Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s unthinkable, but it’s happened. Bonnet has returned, and Izzy—who had been fully fucking prepared for his own life to be over from the moment Edward put that gun in his hand—has made it through, alive and almost in one piece. That ought to have led to his new captain taking a few more chunks out of him, or the crew flat out tossing him overboard; they have every reason to do that. And… they didn’t. They all decided that they wanted Izzy around, even Bonnet.

Maybe especially Bonnet. He’s not only kept Izzy around, he’s asked him for guidance—a thing that, frankly, Izzy didn’t even know that Bonnet was aware that he needed. And he’s asked Izzy to take on his former position as first mate, under a new captain.

It’s unexpected, and frankly it’s foolish. Izzy could easily be scheming against him. Bonnet, when Izzy asked him about that, simply shrugged and said I don’t think you are, though, are you? and when Izzy said he wasn’t Bonnet said then that’s that.

He can’t fucking stand that man. What pisses him off the most is that Bonnet is right: Izzy has no interest now in taking him down. On this ship, surrounded by these people, he’s moved beyond revenge.

Even Izzy’s got to admit at this point that Bonnet’s a good captain, and he’s a good person. A better person than Izzy, if only because he hasn’t had enough time for the world beyond whatever kind of ivory tower he was raised in to corrupt him. And somewhere in Izzy’s lingering distaste for Bonnet is a real appreciation for the person that he is—intending well, caring for his crew, willing to make mistakes—infuriating as that person sometimes can be.

Which is very.

If you’d asked Izzy a few months ago what sailing with Captain Bonnet would be like, he’d say it would be a fucking disaster, the kind that would make him throw himself off the side of the ship before the crew even had a chance to do it. The reality isn’t half as bad. And Izzy stands corrected—stands on a new leg, with his new captain, and his new lease on life.

It’ll do. He’ll even give Bonnet some credit for how happy he makes Edward. He’d loved Ed himself, once, but the passion that was there fizzled, eventually fading into routine, then resentment. Bonnet does a far better job of being what Edward needs, and they make a good pair: Captain, and captain’s lover. Izzy’s no longer a part of it, no longer concerned with keeping them apart or keeping Edward focused or trying to manage either of their ups and downs as a couple. They can be idiots on their own.

There’s no ache in his chest when he sees how Edward looks at Bonnet, no urge to stab Bonnet when he reaches for Edward’s hand or kisses him in broad daylight on the deck. He’s let that love go, and he’ll never love anyone like that again, and it’s fine. It’s for the best. Izzy isn’t made for that kind of love; he loves his job, loves his crew, and that suits him better than romance, anyway. He’s a guide, a protector, a supporter, and a damn good first mate. That’s what the ship needs, and moreover that’s what Captain Bonnet needs. So that’s what Izzy will be, and he and Bonnet are on the path to becoming a damn good team.

Not that it’s easy.

It’s not long before they fall into a routine. Bonnet is determined to finally become a proper pirate, and Edward’s been fixating on repairing everything on the ship that’s broken and learning how to cook on top of that, which means that Izzy has plenty of alone time with his new captain, time that’s filled mostly with drills and lessons. Funny thing is that Blackbeard made Izzy lazy, too used to coasting along on that reputation. Without him he’s having to relearn some basics himself, but compared to Bonnet almost every pirate is more adept at handling life at sea.

Izzy watches with a keen eye as Bonnet reloads his pistol, still struggling with the small moving parts of it but getting better. The captain had at least handled guns in his past life, though he’d clarified that he didn’t enjoy hunting like some bored rich twats did, and he has an appreciation for their intricacies and their uses. It’s a start, but it’s not enough; in a raid, you need to be able to load your gun and shoot it with a greater speed and accuracy than Bonnet is capable of. Bonnet’s got to be able to do this in seconds with his fucking eyes closed.

“Izzy, what time is it?” Bonnet asks as he’s showing the gun to Izzy. He doesn’t have to do that, Izzy will just tell him when he fucks things up, but he does anyway.

Izzy nods his approval, which seems to be what Bonnet is looking for. “Almost an hour until lunch, still. Is your arm tired?”

“If I say yes, you’ll just tell me to suck it up.”

“You’re starting to get it.”

Bonnet scowls at the pistol, as though it’s somehow the gun’s fault that it takes effort and practice to use it well. “What happens when my arm gets so sore that I drop the damn thing?”

“That won’t happen,” says Izzy. “Learn your limits, push through them, and then put the gun down before you hurt yourself.”

“That’s a lot,” Bonnet says, his tone not quite a whine, but only just. He’s easy to read; Izzy can tell when he’s actually reaching his limit, and when he’s just being a brat.

“Piracy is a lot. Should have thought of that before you left your wife.”

“I think you might just like tormenting me, Izzy,” Bonnet says, but he’s already adjusting his stance and aiming his gun.

“Maybe I do,” Izzy says, grinning before he can stop himself. “It is nice to watch you put in some fucking effort instead of sitting around eating marmalade.”

“I never— well, maybe a little. But it was good marmalade, you can’t blame me for that.”

Izzy can blame him for whatever he damn well pleases. “This was your idea, Bonnet. You asked me to help you sharpen your skills. It’s not my fucking fault that Edward went easy on you.”

“He didn’t!”

“Spent more time trying to get your trousers off than helping you survive, didn’t he?” Izzy says, watching as Bonnet follows his instructions even now. He really is getting better; doesn’t fumble with things half as much as he did even a few weeks ago. Despite his grievances with Izzy’s teaching techniques, they’re working, and it makes Izzy’s heart swell with pride for him. It’s nice to be of use. “Listen, I don’t want you to wind up fucking dead in a ditch because you couldn’t load your pistol fast enough.”

Bonnet pauses, which is the opposite of what Izzy had wanted him to do, and looks at him with those hazel eyes of his, prettier than they’ve got any right to be. He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it again. It makes Izzy wonder for just a second if he’s gone too far, if Bonnet’s at a loss for words because of it. Stupid, right? Why would it even matter?

“I’m quite flattered you don’t want me dead, actually,” Bonnet finally says.

Izzy waits for more, like that’s surprisingly non-murderous of you (maybe) or though you do benefit from my leadership more than I from you (not a comment he will dignify with a response), but that seems to be it.

“And?” he says, when he’s decided that he’s sick and tired of waiting.

“And… that’s it! Did you expect more?”

“Yeah, kind of. You usually don’t shut up.”

“No,” says Bonnet. “I guess I don’t.”

And then: nothing. No attempts to argue back, no insisting that he’s the captain and shouldn’t need to shut up, nothing at all.

“Let’s continue.”

“Yes,” says Bonnet pleasantly, which makes the whole thing even more disturbing. “Let’s.”

The lesson continues as usual, but Izzy thinks about it for the rest of the day. When did Bonnet start shutting down their arguments like that? When did he start agreeing?

That night, Izzy sits among the crew in the room of the ship that passes for a mess hall just like he does every night. He’s never really enjoyed socializing during meals, they’re not meant to be fun, but if nobody sees him eating they send someone to his room to check up on him, and the whole thing is really just a waste of time. He’ll eat when he damn feels like it, not like the management around here enforces strict meal times, and everyone is making a fuss over nothing.

So Izzy sits and eats with the crew. Because they’re fucking busybodies, which he loves about them.

And lately, Bonnet does too.

