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It's a beautiful day at sea. The crew are working slowly, talking and laughing and sharing stories amongst themselves, caught up in the simple joy of each other's company. Ed is sitting beside Frenchie, learning how to play the lute. For the first time in years, Ed feels light; happy. He's got a good crew and a good ship, and he gets to do fun things like learn how to play instruments and watch Stede direct plays performed by the crew. He didn't know life could be like this.
The gentle peace is broken by the sound of unholy screeching coming from below deck, and an alarming series of crashes. Ed's on his feet in a moment, heart hammering double-time as the crew turn to him, alarmed and fearful. Are they under attack? Did someone stow away on their ship at their last port, waiting for the ideal moment to strike? Is his hard-won peaceful life about to come crashing down on him?
Stede stomps up onto the deck, face red, clutching his hand. Izzy pushes past him a moment later, hair mused and near-wild with fury.
'Yikes,' Lucius says.
'Ed!' Stede shouts. 'The feral little shit bit me!'
'Control your fucking boyfriend!' Izzy shrieks, pointing in Stede's direction. 'He tried to touch my hair!'
'You had stray hairs out of place!'
'They're all out of place now!'
'Honestly, I was just trying to help!'
'You can help by not fucking touching me. Better yet, don't look at me.'
'You're so immature.'
'You're a fucking lunatic!'
'Well you—'
'Enough!' Ed shouts. Both of them quiet down and face Ed. Izzy still looks furious, taking deep breaths to clearly try and calm himself down. Stede is starting to pout.
Ed takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice level. 'Stede, what are you not supposed to do without supervision?'
'Interact with Izzy,' Stede replies, contrite.
'And Izzy, what are you not supposed to do?'
'Maim Stede,' Izzy mutters, arms folded, glaring at his boots. 'It was just a warning bite!'
'It didn't feel like a warning bite! You drew blood!'
'It's not my fault your skin is so fucking fragile—'
'Both of you!' Ed barks. 'Captain's cabin, now!'
Scowling and muttering under their breaths, the two of them make their way toward the captain's cabin.
Ed heaves a sigh. He can't help but wish things were easier. He's grateful that Stede agreed to share with Izzy, grateful that he accepted the fact Ed loves them both and doesn't want to choose. He's incredibly grateful to both of them for agreeing to this arrangement, for giving Ed almost everything he wants. But the trade-off has been mitigating the near-constant shouting matches and attempted murders, which only seem to increase in frequency when Ed tries to get them to find some kind of middle ground in the hopes that they'd get along someday.
They've got strict rules to adhere to; no fighting, no maiming, no passive-aggression, no convoluted murder attempts under the guise of finally setting aside their differences. But even with all the supports in place, they somehow end up at each other's throats anyway. As much as he loves them both, he's starting to get tired of the constant fighting. Something has to give.
Ed winces at the sounds of a muffled argument coming from the captain's cabin. It's a miracle they haven't actually managed to kill each other yet.
He opens the door just as Izzy throws an expensive china teacup directly at Stede, who ducks out of the way. Ed and Stede both wince as it shatters against the wall.
'You evil little man!' Stede cries, picking up a very heavy-looking leather bound book. 'Stop destroying my things!'
'Get nicer things and maybe I'll leave them alone! Those teacups are fucking ugly!'
'How dare you! Those were antiques!'
'Fang? Ivan? Wee John?' Ed calls, leaning out of the doorway, 'They're doing it again.'
When the four of them re-enter the captain's cabin, Stede and Izzy are on the floor. Izzy is beating Stede with an over-stuffed pillow from the settee, while Stede is trying to strangle Izzy using his cravat.
'Jesus,' Ivan mutters.
'You need to put them on leashes,' Wee John says.
'Put me down!' Izzy yells as Fang drags him away from Stede. Ivan stands between them, ready to thwart any future attacks, while Wee John pushes Stede to the other side of the room, away from where Izzy is glowering and struggling against Fang. Ed suspects that the crew secretly enjoy Izzy and Stede's fights; aside from the entertainment, they get to boss around the captain and first mate without any real punishments. Ed doesn't even mind their fights; when they're just sniping at each other and being bitchy over dinner, it's even funny. He just wishes it didn't devolve into physical violence so often.
