Chapter Text
Stede finds no greater pleasure in caring for people.
He’s always been inclined to be more on the cautious side, preferring reading and flower picking over any sort of physical altercations, and he supposes it had bled into his adult life, where he had dedicated so much time to simply playing with his children, whilst other fathers he knew sent their children off to schools and boarding houses and seemed to simply wipe their hands of them.
He had taken small pride in supplying his crew with a working wage, even despite their distinct lack of working, and was more than delighted when Izzy had finally opened up to him enough to let Stede care for him without pulling any knives out of his socks (which had happened far too many times to be any good for Stede’s heart).
The issue is- Izzy still isn’t really calling him anything.
Of course- he already has a name . Obviously. One that Izzy already calls him. Half the ocean knows it by now, Stede Bonnet - the wealthy aristocrat who suffered the worst midlife crisis on record and seduced the dread pirate to live a life at sea with him. And while he isn’t too fond of the ‘baby bonnet’ play on words, he’s perfectly content with the name he has.
It’s just- Izzy was supposed to give him a title (part of his heart constricts at the thought, the idea that he is demanding or deserving of Izzy’s free choices - the pang of guilt eats at him for longer than he’d care to admit), aside of course from Captain, or Bonnet, or twat (though he really doesn’t like the latter)
When he had first settled into his own soft persona in front of Stede, he had looked at Ed and only referred to him as ‘Baba’.
The display had been enough to thoroughly melt his heart (and then some), and he found himself suddenly without, suddenly lacking some new fundamental and essential need . He’d watched Ed and Izzy, the latter smiling and playing and laughing more than Stede had ever seen him, and that was to say that it had been the first. Ever.
Stede had almost been worried, as he’d watched on, that he might suffer a heart attack. The deep ache settled in his chest, nestled deep down inside his ribcage and sinking into his heart, reminding him that he wasn’t present in this moment, that this dynamic was exclusive to Edward and Izzy.
He’d long since graduated from that train of thought, Izzy had learned to be vulnerable and soft with him as well - which is far greater a thing coming from Izzy than anyone else - even going as far as to leave Ed to specifically be with him .
Izzy is tucked up beside him now, calmly laid out against the soft silk sheets and dressed only in an old pair of oversized breeches and one of Stede’s looser blouses, breathing softly as his eyes flicker open and closed in no particular pattern.
It is ridiculously hot today, leaving a solid sheen of sweat across each crew member's forehead, so much so that Ed had relieved the crew of any work before midday was close at all. Ed is currently sprawled out in Stede’s desk chair, rocking himself back and forth with a foot braced on the edge of the oak desk, dressed in nothing but his underwear. He fans himself with one of Stede’s thinner novels, some dreadful thing about men and politics - grumbling only occasionally about the heat trapped in their cabin.
Stede sits up in the bunk, beside the windows that are both opened as far as they go - almost parallel with the floor - reading peacefully as he tries to catch pieces of the lukewarm breeze.
Izzy isn’t asleep beside him, but seems to be making no effort not to be. He sighs occasionally, always followed by discontent wriggling around into a new position. He rubs the tips of his fingers idly over the silk bottom sheet, nuzzling his cheek into the pillowcase every other second in a way that makes Stede’s heart both sink and swell in one great movement, because how could this boy have gone so long without that even soft bedding seemed that of a luxury to him?
Stede can barely focus on his novel, drab as it may be, instead glancing over to Izzy beside him. He much would’ve preferred to have Izzy change into something more breathable, something that was preferably underwear, but Izzy had been firm on their agreement.
They had long since come to the decision that Izzy was entitled to wearing his bindings each day if only he were to take them off each night, something Izzy was incredibly stubborn about once the general consensus that his binding had to be healthy was made. Stede understands, as much as one without breasts can understand what it feels like to have them and wish to be without, and allows Izzy to continue wearing them, even when he looks to be unbearably hot. A deal is a deal, after all.
Izzy sighs once more, blinking out at the open windows as another wave of warm air falls down onto them.
Stede frowns, and pulls one hand away from where it grasps the base of his novel to brush over Izzy’s forehead, clearing the sweat slicked hair from his face.