The thing that’s most surprising about Stede Bonnet is that he really does know how and when to give Edward space. It hadn’t seemed so at first, with the way he was always by his side, but that wasn’t clinginess. Wasn’t Bonnet feeling a need to keep an eye on Edward around the clock either, like it often was with Izzy. They’d just been infatuated with each other, pure and simple. And Izzy, not recognizing that, had read the worst into it.

Bonnet still spends a lot of time with Edward, but they’re not attached at the hip. Right now Ed is hovering near the food, probably hoping to sneak seconds of dessert, and chatting with Fang. That’s new: he used to hide away in his cabin to eat, or at least claim his own table, as though it might mar the image Blackbeard projected even in front of his crew if they realized he ate just like any other man. There’s still a part of Izzy that wants to remind him of this, but he pushes it down, reminding himself that he’s retired the habit of trying to help Edward maintain the persona. Ed’s taken Blackbeard off like a heavy leather coat, and he knows that he can put him back on when it suits him, with or without Izzy’s help.

As for Bonnet, he’s slid into the seat directly across from Izzy. Which is odd, and odder still is that this isn’t an infrequent occurrence these days. And it’s no coincidence; he’s paying attention to Izzy, passing him the salt before he asks for it, shooting glances at him from across the table, that kind of thing.

“Hey,” Bonnet says, nudging him under the table with his foot. He ends up hitting the wooden leg, the fool, but Izzy can still feel the vibration on his residual limb. “Is the food good? I’ll tell Roach to make something else if it isn’t to your taste. He does that for me all the time.”

Izzy’s not a picky eater per se—you can’t be when you’ve only got a little bit of time to choke down whatever slop is available—but with the more relaxed pace of Bonnet’s ship, and the availability of snacks when they have the rations for it, he’s starting to eat more according to his preferences: simple dishes with ample salt and pepper. Maybe garlic if he’s feeling frisky. He has control now, in these little ways. It comforts him.

Dinner tonight is a rice dish that has a kick to it. Not unpleasant, but the flavor is overwhelming and it hurts Izzy’s mouth. “Too much seasoning,” he says, shrugging. It’s really not that big of a deal, and he’s not about to piss off the chef. “Makes it harder to eat. Waste of money to use all that spice at once, if you ask me.”

Bonnet’s whole body perks up, like he’s just been waiting for Izzy to complain. “We probably stole the spices, so don’t worry about the cost! But I’ll go tell someone, we can’t have you unable to eat.”

“Wait, Bonnet—“ Izzy says weakly, already knowing that Bonnet won’t listen—right, he’s already off. It really doesn’t matter all that much, and the last time he complained about the food, he nearly got thrown overboard. “Making a fuss over nothing.”

“He’s like that,” Lucius says from a few seats down. “He likes to have a problem to solve, then gets all excited when there’s a solution. Might as well just get used to it.”

Enrichment in his enclosure. Bonnet needs a lot of that, which really does do a lot to explain why he decided to be a pirate for no fucking reason.

Bonnet returns, a little breathless, just a few minutes later, and he places a bowl in front of Izzy. “Here!”

“How did we get yogurt?” Izzy pokes at it with the included spoon.

“Fang’s goats,” Lucius provides. Of course. “Dairy cools down the spices. Surprisingly good call, Stede.”

“I know how food works!” Bonnet says, sounding a tad put off. “Izzy, can you eat that?”

“Yeah, I can eat it,” Izzy says. He tries a spoonful; it’s plain, tart, and creamy. Good stuff. “This ought to be a special treat out at sea, so don’t waste it.”

Bonnet seems to be watching him carefully, and he looks satisfied when Izzy takes another bite, nods, and then scoops a little bit onto the rice. “Not a waste if it gets eaten.”

A few bites later, Izzy recalls something. “Didn’t you fucking laugh at me the last time we had something spicy? Thought it was funny I couldn’t handle it, didn’t you?”

“Oh, maybe? Did I?” He wrinkles his nose, making a show of how little he can recall. Playing dumb as usual, like he thinks that Izzy can be tricked into forgetting something that he knows is true.

“You did,” Izzy says. It doesn’t matter—if he wanted to resent Bonnet for something, he could find better things—but he enjoys getting reactions out of Bonnet. It feels good to bicker with his captain about something insignificant, a luxury he’s not had in a while.

“Well, I didn’t this time, did I?”

The yogurt and rice swirl together nicely. This probably isn’t how he was meant to eat them, but it’s damn good, and Izzy’s going to go to bed full. “No, you didn’t,” he says, after another bite. “You’re losing your touch.”

Without so much as an invitation, Bonnet thrusts his own spoon into Izzy’s food, scooping up a little bit of everything. Izzy scoffs as he takes a bite, nods, and smiles. “I like this better,” he says.

Izzy’s not sure if he means the food, or the banter, or… “Whatever you say, Captain.”

“Hmm,” Lucius says.

They haven’t bickered about anything in a week, and it’s making Izzy antsy. Weird how things change: it used to be that Bonnet’s very presence put him on edge, but now if his captain isn’t going out of his way to make Izzy’s life harder, it feels… wrong. Just when he was finally getting used to his new captain, his new crew, his new life, things are changing again. It’s too much.

“Hold on!”

That’s Bonnet again, speak of the devil. He’s dashing through the hallway in that stupid low-cut shirt and those ridiculously tight leather trousers of his, racing toward Izzy and then past him, and… opening the door a few paces away.

“What the fuck?” Izzy asks. “Where did you come from?”

“Down there!” says Bonnet, pointing down the hall triumphantly, which explains exactly nothing. Well, whatever. He’s just in a fucking hurry for some reason, and Izzy kind of hates to say it but Bonnet can take care of whatever it is himself. “Go on!”

Izzy just stares.

“I’m… holding the door?” Bonnet says, looking Izzy dead in the eye. He sounds serious, though sometimes it’s hard to tell. “For you?”

“Pirate captains don’t hold doors,” Izzy says. That’s not actually true, but this feels strange, and he’s got to say something.

“There’s no such rule. Ed does it for me all the time, and he’s as much of a pirate captain as they come.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Isn’t it fucking obvious? Edward does all of this for Bonnet because he’s stupidly, head over heels in love. Once Izzy finally acknowledged that was what it was—not a sudden, inexplicable madness, not Bonnet seducing Edward and messing with his head—it became very clear that all of the odd, out of character things Ed was doing were nothing more than his attempts to seduce Bonnet right back.

That’s not the case for Bonnet and Izzy, though. It’s got to be something else.

“You don’t need to fucking baby me just because I lost my leg,” Izzy says.

Bonnet flinches as Izzy walks through the door. Bingo, Izzy thinks, slamming the door behind him.

“You should have told me you cannot handle spicy foods,” Roach says, bisecting a potato as though to punctuate his words. “But then again, I probably should have guessed.”

After so many years on ships, climbing the ranks until his skills and reputation got him a position as Blackbeard’s first mate, the last place that Izzy expected to be at fifty-fucking-six was helping to clean and peel potatoes. It should have been demeaning—he was still the first mate, even if he wasn’t Blackbeard’s!—but things were different on Bonnet’s ship and the crew expected him to pitch in with menial tasks like this one, no matter how much he might insist it wasn’t in his fucking job description.

Once he was forced into it, Izzy found that he actually rather liked working in the kitchen. It was important work, fairly predictable, and talking to Roach always made for good conversation. Never complained about it these days.

Now, he’s got a knife in one hand and a potato in the other, and he’s happily peeling away. “Doesn’t matter. Wouldn’t have killed me. Bonnet makes a fuss about everything.”

