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Stede Bonnet would be the death of them all, Izzy Hands had concluded.
The so-called Gentleman Pirate had made his grand reappearance two weeks ago after a blissful three months of sailing Bonnet free, like a parasite that was determined to suck the life out of his very soul. Of course, Edward had instantly welcomed the other man back aboard after a brief clash of swords and tongues, much to Izzy’s dismay.
It wasn’t right. Bonnet had immediately settled back into an all too comfortable routine of marmalade sandwiches in the morning, pirating in the day, and God knows what with Edward in the evening. In retaliation, Izzy had come up with a little plan; drug the twat’s tea with some flower he’d picked up at the last trading outpost, and watch as he made a complete fool of himself in front of the entire crew.
It was supposed to be a bit of light-hearted fun, a way to teach Bonnet that he shouldn’t get too comfortable aboard the revenge after what he’d done. Edward was off on business ashore, giving him a perfect opportunity to execute his little plan. If he had his way, his captain would never find out about his scheme, purely because Bonnet would be too humiliated to inform him about it.
The only issue was that the mostly innocent, if a little dubious prank had very rapidly turned into a full-blown waking nightmare.
He had brought the tea up to the captains’ quarters, feigning innocence as he pretended to extend an olive branch to Bonnet in his co-captains’ absence. Bonnet, being the unassuming prick that he was, gladly accepted, offering Izzy a seat opposite under the evening sun. They’d talked for a while, about upcoming raids, about Edward, about how this had probably been the longest conversation they’d ever had.
Then, Stede’s demeanor had begun to shift. His usual eccentric mannerisms seemed to become even more erratic, pupils reducing to pinpricks as he practically bounced across the room towards the bookshelf.
“Do you think Ed will bring back some new ones from the port?” he’d asked, voice laced with excitement as he pulled a book from the shelf, accidently throwing two more to the floor.
Izzy had taken that as his que to leave, muttering a brief “see you on deck” under his breath as he left the room, door strategically ajar. It wouldn’t be long before Bonnet ventured upstairs to pull some sort of fuckery with the other crewmates, slotting the final piece of his plan into place.
And so, he waited.
And waited.
But after 30 minutes, he began to wonder if Bonnet had somehow managed to fall and knock himself out. It wouldn’t be the first time the idiot had caused himself bodily harm in the few months he’d known him.
Which lead him back to his current predicament of stalking towards the captains’ quarters, face twisted into an ugly scowl.
“Bonnet? Where the fuck are you?”
It was eerily silent in the cabin, save for the sound of creaking floorboards and gentle waves lapping against the ship’s hull. At first glance, it seemed as if Bonnet had left the room after all, but then he noticed an all to familiar pair of legs sticking out from behind one of the bookshelves. He almost tripped over as he turned the corner, the sight before him causing his heart to sink in his chest.
Stede, who was usually all composure down to the finest of details, was curled up in front of him, rocking back and forwards amongst dozens of scattered books, their pages carelessly ripped from their spines. It didn’t take long for Izzy to realise he was crying too, silent tears rolling down puffy cheeks as hands clawed at sandy hair.
“Make them stop…Izzy please…make them stop…”
“Make who stop? Bonnet there’s nobody else here…”
“Nigel…Chauncey…Edward…”
So, Bonnet was hallucinating then. Maybe he’d used to much of the powder in the tea, or perhaps the other man’s tolerance simply wasn’t that of a usual pirate.
“…I know, I know…I defile beautiful things…maybe you’re right…they would be better off if I were dead…”
Wait, what?
This, absolutely, was not what Izzy had intended. He had expected Stede to make a fool of himself whilst experiencing an unprecedented euphoric high, not crash into the depths of whatever fucked up thoughts were running though his mind.
God, he was so fucking stupid. Edward was going to kill him, actually kill him, yet somehow, he still found himself more concerned about the man in front of him as opposed to his own inevitable demise.
He leaned forwards carefully, unsure of how to approach the trembling man. In the end he placed his hand under Stede’s chin, gently tilting his head up so he could meet his eyes.
“Bonnet…Stede look at me, there is nobody else in the room”
It was immediately obvious that Stede wasn’t really seeing him, eyes glassy and unfocused as he stared into the vacant space behind him.
“But he’s right behind you Izzy…there’s so much blood…I can’t… I can’t get it off…”
It was with horror then that he noticed the scratch marks lining the other man’s arms. They were mostly superficial, but a couple were bleeding slightly where the nails had dug deeper. Sighing deeply, he couldn’t help but pull Stede into a gentle hug, unsure of how else to approach the situation. He wasn’t usually one for physical contact, but just this once he was going to make an exception, given that it was his own fucking fault they were in this mess in the first place.
He secured his hands behind Stede, lifting the other man into an awkward bridal carry before depositing him on the bed, sheets haphazardly pulled across his chest. Carefully, he selected a promising looking ointment from the bedside table, smearing it across the wounds decorating Stede’s arms before lightly bandaging them to prevent further damage.
Content he’d done everything in his power to make the other man comfortable, he settled into a wooden chair beside the bed, locking the door first to prevent any unwanted intrusions. Bonnet was mostly silent now, save for the occasional twitch and whimper in his half-conscious state.
“Fuck Stede, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just…”
He paused, watching his crewmates chest rise and fall in an almost peaceful rhythm, thanking whatever god was listening that his captain’s lover hadn’t had a more fatal reaction to his meddling.
“It’s just, seeing you with Edward, after everything you did to him…”
He stopped himself, hand coming up to massage the area above his tattoo as a single tear formed in his eyes.
“I guess I…never mind. Go to sleep Bonnet, I promise you’ll feel better in the morning”
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He woke up some hours later, the dappled light of sunrise just beginning to stain the oak floorboards. Leaning forwards to rub his eyes, he found his back suddenly protesting to spending the night in a chair, courtesy of his age no doubt. He was surprised to find that Stede was already awake, a pair of reading glasses perched upon his nose and one of his fancy robes draped from his shoulders.
“Here, thought you might like a cup of tea. Don’t worry, I promise I haven’t drugged it!” he said, voice cheery as ever as his tapped the table besides him.
“Thanks, I guess” he grunted, sitting up straighter to take the teacup into his hands.
“How much do you remember from yesterday?”
Better to get it over with rather than dragging it out until Edward finally got back.
Send himself to doggy heaven.
“Enough to know that your actions weren’t truly malicious, just a little misguided… and maybe a little stupid”
Izzy sighed, looking out to sea before asking the inevitable. “I assume you’ll be informing Edward of my little stunt?”
Both of them knew the truth, if Ed ever found out about this, Izzy would be walking the plank for the final time. It was the perfect opportunity for the Revenge to be rid of him once and for all, an arrangement he was certain Stede would find too appealing not to take advantage of.
Yet when he looked back at the Gentleman Pirate, he found he was met with a curious expression; a sympathetic glimmer behind glass framed eyes. “I won’t tell if you don’t…”
He let out a short laugh of barely masked relief. The other man’s ability to forgive and forget was an undeniably naïve, yet utterly valuable trait. Grudges out on the open sea got you killed, and having a person around to talk down a crew that would rather act first and think later would likely mean that the Revenge would live a long a profitable life.
Maybe, just maybe, they could learn to be friends after all.