'They'll just strangle each other with the leashes,' Ed complains. 'I don't know what to do anymore, man.'
'I'll come up with a solution, captain,' Wee John promises, hauling an incredibly unhappy Stede along with him. Ivan and Fang take Izzy with them, too, leaving Ed alone in the captain's cabin, defeated. Why is it so hard for them to get along?
Wee John finds Ed a few hours later. Izzy and Stede are sulking in their respective corners of the ship, upset with each other and with Ed for scolding them. He hates getting upset with them; he'd prefer it if he could just go with the flow and enjoy their company without any problems, but their inability to get along has made that impossible.
'I came up with something,' Wee John says proudly, holding up a large tunic with a rope secured at its waist.
Ed frowns. 'Why does it have two neck holes?'
The glint in Wee John's eye is downright frightening. 'It's called a get-along shirt. My brother and I used to have one when we were kids. You both wear it and get stuck together until you learn to get along.'
Ed grins. 'It's perfect.'
The plan is deceptively simple; he invites Izzy and Stede to discuss the afternoon's events over dinner, while Fang, Ivan and Wee John lie in wait to ambush them.
Neither of them are particularly graceful about the trap. There's a lot of shrieking and flailing from Stede, while Izzy kicks with all his might and curses so colourfully that even Ed is shocked. But eventually the two of them are wrestled into the shirt, the rope tied fast around their waists. Izzy is glowering. Stede looks mortified.
'What the fuck is this?' Izzy snaps.
'A get-along shirt,' Ed says cheerfully. 'Because you two get to wear it until you learn to get along.'
'This is stupid,' Izzy says.
'For once, I agree,' Stede says.
Ed blinks hard, and lets his eyes fill with tears as he stares at them both, wide-eyed. He nearly laughs at the identical looks of horror on their faces. 'Can you at least try, for me?'
For good measure, he blinks hard again, and feels a single tear slip down his cheek. Stede has gone pale, and Izzy's mouth is set in a grim, determined line.
'Of course, dear,' Stede says, voice pitched high with panic. 'Anything for you. Just don't cry!'
'Fine,' Izzy rolls his eyes. 'Whatever.'
Ed lets himself smile.
'This is the worst,' Izzy mutters. 'Why do you get to use your dominant hand?'
'You could learn to be ambidextrous,' Stede suggests. 'It's a good skill to have.'
'You could go fuck yourself,' Izzy retorts, before looking guiltily in Ed's direction.
It's been about an hour; Stede and Izzy have been getting their bearings in he shirt, navigating the captain's cabin and griping at each other over every little thing. They've been conscious of their bickering, shooting panicked glances in Ed's direction every time they think they've gone too far. Ed feels almost unbearably smug. He should have tried crying a long time ago, apparently.
The real test is dinner, delivered by an incredibly amused looking Roach. It's just broth with meat and vegetables — a deceptively simple meal, but Izzy and Stede are both frowning down at their bowls. Ed can barely contain his glee.
'Ed,' Izzy says, 'I can't eat. I don't have use of my dominant hand.'
'I can't eat either,' Stede says. 'What if Izzy bumps me and makes me spill my soup?'
'You can at least use your spoon,' Izzy complains.
'You two are gonna have to figure it out,' Ed says, grinning widely.
The silence stretches on for several long minutes while Stede and Izzy ponder their situation, staring at the table and then each other. They both make abortive gestures toward their spoons before giving up, sighing in frustration. Ed hasn't been this entertained in years.
After a painfully long silence, during which Ed is sure their food has gone cold, Stede hesitantly says, 'I could feed you?'
'I'd rather starve,' Izzy replies.
'Open up!' Stede says cheerfully, spooning soup into Izzy's mouth. 'It's not so bad, really. I used to do this for my kids.'
Izzy is glaring at Stede and Ed in turns, his expression so vicious that, if he had proper use of his arms, Ed would be fearing for Stede's safety. 'See, Iz, teamwork isn't so bad.'
'This is demeaning,' Izzy says. 'He's only enjoying this because he gets to treat me like a child.'
'If the shoe fits,' Stede mutters under his breath.
'See?!' Izzy cries.
'Well, Stede, you're just gonna have to accept Izzy's help on something later,' Ed says reasonably. 'Maybe he can help you do your hair.'