“Don’t I know it. You know he told me that my peach tart didn’t have juicy enough peaches? We are on a boat! What does he expect!” He shakes his head, a few ashes from his cigarette falling just to the side of the cutting board. “But you two are getting along quite nicely. Now, that’s something I’d never expected.”

“Kind of a stretch to call it getting along.”

Roach isn’t entirely wrong, though. Compared to the way things began—Bonnet making a fool of him in the woods for no damn reason; Izzy attempting a bit of murder once or twice—their relationship has been going smoothly. Of course, most things are smoother than those days when he’d truly thought that Bonnet was in the process of actively ruining both his life and Edward’s. There’s no reason to be antagonistic now, not really.

He’d thought that Bonnet agreed. Now, he’s not so sure.

Izzy jabs his knife into the potato he’s peeling, trying to dig out an eye. It’s probably not the most effective technique, but it’s got a track record of working for other types of eyes, so—

“He’s trying to make a fool of me,” Izzy says.

“Oh?” asks Roach, raising an eyebrow. “And it does not need to happen vice-versa, because he happens to be a fool already.”

“Keeps treating me like an invalid, like I can’t take care of myself anymore. Think it’s because of my fucking leg, now he feels sorry for me.” Izzy clicks his tongue, annoyed at the memories. “I don’t want his pity. Not anyone’s, but especially not Bonnet’s.”

“Is this about the yogurt?”

“It’s about everything. He’s getting things for me. When I get pissed at him, he doesn’t fight back any more.”

Roach nods. “Not taking the bait. Might be wise.”

“Sure, whatever. Yesterday he held the fucking door open for me, like he still thinks he’s some kind of gentleman and I’m… you know.” Izzy pauses his angry peeling and looks down at himself: old, tired, crippled. Nothing like he used to be, not that Bonnet ever knew him at his best. Most days he’s not upset about the changes that came with age—they mean he’s alive, which is far fucking better than the alternative—but you can hardly say he’s aged well, and Bonnet can see that. If he can’t pull his own weight around the ship, what’s the point of being here? Letting Bonnet pamper him works well enough for Edward, but that’s different.

“Like he is courting you,” says Roach, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Ah, Lucius said that, too. I didn’t believe him at first, but now I see.”

“What? No.” He rejects the words automatically, only processing them a moment later. Then, his reaction is: What the fuck? No.

“He is being polite to you, little man, what else would it be? The captain only holds doors open for people he is trying to charm, and everyone can see how you two look at each other.” Roach waves his knife as he gestures, and Izzy watches it glint in the light, unable to make eye contact. “Of course, things might get a little complicated with Edward around, but I’ve seen stranger things unfold.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Izzy. He can’t entertain what Roach is suggesting for even a moment. Can’t let that kind of thing happen between a captain and a first mate, it never turns out well, ask him how he knows. “Bonnet’s just being a prick.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’ll be surprised.”

The potatoes get peeled quite thoroughly, which makes for a good distraction, but after all the dinner prep is done and he’s eaten there’s still a whole evening ahead of Izzy for Roach’s words to eat at him. The man’s intentions are good, best as Izzy can tell, but courting? Ridiculous.

His own feelings for Bonnet are… complicated. Fond, more than anything, but he’s still the man that turned Izzy’s life upside-down, and though little resentment lingers now it’s not exactly the strongest foundation for a relationship. On top of that, Bonnet is the captain, and Izzy shouldn’t— no, he’s not even going to go down this route in the first place, he doesn’t want Bonnet to court him, and that’s final.

Bonnet has Edward. Edward has Bonnet. They love each other, and that’s enough.

Izzy paces his small room, restless, trying to remind himself of what he knows is true: Bonnet is an insensitive twat. Bonnet thinks he’s better than everyone, and he thinks that Izzy only recently became something moderately more tasteful than a piece of dung stuck to his shoe. Bonnet probably enjoys having a first mate who needs his assistance, helps make his big head even bigger.

It’s not anything else. It can’t possibly be.

He’s got to talk to him.

It’s not that late yet, but soon enough the captain and his boyfriend will turn in, and Edward absolutely can not get involved in this. He’ll do it now.

“Captain!”

Izzy enters the cabin without knocking, as he always does; Bonnet’s said from the beginning that the crew is welcome to drop in on him at any time, and that included Izzy. They don’t all take him up on it but Izzy certainly does—he hates knocking anyway, waste of time, the same way that small talk and pleasantries are—and at this point Bonnet only jumps a little when Izzy pushes the door open a bit too hard, hard enough that it hits the wall.

“Izzy! You frightened me,” Bonnet says. Not irate, not scolding, just says it, matter-of-fact. “What’s going on?”

It’s strange. Would be disarming if Bonnet hadn’t been giving him this shit for weeks, but at this point Izzy’s just pissed off. “Stop being so fucking polite.”

“Um,” says Bonnet. His face visibly falls, and he’s clearly not expecting such an accusation. “Pardon?”

“For weeks, you haven’t bitched at me for one single thing, and I am fucking sick of it. You probably think I’m not smart enough to notice what you’re doing, but I wasn’t born yesterday.” Izzy had planned to perhaps take a softer approach, to give Bonnet half a chance to explain himself, but the frustration’s been building. Talk it through, his fucking ass. Bonnet’s going to listen to him. “I won’t stand for this kind of behavior, and I won’t stick around if that’s what you think I’m good for.”

For a moment the captain is speechless. Good, he knows Izzy means business. He closes his eyes, and takes a shaky breath before setting down the book he’d been flipping through. When he opens them, he looks like he’s about to cry. Despite everything, Izzy feels a pang of guilt, like an arrow straight through his chest. Fuck, when did he start to care so much about whether Bonnet was upset?

“I had no idea you felt that way,” Bonnet says, wringing his hands. He glances down at them, then stops, like he’s decided he shouldn’t be wringing them but now having hands at all is a bother. “I’ll stop. I just thought—well, I suppose I misinterpreted your feelings about me. Foolish, really, to think that I had any kind of a chance.”

Suddenly, Bonnet looks very small. Small and ashamed, like a little boy who’s gotten caught being naughty. And though Bonnet’s been an ass, it’s Izzy who wonders if maybe he’s been unfair. “What… chance?” Izzy asks, a sudden pang of guilt in his chest. A small one, maybe, but it’s there.

“Well, you know! It doesn’t matter, if you’re not interested.” Bonnet pouts. “You’ve been very popular with the crew these days, I’m sure you can find someone who’s a little less of a twat than I obviously am. Your standards may be high, but I understand.”

“My standards, my ass,” Izzy says, searching for some explanation, anything to grab hold of except for the most obvious one. “Just stop being so condescending, and we won’t have a problem.”

“Condescending?”

“You don’t have to force yourself to baby me just because I’m your first mate, or because of my fucking leg, or because you feel bad about what happened when you were gone, or whatever other fucking reason you think I need special treatment.” Maybe, Izzy reasons to himself, Bonnet just needs everything spelled out for him clear as day. Twat. “Just… act fucking normal.”

“There’s no need for false accusations just because you don’t want me flirting with you! That’s just rude, Izzy!”

Izzy’s stomach does all sorts of strange things at that. Fuck, seriously? Roach and Lucius were right? “The fuck do you mean, flirting?”

“I’ve been going out of my way to be kind to you even when you’ve been frustrating me—“

“You were flirting?”