Izzy’s lips twitch into a soft smile, and a small part of Stede bursts into butterflies as he remembers that until a few short months ago, this would have been unthinkable .
He smooths his hand down Izzy’s face, setting his hand on Izzy’s heat flushed cheek. “Hello.” He says, the small smile on his face evident in his tone.
“Hi.” Izzy breathes, still blinking tiredly with his face nestled in the silky fabric of the pillowcase. “Hi..”
“Are you going to fall asleep there, dear?” Stede laughs, brushing over Izzy’s cheeks with the tips of his fingers.
Izzy laughs slightly, the sound buried into the pillow, and pointedly doesn’t shake his head. He shifts his face across the cushion, feeling the cool fabric slide against his skin, and lets his eyes flutter closed.
“Don’t let him fall asleep,” Ed calls, eyes still closed where he is reclined back on Stede’s desk chair, balancing precariously on its back two legs, “He gets grumpy.”
“Fuck off.” Izzy mumbles, fumbling his hand into a crude middle finger toward Edward behind him.
“Oi!” Stede prods at Izzy’s shoulder. “Mind your language, please.” He at least tries to look somewhat disappointed by Izzy’s language, but is in tough competition with Ed, who is guffawing from the rocking desk chair and almost slipping out of the damn thing and cracking his head on the floor.
The man’s laughing is interrupted as the chair beneath him begins to wobble and rock on its two back legs. His loud cries of ‘Fuck shit fuck oh fuck!’ send Izzy into spirals of laughter, giggling as he cranes his neck to watch Ed wobble about.
Stede rolls his eyes, because of course Ed would curse that much when there’s a baby in the room, but doesn’t even try fighting his smile at the sound of Izzy’s laughter. Izzy doesn’t laugh much, not at all really, but when he does it’s so light and airy, bounces off the walls and makes Stede wonder if big Izzy and small Izzy are even the same two people. So, he lets him laugh.
Ed does eventually manage to steady himself, gripping the edge of the desk with one hand and lowering the front half of the chair to the ground. He lets the chair thunk against the ground in his rush to stabilise himself. Izzy’s giggles begin to tamper out, calming as the fun has finished. He settles in a new position, sprawled on his back with his head fixed towards Edward.
“Hi, buddy,” Ed says, waving over to Izzy, “You still warm over there?”
Izzy nods, a small and solemn frown slipping onto his face.
Ed frowns. “Sorry about that, Iz,” He sighs, leaning back in the chair and waving himself with the worn book, “Thought the window would help a bit.”
“S’okay, Baba.” Izzy mumbles, rubbing at his eyes with his balled up fist. The night before had been a terror, with Izzy struggling to both fall and stay asleep and subsequently keeping up Stede in the process.
“It is helping a tad.” Stede says to Ed, poking one hand out of the opened window and letting the warm breeze blow over his fingers. “It’s just a very hot day, isn’t it, Israel?”
Izzy turns back to face Stede and nods solemnly, as though he were discussing battle strategy or cost efficiency rather than the weather. “Very hot.”
Izzy nestles closer to Stede as the man’s fingers card through his hair, closing his eyes against the gentle gust of breeze hitting his flushed skin. Stede hums, understanding’s Izzy’s discomfort in the sweltering heat, and traces circles with his thumb over Izzy’s temple.
The boat rocks gently from where they’re anchored, stopped over beside a teal lagoon so as to keep the ship cool beneath the shadow of the nearby cliffs, and allow the crew some free time on the sands that separated the lagoons from the sea. A few crewmembers had set out this morning, and Izzy would normally be almost mortified by the idea of a vacation , but currently finds himself far too comfortable under Stede’s hand to even bother worrying about it.
Stede watches as Izzy’s eyes slowly stop blinking and settle in their closed state. He sighs, because Izzy had already slept in this morning, and definitely did not need another nap anytime soon, but doesn’t peel his loving hand from his temple.
The silence grows weary, as Izzy’s breathing begins to soften and slow and the small lapping waves clap against the sides of the ship beside the window, and Stede sighs again, as he remembers the heat that he cannot escape and the utter distaste for the bland paperback he’d picked out just before he’d attempted to settle down with Izzy.
