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You swiped the mop over the deck, keeping your head down and focusing on your job, trying to avoid being noticed.
Izzy was on a rampage.
Again.
It really wasn't an uncommon occurrence; ever since Stede had returned to The Revenge with the rest of the crew, Blackbeard's mood had been...mercurial, swinging between bright and dour in the blink of an eye, and while Izzy's mood had been been more consistent, it was consistently bad. Even more so than when he'd first been dragged onto this ship by his captain, according to Buttons.
You were new: hired by Blackbeard after he'd needed to replace to crew he'd marooned, so you didn't know what Izzy had been like before, but you knew that now, in the present, he was a bastard.
Actually, 'bastard' was a rather mild term for him. The man was relentlessly overbearing and inexorably harsh if he felt like someone had crossed him. He ruled the decks of The Revenge with an iron fist: shouting at the crew, doling out jobs, and passing down orders from Blackbeard like it was the only thing God had put Izzy on this earth to do. Hell, Izzy's demeanour made Blackbeard look cuddly by comparison, and there was a very real possibility (actually an almost certainty) that Blackbeard was insane.
So, yeah, the word 'bastard' felt like it didn’t really do Izzy justice…but you didn’t hold it against him.
You were a pirate: not by necessity, but by choice. You could decipher maps, do some basic mathematics, even read and write - you had a lot of advantages that a lot of women didn't have...but you'd run away to be a pirate while on the way to meet your fiancé for the first time, because you had decided it was preferable to becoming someone's wife. If Izzy was a bastard, then you were at best flighty and irresponsible, and at worst you were capricious and volatile. Your former fiancé probably thought you were a bitch, so who were you to criticise Izzy?
You left Izzy to his bastard ways, kept your head down and tried not to draw his attention, and for the most part he left you alone. He was down-right pleasant to you compared to the way he was to the rest of the crew.
Comparatively being the operative word in that sentence.
Despite being 'comparatively' nice to you, Izzy was still arrogant, self-superior, and rude - you just got threatened less than everyone else, but you were fairly sure that was just because he rarely had to ask you do do anything twice. You'd taken some ribbing over it, but almost everyone agreed that it was mostly because he saw you as competent: likely because you were hired by Blackbeard and not Stede.
Izzy did not like Stede's crew - except for maybe Jim - even now you could hear him shouting at Frenchie for snooping in his cabin when Frenchie was supposed to be cleaning the narrow passageway between the sets of rooms on either side of the ship.
Frenchie was shoved out onto the deck with a flea in his ear, and the sound of Izzy slamming his door was loud enough that the probably heard it in the port you'd left five days ago. Frenchie made his way over to where you were finishing up mopping, rubbing the back of his head where Izzy had probably smacked him, and grumbling:
"I was only trying to be helpful." he complained to you under his breath: "I saw something sticking out from behind his door and went to fix it, and he hit me!"
You shrugged: "Man likes his things the way he likes 'em, Frenchie. Best leave him to it."
"I was being nice!" Frenchie protested.
"Izzy ain't a man who appreciates 'nice'." you raised an eyebrow: "Even I've learned that by now."
Frenchie grumbled, but he knew you were right: "He's still a bastard."
"Can't argue with that." you laughed, finally finishing up mopping and resting the broom against the side of the ship so you could stretch out the ache in your shoulders from being hunched over for a while: "Let him be, Frenchie. None of us are saints, even if some of us are politer sinners than others."
You were expecting a response: and for a second, Frenchie looked like he was about to return with another insult towards Izzy, but then he shut his mouth. Quickly.
A sense of doom suddenly overcame you, and you slowly turned around, only to find Izzy glaring at you from a few fee away. Definitely close enough to hear what you and Frenchie had been saying to each other.
Fuck.
"Since you two have got time to be standing around gossiping like old women," he sneered at the two of you: "You can both get to work. Frenchie swab the deck. And you," Izzy turned to glare: "go clean the passage that this idiot missed."
Frenchie started to argue that you had already cleaned the deck - but he should've known better by now; all Izzy did was kick the bucket of dirty water over and storm off, while you and Frenchie shared a sympathetic look before parting ways: him to clean up the mess Izzy had just made, you to go finish cleaning the passageway.
You would never admit it, either to Izzy or Frenchie, but Frenchie had done a terrible job - and he probably had been snooping through Izzy's things, no matter what he said about trying to be nice, if only to try and take a break from cleaning. You were down on your hands and knees, scrubbing furiously at a suspiciously red stain on the floor, when Izzy returned: sneering as he stepped over your legs to get into his room.
He didn't kick the bucket of dirty water over the floor this time, or sling his drink over the wall, so you took that as a win and carried on with your job while Izzy shut himself behind the locked door of his cabin.
It was the perfect plan...until you followed the stain along the floor...and under the bottom of Izzy's door.
Fate apparently didn't want you to stick to your avoidance tactic today.
Mustering as much courage as you possibly could, you straightened your shoulders, picked up the bucket and scrubbing brush, and knocked on the firmly shut (and probably locked) door in front of you.
"What?" came the snapped response from inside.
"You want me to clean the stain under the door, boss?"
There was some grumbling, and you figured Izzy wanted to tell you to fuck off, but more than anything else he probably wanted the ship clean, so you weren't surprised when you heard footsteps on the other side of the door, before it abruptly swung open.
"Well? What the fuck are you waiting for?" Izzy snapped at you: "Clean and get out."