“—and all because I wanted to put my best foot forward, and you don’t have to reciprocate, but—“

“Bonnet, you’re already buggering Blackbeard—”

“So? I’ve got plenty of free time.” Bonnet crosses his arms, defensive. “You can’t tell me who to date, you’re not my father.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Izzy says, stepping forward, searching Bonnet’s face for any signs that he’s lying. The alternative is just too much for him to wrap his head around in the heat of the moment. “You’re clearly fucking with me.”

“Excuse me for thinking that if I like someone, I should try and make an effort to be kind to him! Something that you, I suppose, have never attempted.”

Izzy searches his memories for something, anything that might have clued him in that Bonnet might be interested in him in that way. He comes up with nothing. “You thought you could just be weirdly polite all of a sudden, and I’d be so charmed I couldn’t help but date you?”

“Well, it worked once! And I don’t exactly have a lot of experience beyond that! Are you seriously telling me you’d have fallen for me if I’d just kept acting the same way I always have with you?” Bonnet’s speaking more forcefully now, louder with each sentence, standing tall and confident. It’s familiar, comfortable. Izzy likes it.

“Yes! I miss it, all right? I do!”

“I’ll give you a piece of my mind right now, you unpleasant little man!”

“I’ll gladly listen, you absolute fucking twat!” Izzy spits, and flips Bonnet off for good measure.

They’re standing close now, their faces not so far apart. Bonnet’s only got a few inches on him, but like this it feels like a lot, and Izzy finds himself staring at Bonnet’s mouth—his big, stupid mouth, his lips that look so soft even after months at sea—more than anything.

“Good!” says Bonnet. “Because I like fighting with you! It’s fun! You keep me on my toes!”

“And I like when I can take you down a peg, even though you never know when to fucking listen!”

“You always assume the worst of me!”

“You always think you know what’s best, even when you don’t have a fucking clue!”

“You said my hair was stupid last week and I didn’t even get a chance to fight back!”

“Your hair did look stupid! Don’t fucking slick it back, it looks so soft!”

“You— oh, thank you, actually.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Fuck you.”

“I don’t think you mean that.”

Izzy flips him off again, this time with both hands. “I mean this,” he says. “Bitch.”

“Is this the part where we kiss?”

There’s a moment there, where Izzy seriously considers it. Thinks better of it, of course they’re not going to—well. Considers it again.

“No,” says Izzy, finally. “Were you seriously trying to court me this whole time?”

“Clearly! Did you actually think I was being nice to you because you’re down a limb?” Bonnet sniffs. “You can still run circles around me, I’ve seen your swordplay lately, you’ve barely slowed down.”

“I… did,’ Izzy admits. And then, because apparently he’s trying to talk it through like a pair of adults now, he adds: “Thought there was no other reason you’d go easy on me. But I guess I misjudged you. Like I misjudged a lot of things.”

“Thank you,” Bonnet says, softly.

Izzy realizes suddenly that this is really the first time he’s admitted any fault to Bonnet’s face. Mostly, he’s just changed his behavior and figured that Bonnet would notice, but sometimes you just have to say it.

“I don’t think you’re a twat. Not the way I’ve used to. You’ve been a good captain.”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to apologize for that. You call everyone a twat!”

“Most people are,” Izzy mutters.

“But—Izzy?” Bonnet’s perked up now. The man really does manage to run through the full spectrum of human emotion in record time, no wonder he’s so good at keeping up with Edward. “Does that mean you’re all right with my taking an interest in you, as long as I do it right?”

Stubborn, Izzy thinks. Probably stubborn enough to get what he wants.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“So, if I said I’d make you dinner—"

“Only if you’re a bitch when I tell you there’s not enough salt.”

“I’ll use enough salt!”

Izzy grins at that. “Perfect. There we go.”

“You’re very odd.”

“So are you.”

“…but that’s why I like you,” Bonnet adds, and looks at him, hoping.

“Nice try. You’ll have to work a little harder to get any of that nonsense out of me.”

Bonnet smiles, then flutters his eyelashes like a loon. Cute, Izzy thinks, though he’s not exactly about to admit that. Best to keep Bonnet on his toes now, make sure he knows he’ll have to work for it if he really wants to make Izzy his.

Getting seduced by Bonnet, huh? Strange to even consider it, and there’s still a part of Izzy that thinks he really ought to shut the whole thing down, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it. Might not be the worst thing he’s done.

But only if Bonnet earns it.

Chapter Text

“When you asked me to your cabin at dusk, I thought you were trying to bugger me,” Izzy grumbles. He might have even preferred it that way, but instead he’s stuck waiting patiently on Bonnet’s sofa, which has been all stabbed to pieces and then patched up ‘til almost good as new. It’s not that he minds being here, just that there’s a lot going on around the ship and Bonnet doesn’t really need him here right now. Izzy likes being useful, not sitting around waiting for something to happen.

“Oh? Why would you say that?”

Bonnet’s poking around in a hidden room, one that Izzy’s never paid much attention to. He hadn’t known it existed at all until Bonnet returned to the Revenge, and while the inclusion of secret passages on the ship is clever, they’re not being used for anything important, just more things. Bonnet calls it the auxiliary wardrobe. Izzy isn’t sure why anybody would want a whole room just for clothes.

Then again, Izzy’s alive thanks to a different secret room, so he figures he won’t complain about that bit.

“I thought you said that you were trying to seduce me,” Izzy says, rolling his stiff shoulders. It’s been a few weeks since Bonnet stated those intentions, and since Izzy told him that if that was the case, he shouldn’t be fucking weird about it. To Bonnet’s credit, he’s been about as normal as he seems to be capable of.

The captain peers out of the room, looking so excited he’s practically about to sprout a tail just so he can wag it. “Is this how you’d want to be seduced?”

Izzy sighs. As though he’s given any thought at all to that? Not exactly a priority of his. Historically, he’d fucked whoever was available at port when he needed the release, or on rare occasions a fellow crew member who didn’t seem like he’d be too weird about it. (Everyone on Bonnet’s crew would, of course, be weird about it, so it’s been a while.) Romance isn’t out of the question for pirates, but it’s always been out of the question for Izzy, who preferred to focus on Edward. And he’d loved Edward, yes, but he figured that out too late. Not like he’s about to romance him any time soon. Or ever.

As for Bonnet, well… Well. Or not so well, which is how he feels when he thinks too hard on the fact that Stede fucking Bonnet is apparently trying to get into his smallclothes.

“Just get fucking dressed, I’m busy.”

He’s not, is the thing. The crew isn’t quite working like the well-oiled machine that was on Blackbeard’s ship, but they’re perfectly competent. And when a first mate can trust his crew, he has time to spare for the captain and his whims. With Edward, it meant drinking games and knife throwing (with Izzy or at him, depending) and fine-tuning Blackbeard’s image; with Bonnet, there’s more…

Nonsense.

It’s all nonsense.

“Izzy,” says Bonnet, like it ought to be the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m getting you dressed, too. And that’s the part that’s going to take the longest, I know what clothes I want to wear.”

“So you can bugger me,” says Izzy, flatly. “While I’m wearing clothes you like.”

There had probably been a time when Izzy would fall for that kind of thing: touches that the giver only pretended were innocent, a gift of something valuable and expensive. Now is not that time. At fifty-six years, Izzy is no longer vulnerable the way he was when he was a boy. It’s obvious that this is all peacocking, Bonnet showing off how even with half his wardrobe tossed away, he’s still got plenty to spare. It pisses Izzy off a little.

Bonnet sighs. “If you could clarify whether or not buggering is on the table at all, I would appreciate it.”

