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“Iz, come on, don’t be such a bore,” Ed whines in that tone he knows always gets under Izzy’s skin.
“Edward, just go. With you lot gone, it’s the only time I can do inventory without someone bugging me…” Izzy looks up from the pile of parchment on his desk to see a cocky glint in Ed’s eye.
“You can do inventory on the beach! Stede is always looking for new species of clams or seagrass or whatever, you can help him take notes!” Ed briefly wonders what cruel twist of fate has burdened him with not one but two boyfriends with a passion for listmaking.
“It would be such a good bonding opportunity for the crew. Pretty please?” Stede chimes in and now there are two pairs of puppy dog eyes aimed at the first mate. Great. Izzy sighs and puts the heavy whale paperweight on his ledgers. Resistance against his captains is futile.
Ed whoops and hollers, stripping and scattering his leathers across the floor as he runs up on deck. He climbs the railing and shouts “Cannonball!”, flinging himself into the clear turquoise waters of the little bay where the rest of the crew are already splashing about.
“He is a child,” Izzy states coolly, as he and Stede prepare a dinghy to actually get some supplies over to the beach. Stede hums in agreement, not missing the fond twitch of Izzy’s mouth and the faintest hint of relief in his tone. It’s good to see Ed like this, they both know better than to take it for granted.
They row in silence, watching Ed’s playful banter with the crew, laughing and jumping off low rocks.
“Was he more like that, when you were young?” Stede finally asks, hesitant. “Sometimes,” Izzy replies wistfully - it’s easier this way and Stede knows enough to get it, he hopes.
Or else, how can he explain that Ed has been both the same man and a dozen different people throughout their lifetimes, each one a stranger to Izzy at first and someone he found himself hopelessly longing for after a while. Decades of coming together and drifting apart. Stede nods.
When they drag the boat to shore in bare feet and rolled-up trousers, Ed is already sprawled on the pebbles, buck naked, a white layer of salt drying on his skin. Izzy throws him a towel.
“Have some modesty, you’re still their captain.”
Ed wraps it around his waist, snickering.
“You could do with a little less modesty yourself. This is a vacation, not a funeral.”
Izzy grumbles, retires further back into the shade of a palm tree, and starts fidgeting with his ring as he watches his captains - partners, he reminds himself, still somewhat incredulously.
Stede gets undressed, or rather tries to, as Ed toying with the frills on his sleeves like a playful kitten is proving quite the disruption. Soon, they are lying on top of each other, shirtless and giggling, one dark and tattooed, one sun-kissed and freckled and frankly gorgeous, both of them.
“Izzy, will you please distract Edward so I can go swimming?” Stede calls over in feigned exasperation.
“Just show him a shiny rock or something,” Izzy retorts drily.
“Shiny rock? Where??” Ed goes along with it and then they are laughing again, chests heaving against each other.
Izzy curses his black attire, wants nothing more than to shed the stifling layers as well, but the eyes of the crew all around make him wary. He’s gone soft - in more ways than one. Once lithe and wiry, life on the Revenge has been rather more nurturing than anything he has ever known, and it shows.
It doesn’t help that his partners are both such sights to behold, either. Sure, they are all not young men anymore. Even Ed has a bit more padding around the middle than the half-starved boy Izzy once knew, the sparse smattering of chest hair now more gray than black, but it suits him.
And Stede - still as handsome as the day Izzy cut his shirt to ribbons. Even more so perhaps, with the new muscles brought on by sword practice and actually learning to climb the rigging. How could Izzy not feel less than attractive between these two men? What could they possibly see in him?
“Ok, captain’s orders, we’re all going in the water now,” Ed announces. Obviously, he’s seen the way Izzy fumbles with his tie, fully aware of his hesitant stalling, though maybe not of the reason behind it.
“Oh wonderful! But please don’t get my hair wet. Ocean water is absolute hell on it.” Stede runs a hand through his golden waves and Ed bursts out laughing, his own hair already a waxy, tangled mess of salt and bits of seaweed.
“Some pirate you are, Bonnet,” Izzy can’t help but tease. When was the last time his own hair didn’t have salt in it? He likes the feeling of it, and the way it keeps its shape even in the wind.
He looks around to see Lucius and Pete napping on the beach, Jim and Olu splashing each other in the shallow water, the Swede and Frenchie watching them while singing raunchy shanties, Buttons talking to a cormorant, and Wee John and Roach trying to open coconuts with gunpowder a safe distance away.
No eyes on Izzy. Fuck it, he thinks, and starts to undress. He feels vulnerable without the black, and even more so unarmed. Too visible. Too human. Too chubby and hairy and short and…
“Izzy come on in, it’s lovely!” Stede calls, water already up to his waist, Ed swimming circles around him.
