire he'd thought well, why not give it a try? But this interaction was not going as Stede expected. Not at all.
"Why, good sir, are you accusing me of being a liar?"
The man grunted. "Yes, you dipshit. First of all, Izzy Hands is Blackbeard's. Everyone knows that."
Stede sighed. He’d intended to leave Ed out of this, especially after their discussion yesterday. He didn’t want people applying for the job merely for the fame. But if Stede wouldn't be believed otherwise…
The grumpy man was still talking. "Second of all, if your first mate's actually Izzy Hands, I'll need some proof."
"Proof?” Stede frowned. “Is that standard procedure?"
The man rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Would take ages."
"Then why?"
"Because if word got out there’s a job under Izzy Hands I'd have the whole fucking town trying to apply."
Stede blinked. "What? No. Really? No. Why?"
The man looked at Stede like he was crazy, a lock of dirty ashen hair falling in front of his eyes. "Izzy Hands is the finest goddamn first mate out there, mate. He's been sailing longer than you or I have been alive. He's the best swordsman on the whole fucking seven seas. He has forgotten more about running a ship than the both of us put together will ever learn." The man scoffed. "People would kill to learn under him. Have, actually, especially with him being Blackbeard's."
Stede couldn't remember the last time he'd been so surprised. "Really? I thought…" he trailed off, not wanting to disrespect Izzy, even if the man was not around to hear it.
The salesman seemed to know what he was thinking and shrugged. "I mean, yeah, Blackbeard is the legend, the most fearsome pirate alive – but he didn't build that legend all by himself, mate. Every pirate worth his salt knows a captain is nothing without his first mate. And just like his captain, Izzy Hands is simply the best there is."
Stede could only nod, speechless.
"So if you're pulling this out of your ass, I'd clamp it shut real tight before I shove your head up there with it."
Stede felt a little unmoored. Even if he wanted to continue this, this – this process, it seemed he hadn't managed to avoid the fame issue after all. Not to mention Izzy would never debase himself by following Stede to a place like this.
The pirate took Stede’s silence as agreement. A mocking smile curled around his lips.
"Well, never mind all this anyway," Stede spluttered, trying not to give in to the coil of anger curling in his chest. He was no liar. Ed and he were co-captains. That meant Izzy was his as well.
Right?
The man wiggled his fingers in a derogatory good-bye.
"Good day," Stede spat as he turned around, stomping back to his ship, determined to put this whole thing behind him.
As the days went on, the grumpy pirate’s commentary lingered.
In idle moments Stede found himself studying Izzy. At first, he saw nothing unexpected. He watched as Izzy chewed out Frenchie for playing his lute instead of swabbing the main deck after rainfall. He heard Izzy fume at Lucius for 'doodling' instead of keeping the cargo log. He passed by Izzy explaining the rigging of the mainmast to a confused-looking Wee John with gritted teeth and unnecessary amounts of swearing.
But just as Stede was about to dismiss the grumpy man’s ramblings as a fluke, he noticed more.
He saw Izzy explaining the same riggings to Wee John the day after. There was just as much teeth-gritting and swearing as the day before, yet Izzy was still taking the time to explain and demonstrate. The confused look on Wee John's face had been replaced by a furrowed brow as he concentrated on tying the knots. When he finally managed to fix a part of the rigging, Izzy grunted something vaguely affirmative. A bit more positive feedback would have been appropriate here, in Stede’s opinion, yet Wee John practically glowed.
When Stede woke up before sunrise one morning and couldn't get back to sleep (which had nothing to do with the way Ed snored after he drank a little too much, of course not dear) he wandered up on deck to stare at the sea. The sun had barely risen. Stede expected to find nobody awake but Oluwande, who had the last dog watch.
Imagine his surprise when Stede stumbled upon Izzy and Jim, sparring. Jim had a knife in each hand, their grin sharp and wicked. Izzy's rapier glinted in the rays of the rising sun, his movements graceful like a dancer as he twirled and parried. A hint of a smile played on the usually gruff man's lips.
