Chapter Text
*
The deep purple dinner jacket was a good look on Edward. The velvet had taken Izzy the better part of an hour to lint roll to perfection, but the rich, even colour of it looked good even under the harsh kitchen downlights.
What a pity Edward seemed hell bent on ruining the whole ensemble.
“It’s a black tie event,” Izzy said, hating how the sentence came out like a whine, “Edward, please-”
“Yeah, a black tie event where I’m the guest of honour,” said Edward, taking a sip from a cup of coffee that had to be mostly cold by now.
“Which means-”
“Which means I get to set some new trends tonight. I hate collars Iz, they’re fuckin’... tight around my neck.”
Izzy, who wore a tie snug around his neck every day for that exact reason, declined to comment further on this.
“Besides, I think it looks nicer without, don’t you think?”
Edward’s hair was piled into a bun on the back of his head, with a few loose strands teased out to frame his face. The black shirt he wore under the jacket opened to expose the line of his throat, where the glint of a silver chain and the top of his tattoo peeked out from the top of his chest.
It depended what Edward meant by “nicer.” To Izzy, he looked downright indecent.
“I just don’t think you should-”
“Izzy. Izzy Izzy Izzy.”
Edward patted him on the back, and Izzy bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.
“I know what I’m doing, alright?”
Izzy nodded tersely, not trusting himself to speak.
At that moment, a knock on the door signalled that the driver was here, and that Izzy was, thankfully, freed from the ordeal of having to think up any more responses.
Ten or so years ago, he might have pressed the matter. Ten or so years ago, Edward probably still needed him.
Best not rock the boat lest he lose what precious little he still had here.
“Don’t wait up,” called Edward.
Izzy didn’t reply. They both knew it was a stupid thing to say.
*
The rest of the night passed fairly quietly. Izzy tidied the house, out of fastidiousness more than the place needing to be cleaned. Edward’s mother had been a housekeeper, and the man at least knew not to leave his shit everywhere for other people to pick up.
Still, laundry needed doing, shelves needed dusting, and expensive plush carpets needed vacuuming. It was work Izzy enjoyed, quiet and soothing and repetitive, allowing him to drift off while he commandeered the expensive sound system to play some of his old jazz records.
All in all, nights where Edward went out tended to be pleasant enough.
The wee hours of the morning found Izzy nodding off at the dining table with some old paperback western propped up against his glass of orange juice. He caught himself listing forwards, but then sat up with a jolt as the door slammed open to loud laughter.
There it was, then.
“Check it out! Oh, Izzy must still be up.”
“Who’s Izzy?”
“Oh, he’s my - uh-”
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a butler? ”
The accent was interesting. Another kiwi, then.
“He’s more of a personal assistant.”
“An assistant who lives here? That’s a butler.”
“Izzy’s not-”
Izzy put down his book and quietly eased himself away from the table. Edward would want wine sent upstairs, sleep clothes for the both of them, toiletries, snacks - and from the sounds of things, it would be better if the two of them did so undisturbed.
“Christ, you know what though, he loves this old jazz shit. Hold on, let me just-”
Izzy winced at the scratching sound of Edward lifting the needle off the record.
“What do you prefer to listen to then?”
“D’you wanna see my record collection? You can pick something out if you want.”
“Oh, I’d love that.”
Izzy sneered at the sound of hookup number one thousand and three’s simpering voice.
“ I’d love that!” he mimicked to himself.
He grabbed a couple of bottles of champagne and shovelled some ice into a bucket, and was treading as softly as he could in order to get up the stairs when suddenly he heard a burst of unfamiliar laughter.
“Ed, he’s wearing a little tuxedo !”
Izzy felt his face heat up, and made an effort to stand up a little straighter as he shot Mr Hookup a glare. The two of them were indeed browsing the shelves of Edward’s record collection, and Izzy didn’t miss the fact that Edward seemed to have gotten rid of the jacket entirely, or the fact that his hair had been taken out of its bun and now spilled down his shoulders and back, somehow careless yet elegant at the same time, or the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned so far down his chest at this point he might as well bite the bullet and take the whole thing off.
All this he took in, enough that Mr Hookup passed him by in a blur of teal three piece suit and was he wearing pearls ?
It didn’t matter. Izzy had work to do.
He set up the bedroom the same way he did all of Edward’s one night stands, discreetly checking the bedside drawer for condoms and lube and god knows what else Ed liked to supplement his sex drawer with (Izzy never liked to let himself linger long there; his imagination ran quite wild enough without the torture of reality thank you very much).
Satisfied that the room was properly set up and that the two tipsy men downstairs were well on their way to the bedroom, Izzy yawned and made his way down the hall to his own room.
He divested himself of his uniform slowly, hanging coat, waistcoat, tie, and trousers on a dedicated hanger by the door and throwing his shirt and undershirt in the laundry basket. Edward and Hookup’s chatter faded into an unintelligible murmur in the background, and Izzy allowed himself to sigh and relax, out of earshot and sight. He pushed his fingers through his hair, digging at the headache he hadn’t realised had started to form.
He pulled on his pyjamas, a soft cotton set in a blue tartan. It was an indulgence he’d never let anybody else see - pyjamas that were slightly too big for him, so that the sleeves fell over his wrists and the cuffs of the bottoms fell to below his ankles. He held the sleeves to his face and inhaled, enjoying the smell of clean laundry and Edward’s lavender scented laundry detergent.
This was nice. Hookup’s comments aside, it was a nice night.
He was jolted out of the pleasant feeling of comfort by the sound of INXS blaring through the walls.
