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There’s no lines connecting to how Lucius finds out, but when he does, it's fucking painful. With Izzy standing at the helm, Lucius sits by his feet like he always does.
“Are you serious?”
Izzy grits his teeth.
“I'm not judging you, Iz, I just…” Lucius fiddles with his wooden shark, running his thumb along the fin for support. “On this ship?”
Izzy sighs, “I had…plans.”
“What happened to them?”
“My plans shot me and tried to murder my friends.”
Friends. He has those now, despite everything he's done. Despite the bloodshed he unleashed upon them. Even if he’ll never forgive himself, their forgiveness is more than enough.
“God, he was hot though.” Lucius sighs wistfully, “y’know, before he got all murdery.”
Despite himself, Izzy laughs soft and low, “he was even hotter in private.”
“Hard to believe, if you’ve never gotten laid.”
“It just wasn't important. Survival was first and foremost, everything else…it’s background.”
“And now?”
Now, survival didn't exist. They were alive, they had lived through the worst, and if they went down, they all went down together. He’s done so many things he never in a million years thought he would do. Izzy never thought he would sing in front of his crew, or listen to bedtime stories, or talk it through when things hurt.
And love, which felt so far away for so long, is suddenly hurdling toward him like a freighter. Not just love for the friends that kept him alive despite his desperate pleas for death, but the deep pit in his stomach that fluttered when he was close. The thought of lips on his skin, and hands on his body. He longs for soft words to become desperate and wanting, for his ears only.
Lucius stands and rubs his lower back, grimacing at the feeling of his muscles pulling like bow strings. Izzy tries to stare ahead, tries to keep his eyes where they belong because he knows the look Lucius is giving him is bound to be a sympathetic one. When the silence becomes too much, Lucius speaks again.
“You can pick anyone on this ship, Iz. Any time you want to. I think any of us would jump at the chance to make you happy.”
At the end of Fang’s night shift, Izzy climbs up to the bird's nest with a bundle from Roach between his teeth. He leaves his leg at the bottom and hoists himself up each rung. The first few times was absolute hell on his body, his muscles screaming for vengeance once he reached the top, but as the seasons passed, his body moved faster.
As his head crests the base, he grips the ladder to steady himself and pulls the bundle free from his mouth. With the package secure, he pulls himself over the edge just in time for the sun to start its peak. Even with such a beautiful view, his eyes stay trained at the sight before him.
Fang has his back to the wood, his head tipped into his chest. His fingers are laced over his belly, but they twitch in his sleep. With his face so slack, Izzy knows his dreams must be good ones this time. Many mornings were not this comfortable, with tears streaming down his dirt stained face.
As Izzy gets comfortable in his normal spot right beside him, Fang snores himself awake. And like every morning when Fang is on watch, Izzy holds up dry bread slathered in Roach’s famous peanut butter.
“You fell asleep again.”
Fang hums, rubbing his palms against his eyes before taking his breakfast, “nope, just resting my eyes. From all the watching.”
“You were snoring.”
“To scare off predators,” he mumbles around a full mouth. “Bears do it.”
Takes one to know one.
Izzy pulls apart his own breakfast as he wills his heart to slow down. He’s not sure when the feeling changed, when Fang’s eyes went from sparkling pools to deep oceans to get lost in. It hurts to be this close, barely touching while wishing for more, but he doesn't have the words to say it. Not yet.
“How’s your breakfast?”
“Heavenly.”
Swallowing his toast like it’s lead, Izzy turns toward his companion. His stomach clenches pathetically. There are so many words stuffed into his chest, but they're stuck, trapped at the base of his throat. I think any of us would jump at the chance to make you happy, Lucius had said, but Izzy only wants one.
“Fang, I–”
“Wait,” Fang whispers, placing his hand on top of Izzy’s. It’s warm and rough against his skin, setting his heart on fire. “I love this part.”
Golden fire blazes along the dark black sea as the sun starts to rise. It pulls pinks and purples and swirls them around the clouds like flavored cotton candy.
Without his approval, Izzy’s brain turns his hand slowly under Fang’s, his palm facing up. Instead of watching the sunrise, he’s watching the way his fingers twitch as the pads lightly bump into Fang’s.
“Izzy?” There’s no disgust in his voice, no jerking movements to get away, so Izzy lets himself touch. “Things have changed, haven't they?”
“Yeah, Fang. I think they have.”
“Do you like it? The change?”
Fang spreads his fingers to allow space for Izzy’s, palms pressed together. His hand is so much bigger than Izzy’s, his fingers are practically swallowed whole. For all of his bravery, he’s terrified as he turns his gaze up. The smile he’s given is so warm that it trickles right down to his toes.
“Yeah,” he nods. “I think I do.”
And with a twinkle in his soft eyes, Fang giggles softly, “me too.”