Stede quietly retreated below deck before either crewmember noticed him.
At story time that evening – Edward lazily stretched out next to him as Stede told the crew about the daring adventures of Hansel and Gretel – Izzy was absent. When Stede sent the crew off to bed, he gave Ed a kiss and nodded at him to go on. Stede made a cursory round of the ship, more on a whim than for any real reason.
As he rounded the corner towards the storage room, he ran into Izzy, who was clutching the inventory log in both hands.
Izzy stopped when he saw Stede, an expression of disdain on his face. "Finally done with story time, Bonnet? Every time I think you've reached the pinnacle of uselessness you manage to surpass yourself again."
Refusing to be baited, Stede hummed, clenching his jaw. "Story time is indeed finished, yes. I noticed your absence. You have been busy, I see?"
Izzy balled his fists. "Unlike the rest of you wankers I don't just laze around all day. Of course I have been fucking busy."
Stede bit back an instinctive response about the importance of free time, determined in his newfound resolution of figuring Izzy out.
At the lack of response, Izzy deflated. "We need to restock on cheese and raisins within the next week if you want to keep throwing fucking tea parties or whatever." The bite in Izzy's words was half-hearted.
"Thank you," Stede said on autopilot as he tried to figure out what bothered him about that statement.
Izzy pushed past him with a grunt and disappeared into the depths of the ship.
"Wait," Stede said into empty air, "I thought Lucius managed our supplies?"
When Stede crept into bed that evening his brow was furrowed.
Ed was already half-asleep, curled up in their bed in his lovely red robe. "Hmmm," he mumbled as Stede got under the blanket, "gimme kiss?"
Stede smiled fondly and leaned forward to peck Ed on the lips. Ed arched into the touch, sweet and playful as a kitten. Stede couldn't resist kissing him again, deeper this time. He put a hand in Ed's hair as they separated, playing with the strands. The furrow of his brow smoothed out, but his thoughts were still elsewhere.
"Stede, love, what's on your mind?"
Stede chuckled. "Can't hide anything from you, dear."
"Nope. Like the way you're avoiding the question."
Stede let himself fall back into the bed and stared up to the wooden planks above them. "It's Izzy," he sighed.
"Aha." A rustle of cloth as Ed righted himself. His eyes were sharp. "Iz has that effect on people."
Stede waved a hand in the air. "It's not like that."
"What did he do? Do I need to step in?"
"No, no, it's not something he did. It's something I did. Or didn't."
Ed hummed, waiting for Stede to gather his thoughts. After a minute Stede finally worked out what to say. "Izzy is a really capable first mate," he started.
Ed's brow rose. "Course he is. He's mine." The possession in his voice was surprisingly casual. Stede wondered how often he’d failed to pick up on it, before.
"Ours, now," Stede said. Ed hummed noncommittally. "And therein lies my problem. These past few days I realized I haven't exactly been treating Izzy as a part of the crew."
Ed shrugged. "Iz is weird like that. Grumpy, stand-offish, the uszh. Always has been. Not much to work with there."
Stede leaned on his elbows and met Ed's eyes straight on. "No offense, dear, but that's what they said about you as well." The Dread Pyrate Blackbeard, a monster feared across the seven seas. Unapproachable, unattainable, unlovable. How different would Stede's life have been if he ever paid any mind to those rumours?
"Huh. Guess you're right,” Ed said, frowning. “What's on your mind, then?"
"I think I’ll ask Izzy for feedback."
Ed stared at him.
Stede fidgeted. "About my captaining, I mean. I've asked all of the crew at some point or another. Though Izzy's… leadership style is as far removed from mine as can be," he worried aloud, he then brightened, "this only makes his feedback more valuable!"
The corners of Ed's mouth twitched. "You going to pet him on his head and call him a good boy?"
"That's an excellent suggestion, dear," Stede agreed, ignoring the sarcasm. "I should try to be nicer to our dear Izzy. I am the Gentleman Pirate, after all, and I've been remiss in living up to my name."