Izzy sighs wearily, but he does recognize that what he’s saying is unclear. “It’s not on the table. But if it was, I would be taking it off right now.”

“Like a feral cat,” Bonnet says, nodding. “Knocking a cup of water down the moment he decides he’s displeased with it.”

“Like a first mate who thinks you’re worrying about the wrong things. Why the fuck do you want me to change?”

“Well, Ed told me—”

“Always has to do with Edward, doesn’t it?”

“He’s my partner, you know!” Bonnet scoffs. “We do talk to each other! Something that you and he should consider exploring as well, might I add.”

“No need to even bother with me at all, when you’ve already got someone.”

Greedy bastard. Izzy shouldn’t even be entertaining this, if he’s just going to be added to Bonnet’s harem.

“Ed told me,” Bonnet repeats, sounding like he’s trying too hard to be patient, like he’s speaking to an unruly child. “That you are terribly stubborn, and nothing I could say or do would ever get you to change your mind about anything. But that isn’t entirely true, is it? You’re a different man from the one that I met, oh… when was it, again?”

“Last summer,” Izzy says. He doesn’t remember the exact day, though it’s in the ship’s log back at the Queen Anne. It never gets cold in the Caribbean, not like it did in his native England, but he recalls that day being especially warm and humid. Not like he’s keeping track of it, like he would some kind of anniversary. “You were a right twat while I was trying to do my fucking job and get my hostages back to my fucking ship.”

“And you pointed a sword at me! So I think we’re even.”

“You deserved it.”

“The point is,” Bonnet says, crossing his arms, not even pretending to be paying attention to the contents of his closet now, “that you’re nicer to me than you used to be. And I’m nicer to you. Which I would call progress.”

Thing is, he’s not wrong. Izzy might even venture to say that they like each other now. “I don’t want to wear your clothes,” he says, decisive. It’s not even that he hates everything that Bonnet wears, but the captain is highly excitable, and they don’t exactly have the time to play dress up. Besides, Bonnet has all sorts of materials in there, and Izzy’s got sensitive skin.

“All right,” says Bonnet. “Then you won’t. Let’s do something else.”

Izzy nods, stunned. He’s not used to winning fights with Bonnet so easily, though he’s well aware that now the captain is making a conscious effort to be agreeable. Sometimes.

“Like what?” says Izzy. Hopefully it’s something that’s a little more up his alley, like the training they still regularly do.

“Well, now I’m thinking about buggery, so—”

“No.”

“Whatever I can do to get your trousers off?” Bonnet suggests, grinning. Bounces on his toes a little bit, like an eager school boy.

Strangely, Izzy can stomach the thought of sleeping with Bonnet. That’s not the part that worries him. Bonnet isn’t bad looking, and if Edward’s demeanor after their nights together is anything to go by, he even knows what he’s doing in bed.

The problem is that Izzy’s already falling for Bonnet. And that, nobody can ever know, least of all Bonnet himself.

“No makeovers,” says Izzy. “And no fucking. Takes two of your favorite things off the table, I know, but you’ll have to manage somehow.

‘How about a bubble bath?” says Bonnet, which just sounds like a roundabout way to see Izzy’s cock.

“Waste of time,” says Izzy, ignoring how it makes Bonnet’s face fall. And how he feels just a little bit guilty about that. “Finish getting dressed, and then let’s get a move on. There are some things in the ship’s logs that I’ve been meaning to go over with you before we next make port.”

They do make port smoothly, and Izzy finds himself yet again swept up by his new captain and whisked away to be a part of his whimsy.

“Why am I here, again?” Izzy grumbles, following just behind Bonnet as they weave through narrow city streets. When he’d reminded the captain a few days ago that they’d be on land soon, he hadn’t meant to agree to spend that time together, but things had happened that way regardless. It’s hard to keep up with Bonnet’s brisk walking pace especially with his leg, but like hell is he going to ask the man to slow down. He’s older than his captain as it is, and it’s only recently that Bonnet even cares about keeping Izzy alive; can’t give him an opportunity to change his mind and decide to put Izzy out to pasture after all.

“You’re here because I asked you, and because you said yes,” Bonnet replies, chipper.

“I said yes because you’re my fucking captain and I know how to follow orders.”

“Izzy…” Bonnet stops, turns. “Do you not want to go shopping with me?”

“Got better things to do than carry your purchases. Obviously.”

Izzy’s hands are empty now, but he knows Bonnet well enough to know where this is going.

“Such as?”

He’s got Izzy there. Most of the crew has already dispersed, and Izzy’s in no mood to track them down and find out what they’re up to. Could stay back on the ship, but much as Izzy’s growing fond of her, it’s good to spend some time on land.

Besides, he doesn’t hate Bonnet, despite all his efforts to do just that.

“Such as, you’re a twat,” says Izzy.

“Mmm!” says Bonnet. “There it is. You know, Izzy, it doesn’t mean much for you to call me your captain if you’re going to insult me right after. But at this point, if you didn’t, I’d be afraid that something was wrong.”

He pats Izzy on the shoulder before resuming walking. It almost seems affectionate.

Soon enough they’re stepping into a spacious shop, its walls lined with a rainbow of fabrics. Izzy has to admit—to himself, not out loud—that the color selection is impressive, and his gaze is drawn to a few of the deeper blues.

“Of course we’re buying you clothes,” Izzy says, shaking his head.

“I’m the gentleman pirate, as you’ll recall. And I spent months only owning a few shirts, so excuse me for needing to make up for lost time.” Bonnet’s not actually apologizing or excusing himself. Naturally. “Now, I sent them an order ahead of time so I have a suit ready to pick up, but this is the perfect chance to put in another one.”

“Another one.”

“You’re always wearing the same thing,” notes Bonnet.

“Astute observation. I like my clothes.”

Izzy can’t remember the last time he bought new clothes. Most of what he owns is stolen, and all of it has been salvaged, repaired, reinforced whenever it was damaged. Bonnet, when he has his way, doesn’t even wear the same outfit long enough to get holes in it. For Izzy, putting on his same leathers every day is comfortable in its familiarity, every piece fitting him just the way he likes. Wearing something different every day—adjusting to the new fabric, the fit, the drape, everything—sounds distracting and exhausting.

“They suit you,” says Bonnet, nodding. He looks Izzy up and down, as if he has to double check to confirm. Izzy straightens up a bit on instinct. “Like having a jacket in every color suits me.”

“Fine,” Izzy grumbles. Bonnet does seem happier when he gets to have his nice things. It’s such a simple, uncomplicated joy, too. He’s easier to please than Edward is these days. “Enjoy your little outfits. As long as we keep stealing enough to afford them.”

The shopkeeper greets them then, and Bonnet is escorted to the counter, then the changing rooms to try on his previous purchase, leaving Izzy behind to entertain himself. The only other person there is an assistant who eyes him nervously and decides to ignore him, which suits him fine. Let Bonnet do all of the talking and Izzy can glower in the background, he’s good at that.

With nothing better to do, Izzy looks over the bolts of fabric everywhere: on shelves, leaning against walls. They’re organized by color, then material, which doesn’t seem like the best approach, but what does he know? They’re fabrics for the rich, the kind of thing that Blackbeard’s crew has raided from merchant ships on occasion, but Izzy’s never felt the need to really examine the material beyond figuring out what they can sell it for. Now, his hand lingers at times, appreciating things that are soft and smooth. Just like Bonnet.