Keeping calm, or at least as calm as possible, you waited for him to back up a few steps before getting down on your knees to work on the stain. Izzy was quick enough to move back - for all his bastard-ness, he'd never seemed to get off on making you do things, like some men had. It made him easier to turn your back on, even when he remained in the room as you worked.
You were expecting him to leave, since he was so obviously uncomfortable around the crew, but apparently Frenchie trying to snoop in here earlier had made him wary, and he stood in a corner, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at you as you scrubbed. You couldn't see him, but you could feel his gaze boring into the back of your head, almost like a physical pressure.
It was enough to make you sweat uncomfortably - on top of the way you were sweating from vigorously scrubbing at the floor in the dark heat of the ship - and you sat back on your heels to take a breath and brush some locks of sweat-dampened hair out of your face, when you saw something dark grey, almost black, and covered in sleek fur poking out of a chest shoved hastily under Izzy's cot.
You dropped your gaze immediately, and got back to work.
Whatever it was, Izzy had wanted it hidden, and if Izzy wanted it to be hidden, then there was no way in Hell that you were going to try and bring it to light. You liked being alive, and weren't looking to get murdered any time soon.
You deliberately did not look at the piece of mysterious fur half-hidden under Izzy's bed, and it probably wasn't very subtle, but with Izzy observing you like a hawk the whole time you'd been in here, you wouldn't be surprised if he'd noticed you seeing it the first time, so the least you could hope for was the somehow convey that you weren't going to, like, blab about it or anything. You didn't even know what you'd seen, so you couldn't say shit anyway.
Not that you thought that would make Izzy trust you.
You weren't surprised when you tried to get up and leave when you were done cleaning, and found Izzy standing in front of the door, arms still crossed across his chest, but his face carefully blank.
"I didn't see shit." you said immediately.
Izzy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose: "Was that supposed to be convincing?"
You winced: "More like...reassuring?"
"Reassuring?" Izzy raised an eyebrow: "And what are you supposed to be reassuring me of? That you didn't see my sealskin under the bed? Or that you don't know what it means?"
"I didn't see shit." you repeated yourself: "I don't know shit."
Izzy sighed again: "If you were any other member of this crew, I would believe that to be literally true. In your case, it might just mean you're smart enough to keep your mouth shut."
You paused, and Izzy let the silence drag on uncomfortable, staring at you until you finally asked: "So..."
"So get the fuck out."
You were all too happy to be dismissed...but although you bolted from the room as quickly as you could, you weren't quick enough to watch Izzy's shoulders slump in a way you'd never seen with him before.
On anyone else, you'd call it defeat, but you weren't sure Izzy knew what defeat actually was. What you were sure of was that Izzy looked like a man condemned to the gallows, and you wouldn't want to leave anyone looking like that. Even Izzy - who, for all your complaining about him, was actually a decent man. Or at least a man who had his heart in the right place. Sort of. As much as the rest of you did, anyway, even if he did have funny ways of showing it. And since no-one could be trusted to look after Izzy - or to even want to - you were going to have to take your life in your hands and do it yourself.
Bracing yourself for the worst, you turned and stepped back into Izzy's room, closing the door behind you.
Izzy rounded on you, looking ready to chew you out, but you didn't give him a chance.
All you gave him was a warning: "Please don't fatally stab me."
Then you threw yourself at him.
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing against him in a hug, while he stood as stiff as a board in your arms.
But he didn't stab you. Not even not-fatally.
Instead, he tensed up, going as still as a statue in your arms. You couldn't even feel him breathing, and for a moment you wondered if you'd actually shocked him enough to kill him...but then he suddenly moved.
You found yourself smacked against the wall, Izzy pinning you against the wood and slamming into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as he pinned you in place with his body - only putting enough space between you two snarl at you:
"What the. Fuck." he hissed: "Do you think you're doing?"
You swallowed your nerves: "Being reassuring?"
Izzy did not look reassured: "Did we not establish that you were bad at that?"
"We did...that was why I was trying something new."
"By attacking me?"
"This is a hug!" you exclaimed, indignant that Izzy thought this was your best attempt at trying to hurt someone: "If I was going to attack you, I'd at least...I don't know...try and claw out your eyes, or something."
Izzy laughed. Laughed.
But he did relax, at least as much as Izzy ever relaxed...and he didn't pull away from you.
Emboldened, you tightened your arms slightly around Izzy's shoulders, and he...he allowed you. You could feel the tension slowly slipping out of him as he relaxed against you, until he was almost limp in your arms: chin resting on your shoulder, arms loosely around your waist, and pretty much remaining upright only by virtue of the fact he was leaning on you. He didn't say anything, but you figured that was a good thing; Izzy was a complainer, he was very vocal when he wasn't happy - so if he wasn't saying anything, it made sense he was probably happy where he was.
And since you weren't getting stabbed, you were happy too.
Well, also because Izzy was quite good at hugging, once he'd decided he wasn't going to murder you and throw you over the side of the ship. He was warm and solid where he was pressed against you, he smelled good for a man who'd been at sea for the best part of a week, and you swore you could feel the steady beat of his heart where the side of his throat was pressed against your collar-bone - although maybe that bit was just your imagination. Even if it was, it was oddly comforting.
In short, Izzy was giving you the best hug you'd ever had on this ship, something that surprised you - but maybe you shouldn't. No-one ever seemed to touch Izzy, not even Blackbeard, so maybe that had made Izzy value quality over quantity. Or maybe he just had hidden talents. To be honest, you didn't really care. You just cared that you were happy. And that Izzy was happy too.
For a bastard, Izzy really wasn't too bad.