Ed barked out a laugh. "You're a fucking lunatic, mate," he said fondly and leaned in for a kiss. "I love it. I love you."
Even now, those words made something go warm and fuzzy inside his chest. "I love you too, dear."
The problem with Stede Bonnet was that he was too fucking nice.
Izzy trusted it as far as he wanted to throw the idiot. Which was overboard, if anyone cared to ask.
Bonnet's kindness did not belong on the sea. His soft clothes and fruity smells and unscarred hands – it was like Bonnet lived in another world. Like he was writing a romantic fairy-tale while the rest of them were trying to make it to the end of the page in their gritty survival novel.
The ponce even managed to infect Edward with his madness.
Izzy tried to accept that. Tried to accept that this was Edward's thing, for now, like all Edward's other fancies and temporary obsessions. He would be like this for a few weeks. Izzy would grit his teeth and endure. Eventually, Edward would grow bored, or offended, or simply obsessed with something new.
A new town to visit, a new bird to discover, a new kind of ship to raid. Blackbeard would move on, and Izzy would move on with him. Would pick up the pieces, find them a new crew, a new ship, a new place to lay their weary heads at night. And everything would go back to normal.
Only it had been months and Edward showed none of his usual signs of boredom. Worse, it seemed like he was only growing closer to Bonnet.
Like he was starting to forget Izzy.
So maybe Izzy had been a bit on edge, lately. Just a bit.
There were better days, in which Edward threw him a smile or slapped him on the back or simply looked at him. In which Izzy managed to tolerate the company of the very, very few idiots on this ship who were at least a little competent. In which the other lazy nitwits at least tried to fulfil their tasks and Izzy didn't lay awake at night with visions of their ship falling apart in a storm.
Then there were worse days. When Edward didn't even spare him a glance, when there were so many barnacles on the hull Izzy could barely see the wood, when the crew was even more disrespectful than usual.
This past week had consisted mostly of bad days. It had started deceptively well. Their raid on a Dutch merchant ship went smoothly, Edward and Izzy moving in tandem, Jim and Black Pete surprisingly competent.
But then Edward had disappeared into the bowels of the ship instead of joining them for their celebratory drinks. Worse, Bonnet had come up to him, clapped him on the shoulder, and said "Good work today, Izzy!"
"Don't touch me," Izzy had snarled, but Bonnet was already gone.
The rest of the week continued like that. Bonnet was being – annoying, idiotic, infuriating – nice.
It was one thing when Bonnet bothered his crew with his fucked up leadership style. (Izzy privately thought calling it a leadership style at all was positively generous.) Like when Bonnet complimented the scribe on his inspiring artwork' even though the boy had done fuck all that day. Or when Bonnet presented Jim with a beautifully carved knife he picked up somewhere on shore. Or when Bonnet spent over an hour listening to Mr. Buttons describe the intricate ritual of moon-bathing without tearing out his eyes.
These were things Izzy could handle. These things were part of the lunacy of the day-to-day life on the Revenge. They took place between Bonnet and his crew and had nothing to do with Izzy.
But then Bonnet started acting that way towards him.
If Izzy was forced (at gunpoint, or at least with a sword to his throat) to name one thing he appreciated about Bonnet it was that he left Izzy the fuck alone. Even though he and Bonnet were different as night and day, Bonnet left most of the ship's day-to-day business to Izzy (except for tutting at him to be nicer every once in a while, like Izzy was a fucking child).
Alas, like all other good things in his life, this too must come to an end.
It started like this.
The day after the raid, Izzy made his weekly report to his captain about their provisions. Bonnet was in the captain’s quarters as well, which tended to happen, unfortunately. The co-captains (the word still made Izzy shudder) had a far too elaborate discussion on cheeses before finally deciding on a port.
When Edward commanded him to set course for St. Davids, three days off, Izzy ignored the way the order made something purr inside of him with practiced ease.
(Edward gave him so very few orders these days.)
Edward finished speaking. Izzy nodded shortly, already turning around. But before he could leave, Bonnet opened his mouth.