The next day, Izzy’s reclining comfortably in the captain’s cabin, doing nothing of any particular urgence. The sea is calm, and they’ve yet to spot any other ships on the horizon; if he didn’t know any better, Izzy might mistake this for a pleasure cruise, with all the spare time he’s got to work on his whittling. And thank goodness for a sharp knife and near-endless supplies of scrap wood that keep his mind sharp and his fingers nimble.

Bonnet’s gone and switched to practical boots most of the time, having finally realized when he was forced to wear them that there was a damn good reason no other sailor dons his formerly-favored clicky little heeled shoes, but Izzy can usually still hear him walking around, and anyway he’s got a good view of the door. So when Bonnet comes into the room, a flash of blond hair and maroon and peachy pink fabrics in the corner of Izzy’s eye, Izzy barely looks up.

Funny. Bonnet’s presence doesn’t phase him any more. He’s just an expected, every day aspect of Izzy’s life.

“That is my chair, you know.”

Izzy looks away from his whittling, down to where he’s sitting—at Bonnet’s desk, his legs propped up on top—and shrugs. “You’re not sitting in it.”

Before Bonnet thinks to ask what Izzy might be working on, Izzy tucks the small bit of wood away from those prying eyes. He’s too curious, too eager; those are some of his best qualities, too, but oftentimes they add up to nosy, and Izzy hasn’t decided yet if what he’s working on is going to be a gift for Bonnet or not. It depends on if… well, it depends.

“Because you are,” Bonnet says, clicking his teeth. “How am I meant to sit there if you always get there first!”

“If you’re slower than me, I really can’t help you. Could ask me to move.”

“Will you move, please?”

“No.”

Bonnet sighs very loudly, but makes no further attempt to get Izzy out of his chair. It’s become a kind of ritual for them: Bonnet complains, then makes a request of Izzy, and then Izzy decides whether or not to listen. A simple thing, but the back-and-forth banter is comforting. Bonnet’s standing up for himself, which is important in a captain, but he’s also respecting Izzy’s opinions.

Izzy’s not used to being respected. Feared, yes. Begrudgingly obeyed, yes. Respect? It’s strange, especially coming from Bonnet. It’s why he spends so much time in the captain’s cabin. Bonnet’s good company, when he’s not being off-putting and insufferable.

Bonnet decides to sit in one of the repaired armchairs instead, sinking into the yellow fabric for only a moment before he bolts back up again. Out of the corner of his eye, Izzy watches as he retrieves one of the bundles from today’s shopping, a small paper package. It doesn’t seem important, only then Bonnet comes back over to the desk to join Izzy.

“I almost forgot,” he says.

And… hands Izzy the package.

“What’s this?” Izzy asks, taking it automatically, like he always does when his captain hands him something. There’s a squish to whatever it is, under the paper.

“Open it.”

He does. It’s something silken and grey-blue, and as he hands the paper back to Bonnet, the gift nearly slips right out of his fingers.

It’s a scarf, its size and shape similar to the one he always wears around his neck, made of one of the luxurious fabrics they saw while shopping earlier today.

Izzy examines it, thinking that there somehow must be more to the object than that, but there isn’t.

“When did you get this?” he asks, befuddled.

Bonnet’s bouncing on his toes a little, for some reason. “I went back to the shop later, when you were discussing this week’s menu with Roach. Before we’d left port. You seemed interested in the fabrics, and I thought if you weren’t ready to completely change your look, you might want to try this.”

“I see,” says Izzy.

“Put it on?” says Bonnet, softly. Almost sweetly. Like he’s a boy hoping to be accepted, not a grown man telling Izzy what to do.

Izzy sighs. Bonnet’s so pathetic sometimes that it’s hard to tell him no.

He slips his ring off of his scarf first, tucks it into a pocket hidden in his vest, then takes the scarf off. It exposes a little bit more of his upper chest than he usually likes to show, but Bonnet’s already snuck up on him while he was shirtless, so it really doesn’t matter. Around his neck, under his shirt collar, goes the new blue scarf.

“It suits you,” says Bonnet, stepping forward. “May I?”

They’re close, suddenly. Izzy feels compelled to step forward to match Bonnet, and he doesn’t chase that urge but it’s a near thing. “You may,” he mumbles.

People don’t touch Izzy often, he realizes as Bonnet reaches to adjust the scarf, evening out the ends. Not in this gentle way that makes him dizzy with anticipation. Izzy motions for Bonnet to wait, and he slips the ring back on before Bonnet moves to tie the scarf into place. There’s care in it, though for Izzy or for the fabric, he really can’t say.

As long as Bonnet’s hands linger, Izzy has to remind himself to breathe.

It makes sense, but also, it doesn’t make any fucking sense at all. Bonnet’s an idiot, and he’s melodramatic, and panics over everything, and he’s only just now starting to learn to be a halfway decent captain. Why the fuck would anyone fall head over heels for that man, of all the people in the Caribbean?

Izzy tugs at the scarf, not enough to choke himself, just enough to feel it. The emerald ring rests there, same as it always has. “You’re a pirate,” he says. “Next time, just steal it.”

“Noted,” says Bonnet, cheerful. “But… that means you do like it, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

There’s no good reason anyone on this earth should want to kiss Stede fucking Bonnet, and that’s why it’s so fucking alarming that Izzy wants to kiss Stede fucking Bonnet.

Chapter Text

His job, he reminds himself, is to keep his captain content. Fat lot of good that did with Edward in the end, but with a new lease on life and a new captain, he’s just got to recommit. That, Izzy tells himself, is why he’s bothering with this. Not because of the way Bonnet’s eyes sparkle when he smiles. Not the warmth of him when he pats Izzy on the shoulder or when their swordplay together draws them close. It’s because Izzy has a job, and that job just happens to include keeping a close eye on Bonnet, seeing to his needs, and indulging his whims.

Hence the marmalade.

He bought it a little while back, and has yet to present it to the captain. On one hand, if Bonnet’s giving Izzy gifts, he probably expects some in return; on the other, his gifts might all be part of his grand scheme to seduce Izzy, and mirroring that gesture could be assumed to be Izzy’s way of flirting back. Izzy’s not stupid; he knows all about the little stolen moments that Bonnet and Edward have had here and there, giggling and eating bread or scones topped with the sweet and zesty spread. It’s probably all very romantic to Bonnet. He might even ask Izzy to steal away with him to the crow’s nest for their own little snack.

Maybe that’s all right. Bonnet really has managed to do something to his brain.

“Your boyfriend is spending a lot of time with me,” says Izzy to Edward, but not to Edward. They haven’t really advanced to the stage of sitting down and having a proper conversation about their feelings yet, but the sound of Edward’s footsteps doesn’t make Izzy flinch the way that it used to, and likewise Ed doesn’t look at him like he’s smelled something bad. Funny that Bonnet, the very thing that challenged the limits of their relationship in the first place, is now the main thing that they have in common. Funny and a little sad.

“Oh, yeah?” says Edward, sounding entirely unbothered. Izzy’s only realized recently how much of a performer he really is, the ways that his nonchalance can hide his more difficult emotions. “He wants to bugger you.”

“I’m aware,” Izzy says, and suddenly there’s a funny feeling deep in his stomach, tight and sharp. Fear, he realizes. If Bonnet has misunderstood, if Edward’s actually not fine with all of this, that’s that. He’ll never actually be with Bonnet.

“Will you?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Edward sucks air through his teeth. Doesn’t bother Izzy, who’s just glad that his former captain isn’t getting stabby these days. “If you’re worried about me, don’t be. Stede’s a big boy and so am I. Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a cock.”