“Is he asleep then?” Ed asks, keeping his voice down in the stark silence, looking up from where he’s been using one of Stede’s many quills to paint ink across the back of his hand and the surrounding fingers.
“Yeah.” Stede breaths, looking up to meet Edward’s eyes across the room. “I suppose he needs it.”
Edward scoffs as he resumes swiping ink against his skin. “Yeah, as if.” he laughs.
Stede rolls his eyes fondly, “Well, my love, I suppose it’s better than him having to deal with the heat, yes? This way he’ll sleep right through it.”
Ed’s face twists into a smile, the tiny kind where he tries to stick it back in it’s place but it won’t budge, the way he smiles whenever Stede says something he finds endearing. “Sure, I guess. Beats the whining.”
“Oh hush!” Stede admonishes, and Ed giggles. “He doesn’t whine, Edward, you do.”
Ed squawks indignantly, drawing the quill away from his skin in a jarred movement that splashes the dark colour across his belly and chest. “I do not whine! And he does so whine, did you forget last night when you tried to convince him to go to sleep 15 minutes before usual?”
Stede waves a dismissive hand in Edward’s direction. “Ah well, I suppose he does, but it’s not any trouble, is it?”
“To you , maybe.” Ed mutters, feigning indignity when Stede sends him a rather rude gesture with the back of his first two fingers. “Oh, good god!” he cries, voice in a warbling high pitch as he fans himself.
“You’re ridiculous.” Stede laughs, quietly shaking his head as he watches Ed resume in delicately spreading ink across his scarred brown skin.
“And you love it. ” Ed dips his voice into a husky murmur, wiggling his eyebrows fast enough to blur the movement altogether, making Stede laugh into the heel of his hand to keep from jostling Izzy.
“I suppose I do.” He says, sighing contentedly as he feels Izzy turn over and bury himself in his thigh.
The day moves through them slowly, the heat surrounding them like molasses, clinging to them despite the breeze dipping through the opened windows. The sun finds its place above them, bringing with it the high of the heat as the clock strikes midday.
Ed had grown bored of inking his skin, swathed in bands of blue and black that spiralled up his arms and fingers, and had tried to crawl into bed beside Izzy, but instead had Stede squawking at him over spreading fingerprints of ink across their ivory bedding and sending him to wash up.
Ed comes back into the cabin, arms and stomach splashed with water droplets that hadn’t quite been captured by the towel he’d used to dry off, and pads up to the side of the bunk to lean over and press a soft kiss against Stede’s temple.
“Welcome back.” Stede hums, tilting his head up to meet Ed’s eyes with a gentle smile.
“Am I finally allowed in my bed?” Ed asks jovially, snickering as Stede rolls his eyes and slipping onto the mattress beside the sleeping boy between them.
Izzy whines as he’s jostled by Ed, burrowing closer to Stede and snuffling into the silk pillowcase.
“Shh, buddy, it’s just me,” Ed whispers, wrapping a cool arm around Izzy, the boy leaning into the touch of the damp skin, “Is it too hot for a cuddle, Iz?”
“No…” Izzy mumbles into the fabric of Stede’s loose breeches, reaching an arm back to tug at Ed until he’s pressed flush against his back, feeling his chest bounce with laughter.
“You’re not too cranky at all, are you?” Stede coos, brushing the dark strands of damp hair out of Izzy’s face as he blinks into consciousness. “Not at all like Baba said, huh? Not at all!”
Izzy leans up into Stede’s touch with a gentle hum, Stede flattening his hand over Izzy’s forehead and gently brushing over his damp skin.
Stede thinks back to before, back to only a few months ago where such touch would be so greatly unwelcomed, where Izzy would flinch at any touch from Stede or any other crewmember aside from Ed.
He remembers the first time he’d seen Izzy like this, found clutched in Ed’s arms as he shook and whimpered as Ed looked up at him, so utterly panicked . Izzy had been so afraid, more timid than Stede had ever witnessed a man be before. He’d trembled under Stede’s touch, as gentle as it may have been, cowered each time Stede had dared look at him.