"Thank you for keeping such a good eye on our supplies, Izzy." Izzy froze. Bonnet chuckled. "God knows how we would manage this Sunday's high tea without you!"
Izzy did not even turn to look at him, keeping his eyes on his captain. He was sure Edward could read the incredulity in his eyes.
Edward shrugged, eyes dancing. Just the way he is, Iz.
"Fuck off," Izzy muttered and stomped off.
The day after that Bonnet complimented him on the rigging of the mizzenmast, which Izzy had re-done that day. The day after that he praised him on his sharp eye when Izzy spotted a warship on the edge of the horizon (which they then luckily managed to avoid.) The day after that, his skill in haggling for supplies.
It was like Bonnet's life suddenly revolved around giving Izzy one single compliment each day. Izzy wanted to pull his hair out.
It all came to a head on Monday when Bonnet called Izzy to his quarters.
"Come in."
Stede tried not to let his nerves show as Izzy entered the captain's quarters. Ed lounged on the couch, watching, clad in his lovely purple shirt. They’d agreed he would keep out of this as much as possible. Stede was as much Izzy’s captain as Ed, and he needed to start acting like it.
"You called for me, captain?" Izzy’s eyes were solely on Ed.
Stede cleared his throat. "I did, yes. Please take a seat, Izzy."
Izzy glared at him, then at the chair. After a single moment he pivoted and reached for the door.
"Sit." Ed's voice was low and dangerous, laced with Blackbeard's lethality.
Izzy sat.
"Thank you," Stede said as if nothing had happened. "I called you here today to discuss something with you."
Izzy immediately tensed. "What's your problem now, Bonnet?” he sneered. “Not enough marmalade on deck? Did I use a bad word? Did I shout at your cute little crew too harshly when they were lazing around instead of doing their fucking jobs?"
Stede arched an eyebrow, a little surprised at the sudden hostility. None of his other crewmembers would've reacted so harshly to such simple words, like a hedgehog curling up in defence. "I shall not lie to you and say that I am very happy with the way you talk to my crew," Stede admitted because he was nothing if not honest, "but that was not what I wanted to discuss with you today."
Izzy bared his teeth like he’d only heard the first part of Stede's answer. "You are a fucking idiot, Bonnet."
For a single beat, Izzy paused. Usually, this was the point Ed would speak up, remind Izzy to behave. Izzy would grumble but obey, staying silent as Stede got to the point, stomping away, still grumbling, afterwards.
But today Edward stayed silent. He was spread out on the couch like a panther, watching them both with an unfathomable look in his eyes, yet he did not speak.
In the seemingly endless moment of calm before the storm Izzy's eyes flicked to Ed. Something unsettled passed over his face. If Stede hadn't been paying such close attention to their first mate, he would have missed it.
The moment passed. Izzy unfroze.
Unhindered by Ed’s disapproval, Izzy turned back to Stede. "This is not a game, Bonnet. This is about life and death. We are fucking pirates,” he snarled. “We could die literally every fucking day. A warship could bombard us. We could die of food poisoning. We could be becalmed for months, a storm could capsize us, the woodworms could break our ship in half, or any other single fucking threat that you barely acknowledge could kill us!" His fists clenched tightly, trembling with anger.
Stede kept silent.
His lack of response only seemed to wind Izzy up further. "And not only that, no, you treat your crew like goddamn children. Fucking story time? Vacation? A goddamn high tea? None of these fucking idiots know fuck-all about running a ship. How many of your shitty crew know anything about rigging? Who can assist in replacing the mainsail? Knows how to use a holystone? Have you even heard of careening? It's a goddamn miracle we haven't been killed in a raid yet, given most of the crew can barely hold a fucking sword."
Izzy’s chest heaved, face turning red, balled hands shaking. Yet alongside these expected signs of anger, a sense of unease seemed to creep up on the man, betrayed by the line of tension in his shoulders and the twitching of his brow.
Stede couldn’t quite pinpoint why, though. Whatever the reason, it didn’t prevent Izzy from continuing to spew.