“Fuck off, everyone has fucked Rackham at least once,” says Izzy. He feels a strange sense of relief at that, and it’s only then that he realizes how seriously he was considering actually doing this. “What’s he doing to us?”

“We’ve always had the same taste in men, Izzy.”

“He’s fucking with me. Can’t you tell him to stop?”

“Nah,” says Ed, and when Izzy turns to look at him he’s staring dreamily across the sea. Thinking, Izzy assumes, of all the things Bonnet’s done to him. “I won’t. Not for anything.”

So that’s that. “Good talk,” says Izzy, quite sincerely, because Bonnet’s apparently rubbing off on him. It hasn’t really changed anything, and yet a new sense of determination flows through him. Bonnet really does seem to have a certain calming effect on Edward, and besides, Izzy doesn’t want Edward miserable despite everything, so he supposes he just likes knowing that whatever Bonnet is up to it won’t disrupt the dynamic that some of the twats on board are calling gentlebeard. Izzy likes the calm, the harmony. The good work they’re all able to do together. No relationship is worth making the rest of his life miserable. But he’s getting ahead of himself again, and he can’t seem to stop it. There is no relationship, and yet Izzy’s thinking about things like there inevitably will be.

He tugs absentmindedly at the new scarf around his neck, the soft and silky texture soothing against his hand, and turns to go back to his cabin before he changes his mind.

Fortunately, he doesn’t run into Bonnet, so he doesn’t have to explain his gift. The jar of marmalade gets left on Bonnet’s desk, beside maps and ink and a skull that Bonnet picked up to use as a paperweight. (“Not very gentlemanly,” Izzy had said when he’d first proudly placed it there. “But very piratey!” Bonnet had responded.)

That’s that. Izzy decides not to think about it anymore. As though he’s remotely capable of not overthinking anything.

“I don’t really understand why you don’t just go for it,” Jim says, out of the blue. They’ve been trying to get to know Izzy lately. Seems to think they might have some kind of kinship, and they’re not entirely wrong. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The captain. Stede. You’re always checking him out. Olu thinks it’s a bad idea, what with how he goes around breaking hearts, but I don’t think he does it on purpose.”

“I don’t check him out, I’m just the first mate. I’m babysitting.” Izzy makes a point to look away from Bonnet, who had indeed been in his line of vision, but just coincidentally. He’s hard not to look at, the way he’s always dressing up and making noise and wearing low-cut shirts like the harlot he is. “If he’s trying to fuck me that’s his own time to waste.”

“Yeah. Sure. You don’t even look at Blackbeard like that any more.”

Like what, Izzy is afraid to ask, suddenly filled with an awful, entirely illogical fear that everyone on this ship can read his mind. Maybe that’s why they all seem to know exactly what will get his goat. “I heard there was a time you didn’t talk,” he says instead. “Maybe go back to that.” Fucking crew and their fucking happy relationships, all tangled up and intricate and yet seemingly never so complicated that they can’t talk things through.

Jim just grins and flips him off.

Fuck.

He hadn’t known that Bonnet would be here in the galley when he came down for a snack. Bonnet’s not allowed in the kitchen at all when Roach is cooking, after the orange cake incident Izzy has heard so much about, and he’s not especially inclined toward cooking for himself. Or cleaning, for that matter—and yet here he is now, washing the dishes.

“Oh,” says Izzy, dumbfounded.

“I wanted to help!” says Bonnet proudly, arms covered in suds.

“You don’t need that much water,” Izzy remarks. The basin is overfull, and water’s getting all over Bonnet’s linen shirt. The dish soap probably won’t stain, but if it does, he’ll never hear the end of it.

“I don’t take advice from you unless you’re helping too.”

Izzy raises an eyebrow. “That so? Haven’t heard that one before.”

“So? Are you going to join in or just watch?”

Coming from someone else it might sound lewd, like how Ttwatty’s been offering to let Izzy join in with him and his husband (or Fang, or Jim, or…) but Bonnet just seems to want company. Izzy wonders, vaguely, if Bonnet would develop an interest in anyone that listened to him chatter long enough.

Izzy sighs—makes a show of it, really, can’t let Bonnet know that he doesn’t mind doing kitchen labor these days if the conversation is good—and rolls up his sleeves. He catches Bonnet watching as he takes off his glove, looking slightly alarmed at the old scars, but Bonnet doesn’t say anything.

“Are you going to ask?” says Izzy, stepping forward and reaching into the lukewarm water. It’s been so long since he tried to carve the name out of his skin that it barely hurts to talk about. Bonnet’s heard worse already.

“Do you want me to? Ask, I mean.” Bonnet wrinkles his nose, thinking. “Usually one doesn’t, in polite company.”

Izzy snorts. Bonnet remembers at the strangest times that he’s well-bred. Like Izzy hasn’t seen the man falling over himself drunk, hasn’t overheard how he yells when he’s being buggered properly, doesn’t know how loutish Bonnet can get when he’s mad with power after a kill. A gentleman isn’t so special, and the rules of upper class society mean next to nothing. “Show me any polite company on this ship and I’ll eat another fucking toe.”

“I’m trying to be nice!”

“Well, stop it. Ask me about the scars or don’t.”

A beat, then Bonnet decides to take the plunge.

“Where did you get those scars?” he asks.

“Self-inflicted,” Izzy says. “Had to get rid of an old tattoo.”

“Mmm.”

He probably wants more of an explanation but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask. Izzy gives him one anyway. “I met someone when I was a boy. We were well-matched. Until we weren’t.” Izzy shakes his head. “It’s not good to get too attached to people in this life, and if you do, for heaven’s sake don’t get a fucking tattoo of their name.”

Bonnet’s smiling at him oddly now, and when he notices that Izzy can tell, he looks away, still grinning dumbly at the ceiling. “I can’t imagine it! Izzy Hands, so in love he gets an impulsive tattoo…”

“I gave it to myself, actually.” And he’d been so proud of it at the time too, the lines of the name barely shaky at all. It was the first and last time Izzy had put ink into his own skin; all the rest of the time it had been someone else.

“So you do have a romantic side.”

Izzy shrugs. “I did. Don’t read too much into it though.”

“You got me marmalade,” Bonnet says, and when Izzy turns to look at him he’s blushing a little.

Here Izzy pauses, not completely willing to admit that the marmalade was his doing, and yet unable to deny it. “You like maramade,” he says, by way of explanation. He says nothing about any connection to romance; Bonnet can draw his own conclusions about that.

“We’re not even out. You got me marmalade that I don’t even need. Imagine that: sweets from a sourpuss.”

“Then don’t fucking eat it,” Izzy grumbles, suddenly overwhelmed. When Bonnet calls him sour, his stomach feels like he’s eaten a dozen lemons. This is why he doesn’t court anyone. Too complicated, too strange. And too many chances for the other person to make him feel like a fool. His hands move through the water in the sink as he seeks distraction, something easy to do to help him ignore whatever this is.

“I didn’t say I don’t want it. It’s the right kind, you know. Extra rinds, for a nice texture. I like that it’s a little chewy. You knew, didn’t you?”

“No,” Izzy says. “Coincidence.”

“I know you’re observant.” He pauses, then: “Actually, too observant sometimes. You’re a little creepy, slinking around in the shadows.”

“Wash the fucking dishes,” says Izzy, plunging his hands deeper into the water, still coming up with nothing.

