Work Text:
Sam’s breath was kicked from him when he laid eyes on Izzy. The battered ship had pulled to port, and men who looked like ghosts poured off. The ship reeked of misery, and suffering filled her sails. Strange faces staggered down the plank to the dock, eyes frantic. Several stood at the lip, waiting for something.
Waiting for someone.
A haggered body, pale and dirty joined the men. Hair streaked black with dirt, face grey with god knows what. The group seemed to hold their breath as the body hauled itself to the plank.
One leg. Then wood. Then a crutch.
Sam was unable to breathe.
Izzy shrugged off hovering hands, determinedly edging down the plank, learning angels he had yet to experience without his leg. The group followed him, worried faces and Izzy let them right him when he stumbled.
Sam couldn’t speak.
Finally, Izzy reached the dock, a sigh inflating his torso, fighting the exhaustion that hung around him.
Sam’s breath finally came back and his body hummed with anger, fear, hope and sheer relief.
He moved fast, uncaring for the dockers he knocked or the ropes he stepped on. Izzy’s eyes caught his, and he felt a stab of pain in his chest as fear bled over the shorter man’s expression.
“Sam,” Izzy croaked, voice hollow and tired. Eyes turned to look at him, some fiercer than others. “Shit’s gone wrong, we just needed-“
The rest of Izzys words were lost as Sam pulled him close, taking his full weight in his arms and breathing in the smell of sweat, blood and grime at Izzy's neck. Izzy was stiff, brittle, in his arms and Sam just squeezed him tighter.
Izzy wanted to melt. Wanted the world to disappear around him and only this to be real. To never pull away or leave the warmth which suddenly embraced him. Sam’s clothes were clean and soft, his hair smelt like smoke and cedar.
It was heaven.
Blinking slowly, trying to keep tears away, Izzy was slowly becoming aware of muttered words at his neck, lips moving against his skin.
“-God for bringing him back. Thank you God, thank you for keeping him safe…”
Izzy hitched a laugh and pulled back, only to lose his voice as lips pressed against his, hungry and desperate.
Sam tasted like home. He tasted alive.
It was a quick kiss, and Sam rested his forehead against Izzys, one hand at his waist and the other buried in his hair.
“Israel…” Sam whispered, unable to voice his thoughts.
When?
How?
Who?
Why?
“I’m fine.”
The statement was strong, stubborn and a laugh burst from Sam at the same time as his tears.
“Pretty sure I left you with needing two boots,” Sam sniffed, pulled back slightly, but still holding onto Izzy. “Christ Israel, what did your poor leg ever do to you?”
“Never liked that one anyway,” Izzy breathed, tiredness spreading fast. “We, the crew, need a place-“
“Let’s get you home Sweets,” Sam cut off. “Bring who and what you want. But let’s get you home. Fuck, we need to get your leg looked at, you look like hell in general.”
Finally looking around, Sam noticed the same group of men that had flanked Izzy down the gangway were still hoovering, all starting with varying degrees of shock and confusion. A few looked delighted and pleased.
“Crew, this is Sam. Sam this is crew. Sam and I live together. There will be no more questions. Say “Hi Sam” if you understand!”
A chorus of ‘hey Sam’ rang out with a few half hearted waves.
“Crew,” Sam nodded, letting Izzy find his feet (foot) and leave his embrace. “Welcome to Merchants Port. Follow me, Iz - can you walk or…”
“You even try to carry me and I will jab you in the throat,” Izzy muttered, breaking away and taking a swing forward, marking the conversation at the docks as over. “Come on you lot, I’m not waiting around until you finish gawping.”
Sam watched him go for a few seconds, hands clenching at his sides as he watched Izzy struggle. The crew moved before he did, and he quickly fell in line, observing the unspoken rule: Izzy was leading.
What happened was a story for another day. Watching Izzy limp forward, arms strong and body determined, Sam gave one more prayer thanking whatever God there was that Izzy was home safe. That he would be able to wash the dirt from his skin. Put food and water in his belly and give him strength. Touch that part of him forever altered and know it changed nothing.
Izzt was home safe.
Everything else could be weathered.