"The only reason we haven't sunk to the bottom of the ocean is because I have been making sure these lazy bastards actually do something. Even then they barely listen half of the time! Frenchie never swabs the deck properly! Lucius barely even knows where the storage room is! The Swede still can't tell fucking west from east!" Izzy gestured wildly, spit flying from his lips.
Something in the way he moved reminded Stede of Alma throwing a tantrum. He crossed his arms and tapped his left foot twice, trying to keep his patience.
In the corner of his eye Stede noticed the way Ed tensed with each insult Izzy threw his way. By now, Ed’s body was pulled taut, and he was about to rise from his couch when he caught Stede's eye. Stede conveyed stay down as best as he could with his eyes.
Miraculously, Ed listened. He sunk back into the cushions, still looking ready to pounce. Luckily, Izzy was too caught up in his own rant to notice their little exchange.
"And you, Bonnet," Izzy shouted, "you have the fucking gall to tolerate their disobedience and laxness, as if this ship will just magically run all by itself! And then you have the godforsaken nerve to tell me off for keeping us all afloat, you fucker, you bastard, you goddamn–"
Izzy deflated, like a balloon which had run out of air. He blinked, coming back to himself. His eyes flickered to Ed, something like panic flashing across his face, before he turned back to Stede. Surprisingly, the panic did not lessen.
Stede, arms folded, simply raised an eyebrow. In his best stern father voice, the one he'd used whenever Alma was being particularly stubborn, he addressed Izzy.
"Are you done?"
Izzy stiffened. His face somehow reddened even further.
There was a beat of silence.
"Well?" Stede said calmly, disapproval lacing his voice.
"Uh," Izzy faltered, “I,” then fell silent.
"Wonderful," Stede said lightly. "I am glad to receive your feedback, Izzy. I think it's a wonderful idea to teach the crew the finer details of life at sea. Not all of them are as knowledgeable as you or Ed. Maybe I'll organise workshops," he mused aloud.
Izzy's mouth fell open. Ed ripped his gaze from where he’d been glaring at Izzy and stared at Stede, eyes wide and dark.
"I'll also take your argument concerning the crew slacking off under consideration. While I do believe in a healthy work-life balance, it is important to divide the work equally. And do not think I have missed you doing the lions’ share of the work around here, Israel."
Izzy closed his mouth, opened it, then closed it again.
Stede rose from his chair behind the desk and took a step forward. "Thank you for your input," he said, unable to keep a little bit of disapproval out of his voice about the way the input had been given. But Stede understood how different people communicated differently. He reminded himself about his recent resolution. "You are a very capable first mate and I am glad we have such an experienced pirate aboard the Revenge."
Stede stepped closer once more, running purely on instinct. If this was his daughter, this would be the moment he would give her a hug, but that didn't seem right.
Izzy stared into his eyes. This close, he had to tilt his head up to meet Stede’s gaze. The look in Izzy’s eyes was indecipherable.
"Thank you for giving me feedback on my captaincy. You did well," Stede said softly, not wanting them to leave on a bad note. But even he could recognize this conversation was better left closed, for now. "Dismissed."
Izzy blinked once, twice, jerking as if coming out of a trance. He clenched his jaw, gathered his usual anger around him like a shield, and took a step back.
"Yes, captain," Izzy bit out and then – there was no better word to describe it – fled.
Stede stared at the closed door, feeling a little off-kilter. "Well," he mused aloud, "that could have gone better." He perked up. "Although he did call me captain in the end," he brightened, turning around to face Ed. "Don't you think so, darling – woah!"
The next moment, Ed was on him, pressing him against the cabin wall and kissing him passionately. Stede needed a moment to return the kiss, surprised, but soon caught up with enthusiasm.
As Ed sank to his knees, Stede gasped for air. "Not that I don't enjoy this, Ed, but what brought this on?"
Ed's eyes gleamed. "Sometimes you don't realize how fucking hot you are, mate," he purred as he worked Stede's breeches open.
"What do you mean – ah!"
Soon, the line of conversation was forgotten altogether.