Devil inside, devil inside, every single one of us the devil inside-
Izzy had earplugs for times like these. He’d bought them in a fit of desperation one night when Edward had had three people over and all of them had insisted on blasting his Iron Maiden records until his alarm went off at six in the morning… but he’d never been able to bring himself to use them. Every time he put them in, the gnawing feeling of what if scratched at him until he gave up and suffered through whatever inane party behaviour was going on downstairs.
Izzy lay on his bed and listened to the rest of the album, trying to convince himself to enjoy it, until finally, finally, the two men made their way, giggling and stumbling, upstairs.
“Does he make your bed as well?”
“You know Stede, people usually think it’s really cool that I’ve got a butler.”
“So you admit it then!”
“Ah, shut up. Fuckin’ asshole over here.”
“I’m just teasing you. You’re not secretly Batman, are you?”
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out. D’you wanna check out the bat cave?”
“Oh, you-”
Izzy rolled his eyes and put a pillow over his head with a groan. He’d have to be up in a few hours.
The pillow didn’t help, though.
“I think it’s rather lovely, actually.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I s’pose. Sometimes it’s a bit more trouble than it’s worth, really.”
Izzy froze at Edward’s words, heat prickling at his eyes and making them itch.
He was just tired. He needed sleep.
He tried to put the thought out of his brain as he dozed off, but all it did was echo over and over on a loop, following him into his dreams.
More trouble than it’s worth.
More trouble than it’s worth.
More trouble than it’s worth.
*
The mornings after were something to relish as well, and Izzy was particularly looking forward to this one.
Edward was already in a meeting, holed up in his office while he took a video call, and so Izzy let himself into the bedroom, picking his way through the clothes on the floor (all this Stede fellow’s - Edward at least had draped his own stuff on the back of a chair).
Stede appeared to still be asleep, tangled in the bedsheets and snoring loudly. Izzy wrinkled his nose at the sound, and then knocked several times on the door and cleared his throat.
Stede made a confused snuffling noise, then stirred with a loud groan.
“Whassat?” he mumbled.
“It’s ten in the morning,” announced Izzy, “I don’t doubt you have some incredibly important engagement to get to.”
Stede shook his head to clear it, then sat up in bed. Izzy had to admit, he did see the appeal. The man was broad shouldered and golden haired, with eyes that crinkled at the corners as he squinted into the morning light.
“Oh, the butler,” said Stede, more to himself than to Izzy.
“Izzy Hands,” said Izzy through his teeth, “at your service. ”
“That’s amazing. And you do all the little odd jobs around here do you?”
“I’m not here to discuss my job description with you,” said Izzy, “but if you have to know, I do whatever Mr Teach requires of me. Which occasionally includes taking out the trash in the morning.”
Stede blinked.
“Well!”
“Would you like me to call you a taxi?”
Infuriatingly, Stede didn’t seem particularly moved by Izzy’s outburst. Instead, he passed a hand over his face, scrubbing at the light stubble that covered his cheeks.
“I’ve got a driver, I’ll take care of it.”
“Very good.”
Izzy plucked a hanger out of the wardrobe and hung Stede’s clothes up for him while he man took his sweet fucking time waking up.
“Could you fetch me a coffee as well?” called Stede.
Izzy grit his teeth and weighed up the pros and cons of telling him to fuck off. He decided that this guy oozed indignant rich fuck, and decided it would be more trouble than it was worth.
“Coming right up,” he all but growled.
*
“You know, I, er, never got Edward’s number,” said Stede, hovering in the doorway as he waited for his car.
“He never gave it to you,” said Izzy airily, “he doesn’t give it out to one night stands.”
Stede didn’t look hurt by that. More confused, than anything.
“That can’t be right, can it? He said last night-”
“I don’t really care to hear what he said, but I’m sure he was very convincing,” sneered Izzy.
“Oh, fuck off. Are you always this much of an asshole?”
“Only to rich pricks with more money than sense.”
Stede rolled his eyes, and returned his attention to his phone. Izzy remained respectfully a few paces away, his hands clasped behind his back.
“You don’t need to watch me, you know,” snapped Stede.
“Yes, I do. Mr Teach has his fair share of followers , and I make sure everybody leaves when they need to.”
Stede looked him again, really looked at him, up and down.
“So what, are you his bodyguard as well? Got some secret martial arts moves squirreled away in all five foot whatever of you?”
Izzy bared his teeth, but said nothing.
Finally, Stede’s driver arrived, and the man left with one last wistful glance in the direction of the office.
“I left my card,” said Stede, “if you could-”
“Throw it out?” said Izzy, shutting the door in his face, “it would be my pleasure.”
He walked away as quickly as he could, telling himself he was going to check on Edward.
“Can I get you anything sir?” he said softly, cracking the door open a sliver.
Edward was currently typing out an email, his fingers flying over the keyboard faster than Izzy could keep track of. He knew better than to interrupt him in the middle of the train of thought, so he remained quietly in the doorway until Edward was finished, and turned to face him.
“Sir?” he said.
“Did you get his number?” said Edward, “I forgot to tell you.”
Izzy stared at him, taken aback.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I want to see him again!” said Edward, throwing his hands up, “that - last night, that was amazing . That guy’s a real freak, you know?”
Izzy didn’t know. Thank god, Izzy didn’t fucking know.
“He left his card,” said Izzy, forcing the words out. They felt like they were coating his tongue with something bitter and cloying.
“Oh, thank fuck,” said Edward, digging his knuckles into his eyes, “christ, I’m fucked. Get us a coffee, will you?”
“Anything for you, sir,” said Izzy.
He turned to leave, but not before he caught the way Edward’s lips pressed together in frustration.