Stede visibly deflates. His attempts at feeding Izzy are much less enthusiastic after that.
Neither of them are particularly eager to go out on deck in their current predicament, so Ed generously agrees to spend the night supervising them inside the captain's cabin. He's fairly certain that if any of the crew were allowed to see this, it would end in Izzy tearing his way free of the shirt and murdering someone.
'I want to read,' Stede says.
Izzy rolls his eyes. 'Of course you do.'
'We'll have to hold the book together,' Stede says.
Izzy takes a deep breath and holds it for an alarmingly long amount of time, before exhaling slowly. 'Fine.'
Stede turns his head away from Izzy for a moment, staring hard at the wall. Ed is learning that this is Stede's way of regulating his desire to strangle Izzy, and he's oddly proud of both of them for trying to manage his feelings. It's also incredibly funny watching them both throw their own little tantrums about reading a book, a hobby they both share.
'How about you pick one,' Stede offers, surprisingly generous.
Izzy shrugs, quiet as they inspect the bookshelf together. 'Whatever. I don't care.'
'He likes fairytales,' Ed suggests helpfully. 'The kind you read to the crew.'
Stede raises his eyebrows, but wisely refrains from commenting further. Instead, he selects a book from the shelf. 'Ed, love, could you let us have the settee? There isn't anywhere else with enough space for us.'
'I dunno,' Ed says. 'My knee is pretty sore, I don't want to move. Why don't you two take the bed?'
'Your knee is perfectly fucking fine, Edward—'
'That's our bed, I don't want him in it—'
Ed gives them both a moment to yell and complain, before looking meaningfully down at his knee, and then back up at them. He even pouts a bit for good measure.
'This is the worst day of my life,' Izzy says.
'I can't believe you get to sit on my side,' Stede complains as they awkwardly clamber onto the bed.
Ed watches quietly as they settle in, Izzy dutifully holding up his side of the book. It's peaceful, like this; Ed reclining on the settee with his pipe, Stede and Izzy enjoying a shared hobby. It's the sort of thing he's always wanted for the three of them. He can't understand why it's so difficult for them to get along; they're much more similar than he thinks either of them want to admit. If only they'd let that be something they could bond over, rather than a point of contention, then they could have more pleasant evenings like this.
He admires the slope of Stede's nose, the shine in his hair. He looks so different to Izzy, with his ever-present scowl and tough exterior. Privately, Ed thinks they make an attractive pair. If this little experiment goes well, maybe he'll get to voice that thought someday.
Ed's not sure who would be tougher to convince; Stede is remarkably stubborn at times, and Izzy can't even hear Stede's name without starting on with his hysterics. Sure, they got off on the wrong foot, but Ed can't bring himself to believe that hope is lost. This afternoon seems to be a testament to it; they've survived lunch together and are now quietly reading. He just needs to keep being patient.
He watches Izzy for a few minutes. Stede turns the page, and Izzy huffs in annoyance.
'Is something wrong?' Stede asks, in what Ed now knows to be his passive-aggressive tone.
'No,' Izzy replies.
'I think you're reading a little too fast for him, love,' Ed says. Judging by the murderous glare Izzy sends his way, he's right.
'Oh! Sorry,' Stede says. He looks a little embarrassed. He's clearly expecting a tirade from Izzy, but he just shrugs half-heartedly.
'That one was boring, anyway,' Izzy says. Ed feels a surge of affection for him; contrary and difficult to the last.
'You can pick one for us, then,' Stede says, and flicks through the pages in the book.
Eventually, Izzy says, 'That one.'
Ed watches them more closely, this time. Stede speeds through the pages — he's a terribly fast reader. He'd admitted to Ed once that it was a habit borne of a lonely childhood and even lonelier adulthood, with only his books for company. Izzy, meanwhile, is not a particularly fast reader. He'd taught himself later in life because once, when they were young and just starting out, Ed had mentioned once that it would be good to have officers aboard the ship who could read. Izzy, as in all other things, had worked tirelessly to make it happen, long after Ed had forgotten about the offhand comment. He's a confident reader, but slow, his skill mainly reserved for ship's logs. Certainly, he's no match for Stede.
'Have you finished the page yet?' Stede asks.
'Not yet,' Izzy replies.