The ocean is cool at first, making goosebumps erupt all over Izzy’s body, but he soldiers on in, gritting his teeth, eager to hide under the gentle waves. When his head dips below the surface, he is immersed in the sound of clinking pebbles and shifting sand. It’s immediately calming.
He joins his partners where the sea is just shallow enough for them to stand, but too deep for Izzy. Ed notices him treading water and slips an arm around him, lifting him up. Izzy rests his head on Ed’s shoulder, his skin there still hot from the sun, and floats for a moment, weightless.
Stede joins them, slotting his limbs in between theirs like they have always belonged there, trailing a finger over Izzy’s chest that leaves shiny droplets clinging to his hair. He places a kiss on the swallow on Izzy’s neck and Ed does the same with the cross under his eye.
Ed’s arm snakes around Izzy’s belly, fingers digging into the new, softer flesh there as he draws him closer. Izzy is tempted to flex, suck in, do anything to protect his dignity, but then Ed’s mouth is at his ear, his breath making him shiver.
“You’re gorgeous, Iz. You know that, right?” Ed whispers.
Izzy can’t find any words to respond before Stede starts nipping and sucking at his neck in agreement and he has to stifle a moan against Ed’s cheek.
“Get a room, you three! Or at least have the decency to let me sketch whatever is happening there…” Lucius teases from the shore.
Stede and Izzy blush at the insinuation, but Ed - ever shameless - just snickers.
“What the boy doesn’t know is that we’re old farts and this water is freezing. Nothing is what’s happening here.” With that, they swim back to shore to dry off and eat, now ravenous after the exertion.
The captains feed Izzy with dried fruit and cheese and he lets them, licking the sticky residue of dates and figs off their salty fingers. After a while, he realizes he never put his black shirt back on - he surprises himself when he decides against it and opts for a nap instead.
Izzy wakes to a warm, heavy feeling on his stomach. He opens his eyes to see Ed piling pebbles around his navel in an intricate spiral pattern.
“Having fun there?” he asks, still groggy.
“Got bored, Stede fell asleep too,” Ed sighs, adding more pebbles, and Izzy smiles at his old dramatic ennui.
Izzy sits up, destroying the artful rock spiral in the process - the smooth stones tickle as they slide off his sun-warmed skin. They inch over to where Stede is napping in the shade. Ed runs a finger over Stede’s arm, gently collecting the salt crystals tangled in his golden hair.
Almost on instinct, Izzy places an apologetic palm over the scar he put on the left side of Stede’s belly - fading but still visible, still shiny and raised.
“How come you don’t have one of those?” Stede mumbles, waking up and running a hand across Izzy’s noticeably unmarked stomach.
“Comes with being the best damn swordsman in the Caribbean, is all,” Ed answers for him. And maybe it’s true? Or it used to be, a long time ago. In any case, Izzy has won more fights than he lost, and surprisingly few opponents have ever managed to leave their mark on him in a duel.
But the fact that Ed is decorated with so many more tattoos and battle scars than his first mate speaks to their difference in temperament more than their fighting prowess. Edward has always been headstrong and impulsive, lashing out at armed enemies and the dreaded monotony alike.
In contrast, after the bloodthirst of his youth burned itself out, Izzy has grown to be calculated and precise, maybe too much in his own head sometimes, but less scarred for it. Izzy’s back is a whole different matter - lashings, stabbings and bullets have all left their marks there, most of them meant for Edward.
As though reading his mind, Ed runs a finger over one of the deeper whip scars on Izzy’s shoulder before pulling him backwards and pinning him to the floor. Ed’s lips find the left side of his belly and suck a little red bruise there while Izzy squirms at the ticklish sensation.
“There, now you got one too!” Ed chuckles.
“You’re an idiot,” Izzy replies lovingly.
Ed responds by blowing a raspberry against Izzy’s stomach. Stede laughs at the display, leans over and kisses them both in turn - on Izzy’s new bruise, Ed’s chest, Izzy’s clavicle, Ed’s neck, Izzy’s mouth…
As the sun sets blazing red on the horizon, most of the crew row back to the Revenge to have dinner and patch up minor injuries - Roach has managed to singe off his eyebrows (and open a total of zero coconuts), Pete got pinched by a crab, and the Swede has a rather impressive sunburn.
Izzy and the captains stay behind on the beach, gathered around where they have built a little bonfire. Ed pokes at the flames with a stick, trying to roast a fish he caught. Izzy is lying on his back, watching the night sky, Stede’s head resting comfortably on his belly, listening to his tales about the constellations. After successfully finding Orion’s Belt on the third try, Stede turns to Izzy.
“Do you regret not staying on the ship today?”
Izzy smiles up at the stars, feels the soft curls on his skin and the cooling pebbles under his back, smells smoky fish and hears Ed muttering swears as his stick catches fire.
“No, Captain. I don’t think I do.”