It came as no surprise that Izzy was insecure, that he was shy when he was all but forced to display this gentle and soft side of himself, but it had almost winded Stede when he came to realise just what that meant for izzy, how frightening it was for him to even sit beside Stede when he dipped into that smaller space.
Stede watches him now, watches his eyelids flicker open and shut as he breathes in and out into the fabric of Stede’s pants, traces his fingers over the tanned skin of his cheekbones.
Izzy huffs as Stede’s soft touch tickles his cheek, moving his head back to fit under Ed’s chin, who giggles in triumph as he tightens his hold on Izzy.
Stede wonders to himself, in a dark little corner of his mind, if Izzy really is as comfortable with Stede as Stede thinks he is.
It would make sense, he supposes, if Izzy had felt pressured to interact with Stede because of his and Ed’s relationship.
That wouldn’t explain the extent of Izzy’s comfort, the cuddling and the sharing a bed and the bathing and the feeding, all without complaint. Izzy’s curled up against him right now, or at least- he was before he’d pressed himself right back into Ed’s arms.
He does worry, and with a serious amount of guilt, that Izzy has only grown to touch and converse with him purely because Ed wants him to . Izzy has proven himself that he will act and do as Ed pleases, to a great extent. His softer side is so much more vulnerable, so much more open, so desperate for Ed to like him, to want him, to be proud of him, and a shameful part of Stede so convictiously sure that this soft Izzy would most definitely submit himself to Stede’s affections for Ed’s praise.
Izzy has come a long way though, even outside of his softness, in his interactions with the crew. He scoffs less at Stede’s suggestions, speaks softer to the crew, even had Lucius sent water out of his own nose after returning his flirting with some rather vulgar sexual suggestions - the entire crew had found that more than amusing.
He’d formed a habit of eating with the captains, of conversing over topics that were in a completely different realm to the ship, eating and drinking sweet foods that dawdled well outside of his rationed salted meats and water. He’d leaned into Stede’s touch, brushed arms without flinching, laughed at his jokes and smiled up at him, no snark buried behind the action.
It feels selfish to assume that it's all false, that it’s all some act, some ruse , because Izzy had genuinely worked hard on himself, had stepped out of his hard little shell and bared himself to the world, but how could he know? How can Stede be sure that Izzy actually likes him if he distances his affections for Stede so far from that of his for Edward?
He hears them talk, Ed mumbling coos and sweet things and Izzy responding with sleepy nods and whines.
He reaches out again, brushes the back of his finger over the curled edge of Izzy’s earlobe as he watches the boy’s eyes flutter closed.
“Ni-night, baz,” Ed murmurs into the shell of his ear, “I love you, babes.”
Izzy wriggles down, shifting enough for Ed to press kiss after kiss on his dark mop of hair. “Love you too, Baba.” He sighs sleepily, cheek pressed into the silk pillow.
Here it is , Stede thinks to himself, I’m giving him the perfect moment, to prove it, to say it .
“I love you, sweet sleepy thing.” Stede hums, watching Izzy and trying to keep any amount of expectation out of his features.
“I love you too..” Izzy breathes, already asleep in Ed’s arms as his breathing begins to pace and even out.
Stede waits, waits for more, waits for a name , but it doesn’t come. His face falls, and he distracts himself by pressing one last kiss to Izzy’s temple.
Ed catches his eye as he pulls away, sends him a strange look with a furrowed brow and lips tilted into a frown, asking silently, What’s wrong? Why do you look sad?
He sends a sad little smile back, biting back the sigh billowing in his chest. It’s fine , he hopes his little smile says. Don’t worry about it .
It seems to translate, because Ed sends him a big dopey smile as he tightens his hold on the sleeping Izzy between them, cuddling closer and burying his nose in the greying hair.
Stede turns over, rolls onto his back and lets the stifled breeze wash over him.
The guilt doesn’t go away. It’s everpresent. He wonders what he’s doing wrong, why it isn’t coming , because telling yourself that these things aren’t linear loses its effect after a few days.
He supposes he’ll just have to wait.