A few moments go by. Stede glances around the room.
'How about now?'
'No.'
Stede is starting to fidget.
'Now?'
'For fuck's sake, Bonnet, I'll tell you when!'
'Why don't you read out loud, Stede?' Ed suggests.
Izzy sighs. 'Fine, yes, do that. Whatever. Just don't do any fucking voices.'
'But then how will you know— yes, fine, all right, I won't do voices,' Stede huffs, rolling his eyes as Izzy elbows him.
Ed listens to Stede read for a while, enjoying the sound of his voice without really paying attention to what he's saying. Izzy is listening too, following along in the book while Stede reads. He smiles while he watches them; he loves both of them, and it's nice to see them at least pretending to get along.
Eventually, he feels brave enough to sneak out of the room and up on deck. Everyone immediately swarms him.
'What's going on?' Lucius demands. 'Are they dead? We have a bet going on.'
'I bet that Izzy kills Stede,' Jim says.
'I bet that you intervene before that happens,' Pete says.
'I bet that they become friends,' The Swede says.
'I bet that they kiss,' Lucius says. 'Have they? Oh my god, they have, haven't they?!'
Ed thinks he'd be annoyed about the crew betting on the personal lives of his boyfriends in any other situation, but he's had such an entertaining afternoon that he laughs it off. Besides, the lot of them have put up with Stede and Izzy's petty fights often enough that Ed gives them a pass for being nosy. 'None of that happened. We had lunch, they bitched a bit, now they're reading.'
'Told you it would work,' Wee John says proudly. 'Do you want me to teach you how to make one in case they rip that one up? That way you have a backup.'
'Actually, yeah,' Ed says. 'That would be great.'
Ed loses track of time on deck; he learns how to make a get-along shirt and gets pulled into roping various crew members into putting it on and parading around in it, attempting to do their duties while bound to each other. It's a good bit of fun, and Ed gets wrestled into wearing the shirt with Frenchie and together they pick out an awkward tune on the lute. It's a good bit of fun, and he's almost grateful to Izzy and Stede for—
Cold dread fills him, and he nearly drops the lute. He fucking forgot about Izzy and Stede.
'I fucking forgot about Izzy and Stede,' he says to the crew.
'Oh shit,' Frenchie says.
'If they're dead how will we know who won the bet?' The Swede asks.
Ed quickly wrestles his way out of the shirt and sprints back to the captain's cabin, almost wild with panic. What if they got out of the shirt and attacked each other? What if it's been quiet because they're both lying dead on the ground, having finally gone too far in one of their fights? What if they needed to leave the room and they got tangled in the shirt and tripped and hit their heads or were strangled by the rope around their waists or—
By the time he opens the door he's come up with a million horrific deaths that could have befallen them while Ed was distracted with the crew.
'I'm sorry for being a terrible boyfriend, please don't be dead—'
Miraculously, they're not dead.
Even more miraculously, they're both asleep. Izzy is leaning against Stede's shoulder, and Stede is resting against the top of Izzy's head, the book lying forgotten in his lap. Ed stands frozen in the doorway for a moment, afraid to move in case he wakes either of them. After a moment, when it seems likely that neither of them is going to wake up, he creeps back to the settee and gets comfortable, ready to sit and wait until they wake up.
Ed thinks back to the crew's bet, and grins so hard his face hurts. With any luck, it'll only take a few more hours of them being stuck together for them to kiss.
As usual, Ed's good luck does not hold out for long.
'Ed,' Izzy hisses. 'Edward, help me.'
Ed focuses back on his pipe, admiring the craftsmanship. It really is a neat little thing, sturdy and well-made.
'Edward, you fucker. I know you can hear me.'
Ed hums lightly to himself as he re-packs the bowl, still not looking up at Izzy.
'Ed, he's laying on me! He's holding my hand inside this stupid fucking shirt!'
'That's nice,' Ed whispers, glancing up at Izzy. 'Be quiet, so you don't wake Stede. Better yet, why don't you go back to sleep? You two have had a long day. We can talk later.'
Ed stifles a laugh at the look of betrayal on Izzy's face. Maybe he'll save his joke about getting along, indeed for when he can recruit Fang and Ivan to restrain Izzy. Hopefully, he thinks, Stede will be more amenable to the idea.