Chapter Text
‘ Cause absinthe makes the heart
Grow fonder
(Absinthe by I DON’T KNOW HOW THEY FOUND ME)
1.
In retrospect, drinking with Stede fucking Bonnet wasn’t the best idea. It was yet again one of the stupid little things he did only to see Edward content. If having a couple of drinks with the recently reunited co-captains meant Blackbeard would look at him the way he used to when they were young and alone on the foreign ocean, then sure, he was going to suffer through Bonnet’s cheery remarks.
“Had to cut our shares of the bounty, but I managed to get a hold of this beauty,” he heard Bonnet say, followed by the clinking of three glasses being tossed onto the table. Each glass was rewarded with a gracious amount of impressively green liquid. He did not have time to react to how idiotic that idea was before Edward pushed one of the glasses into his hand.
“Cheers!” The two co-captains clinked their glasses together and Izzy was once again given a moment to rethink his life choices.
“Israel?”
“C’mon, Iz! Don’t leave us hanging!”
Izzy already felt a headache setting in. “Cheers,” he sighed and clinked his glass against theirs in defeat.
He watched Bonnet’s face twist into a grimace once he took a swig. “Oh boy! Definitely a strong one," he grinned at them, resting his eyes on Ed's face, in Izzy's opinion, for painfully long.
Izzy sipped the green liquid and his mouth was greeted with a burning sensation. It tasted of herbs and something he could not quite identify. Warmth spread through his body and he could feel his fingertips tingle as if millions of little ants decided to go for a stroll there. He took another sip.
“And that’s when I thought about the crew deserving paid time off!” Izzy looked up from his glass and was met with Bonnet’s enthusiastic smile. Apparently, he missed out on a big chunk of the ongoing conversation and was thankful for it. All the words in the English language could not feasibly and reasonably explain giving paid time off to fucking pirates.
The only way to survive the night, Izzy decided, was to drink up. He drank until his vision went hazy and if he were to stand up he would end up crashing face-first onto the floor. He could barely taste the alcohol in his drink now. Each time his glass turned empty, he urged Bonnet to refill it immediately. The conversation of the two captains was lost on him, the only things he could recall were the stupid sweet nothings they kept whispering to each other and the fucking pet names that burnt a hole into his chest. More alcohol, it meant.
He could not recall when his chair had been moved in between the co-captains. He could also not recall when he started staring at Bonnet’s lips. God, the man never shut up, but his voice melted Izzy’s insides. Alluring, just like the song of a siren. Izzy’s hand seemed to move on its own accord as he reached out to touch Stede’s cheek. How the fuck was the pirate’s skin so fucking soft? On the other hand, it was Bonnet after all.
Izzy was not granted a moment to rethink his actions. Stede’s hand covered Izzy’s right away and he looked at him with that stupid fond smile.
“Israel!” Stede grinned at him, hand now clutching Izzy’s. It was fair to say Izzy’s brain short-circuited. Nothing prepared him for what came next - Stede fucking Bonnet leaning over to press a soft kiss to his cheek.
“As if it was made for that!” Bonnet chuckled, poking a finger at the tattoo in the shape of an x.
Despite the alcohol cruising through his blood, Izzy felt his cheeks burn. He instinctively reached for the glass.
“Israel,” he heard Stede say softly.
“Oi, tone it down, mate. I don’t wanna be the one moppin’ after ya in the morning!” Ed chimed in, laughing. Izzy felt a sudden urge to punch his Captain. Oh, how Bonnet would stare at the blatant disrespect, and how he would fuss over his lover.
“Fuck. You.” He pushed back the chair as he stood up, his glass sent clattering on the wood boards of the ship. “Both of you.” He added as he fled the scene, glass crunching under his shoes.
“Israel!” Bonnet called after him, followed by Blackbeard’s hushed reassurance, obviously aimed to stop the co-captain from hurrying after him.
The floor seemed to move under Izzy’s boots and it appeared as if the very walls of the ship swayed from place to place. He somehow made it to his room, feeling around for the moving walls. If he could bare standing up for a little longer, he would wipe that kind smile from Bonnet’s stupid face. He would show Edward how absurd he is. Instead, he found himself in bed, curled up into a ball. He lay on his side, angry and waiting for nausea to kick in, or preferably the sweet release of sleep.
▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬
His head hurt. More precisely his head felt as if it was being pulled apart, sewn back together, and then torn to pieces once again. He awoke to the soft rustling of pages, signifying the presence of someone else in the room. There went his plan for a dignified recovery.
“
I grieve and dare not show my discontent,
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,...”
Izzy felt bile rise up his throat. “Get out of my room.” He mumbled, his voice strained and raspy.
“Oh, good! You’re awake!” Bonnet’s cheerful voice reverberated through the room, causing Izzy to flinch as his head went through the shattering ordeal once again.
“Ed and I were worried how you are going to fare this morning after you know, yesterday.” Ed. No one else used to be allowed to call him Ed. The old Blackbeard would have had his tongue for that.
Izzy’s stomach did a somersault. “Out of my fucking-,” he was interrupted by a sudden wave of nausea. Gripping the pathetic excuse for a bedframe, he vomited into a bucket that was surely placed by his bed by that twat.
Dizzy Izzy.
His stomach turned itself inside out multiple times. He failed to notice when Stede had moved to sit by his side on the bed in between all of the gagging, spitting and coughing. Bonnet’s hand was laid on his back, rubbing smooth circles onto his shirt.
Once he was sure his insides were done protesting the terror of last night, he turned to Bonnet. Teary-eyed from the exertion, and with the remains of whatever was in the bucket still probably staining his face. “I told you to get out.”
Stede’s hands were suddenly cupping his cheeks and softly wiping away the mess. He moved slowly and carefully as if not to startle him, or more realistically to avoid getting punched in the face. “Let me help.”