It’s good to be in control; Izzy hasn’t had much of that in his life, between a dangerous and unpredictable job and a series of bosses who have all seemed to operate on some combination of whimsy, impulse, and death wishes. He’s got no control over the captain whatsoever, barely has any influence on him some days, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to give him a straight answer and just fucking say it: yes, Bonnet, fine, you’re sweet and creative and even a little cute, and maybe I would like to be someone special to you.

The thought of admitting it practically makes him break out in hives. Knowing that Bonnet will then proceed to spend weeks gloating about it even more so. The famous Israel Hands, on his knees for the fucking gentleman pirate—though Bonnet barely even knew of his reputation, he’d been surprised to see how many pirates from other crews actually offered him some fucking respect.

Watching Bonnet squirm is more satisfying, Izzy decides. There’s a certain pleasure to it when he asks to spend the night in the captain’s cabin only to not so much as touch Bonnet or fiddles with his new scarf without acknowledging who put it there or leaves another gift on Bonnet’s desk—a little carved pony this time, because he regularly talks about the horses he used to have—and then pretends he doesn’t know how it got there.

“Pete whittles,” Izzy says. “Must have been him.”

“Pete’s specialty is missing fingers,” Bonnet protests. “And bigger things. Limbs. I don’t know if he has the dexterity for this, it’s very intricate”

“It’s all right.” He barely looks at it, or at Bonnet at all.

Bonnet raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’m already very attached to Pete’s creation, so I’ll find somewhere safe to put it.”

They’re pacing themselves with raids. No more than strictly necessary; the crew voted on it a few months ago and everyone, save for Bonnet, agreed that it was for the best. Even Izzy, who at one point would have said that it was important to take a little more than you need just to save it up for later (bury it if you have to, though Ed’s always been funny about buried treasure, thinks it’s “uncool”) is just fine with the slow pace. After a few months of stealing more than they could shake a stick at, and developing severe trauma in the process, nobody really wants to do it again.

But it makes Bonnet restless. Like Edward, he always wants to be doing something. Unlike Edward, he’s not about to torture his crew or give them a collective nervous breakdown just because of that. And against his better judgement, Izzy worries. Frets, even. Despite the fact that Bonnet seems to have the remarkable ability to get himself out of any mess he puts himself in, he still feels compelled to keep an eye on him. Supposes he just likes to feel useful from time to time.

It’s finally a raid day today, perfect weather for it too, and they’re coming up on another ship. It’s a merchant vessel, no cannons, the right size for Bonnet’s skill level. By all rights, the captain should be excited, eagerly buzzing around, reminding the crew of the plan and their roles the way that he does when he’s in a good mood and gets full of nervous energy all at once. And Bonnet is moving around, but it’s unfocused, unproductive.

“The fuck are you doing?” Izzy asks after the third time Bonnet fidgets with the rope that connects the anchor to the ship. “Go remind Frenchie of the secret code or something. We’re not dropping anchor yet. Shouldn’t need to at all if the sea’s good to us.”

Bonnet looks up at him through those stupid, fluttery blond lashes, a little pouty. “I did that already.”

“Then fucking—”

“Izzy,” says Bonnet, patiently, rubbing the brim of the ridiculous feathered hat he found somewhere and now insists on wearing everywhere. “Everything is done. I took care of it. Didn’t you notice?”

It’s true; the ship is in good repair, the crew is informed and well-rested and ate a good breakfast. Even Edward’s in on it, peering through a telescope from the crow’s nest, having decided that keeping watch from a distance is his “new thing”, which is actually a great idea. There’s not much at all that they have to do other than wait.

“It’s fine. It’s really fine.”

“Then sit still, you’re making me nervous.”

Bonnet stares at him for a moment, like he’s expecting to hear more from Izzy. Like he’s hoping for something. Izzy’s throat suddenly feels dry.

But when Izzy says nothing, Bonnet eventually looks away. “I suppose I can’t do anything right in your eyes,” he mutters, just loud enough that he probably knows that Izzy can hear him.

“What was that?” Izzy says, like he doesn’t already know. He’s not angry but it comes out like he is, his voice still sharp by default after decades of trying to turn himself into a knife.

“Nothing.”

Izzy lets it be nothing.

But even when they begin to fire warning shots at the other ship, he’s still thinking about it. As they lay planks across between the two vessels, he wonders if Bonnet just wants his approval so he’ll agree to fuck him. Bonnet, of course, takes the front and Izzy, slower than most of the group but good at keeping an eye out for danger, takes the rear. He’s not used to this. The pure, naked affection that doesn’t have to be anything more than that. Not used to receiving it from anyone else, and not used to feeling it.

Just then, Bonnet lets out the shout that he likes to call his battle cry, signaling to everyone that the real fight has begun.

The raid turns out to be more difficult than expected. Sometimes, merchants just surrender straight away, but that’s not a guarantee especially now that they don’t fly under Blackbeard’s flag. Sometimes they put up a fight, but not much of one. But then there are days like today when the crew of the Revenge is met blade for blade and gun for gun, the sailors having armed themselves and even hired a few mercenary fighters for extra protection. Shit. It’s not really a shock—this is becoming more common lately, since every idiot with an empty pocketbook and a death wish wants to try out piracy now that Bonnet’s gaining a reputation—but it’s a pain in the fucking ass.

Still, all they’ve got to do is defeat all of the men with weapons, or defeat enough so that the rest surrender, and Izzy’s managed to do a lot more than that in worse circumstances. A few men descend on him, one after the other, likely seeing him as an easy target with his wooden leg, but he barely breaks a sweat fending them off even under the hot Caribbean sun. Anyone who expects him to be weak has another think coming; their skills are barely more than what you’d get if you handed a blade to a babe.

The rest of the crew seems to have little more trouble than Izzy; some of them are already descending below the deck or searching the dead and downed for weapons and treasures, splitting up in pairs and threes as they’ve been told, making every effort to watch each other’s backs. Jim’s off with Archie, and Frenchie and Roach are fine, and… fuck. Of course.

“Fucking Bonnet,” Izzy mutters, running to the captain.

It’s not Bonnet’s fault that there are several men on him, nor that they seem to be the strongest of the group. It’s obvious that he’s the captain; if they hadn’t picked it up from his outfit or his devil-may-care attitude they certainly have by the way he’s announcing himself as their swords clash.

“As captain of the ship Revenge,” Bonnet pants, in between parrying, “I shall not give in!”

“Revenge on what?” one of the mercenaries cackles, unaffected and unworried.

“Revenge on… um, many things! Why do you ask?”

Another one of the mercenaries stabs at his stomach and he just barely squirms away, swinging his sword wildly. It’s not much of a technique, Izzy knows, but it looks impressive and a little unhinged, and a lot of the time that’s all you really need. Bonnet doesn’t have to be good at swordplay; he’s just got to be good at winning, and half the time that just means scaring your opponents into assuming that you’re tough. Izzy taught him that, and Bonnet had been surprised then to find out that Izzy knew just as well as any of them that piracy was another form of theatre. But of course he did; there was a reason he and Edward had worked together so well for so many years.

“Just wondering,” the man says, shrugging. With that, he pulls out his pistol.

“Yikes!” says Bonnet, surely knowing that it’s hard to get a good shot in at such close range and also knowing just as well that if the man manages, he’s totally fucked.

Because of course he’s always got to have a flair for the dramatic, of course he needs to let everyone know that if he fucking dies the rest of the crew is in trouble, of course—

Of course Izzy pulls out his own pistol and aims for the fucker’s skull.

It feels like everything moves in slow motion for a moment as the bullet flies true and hits its target, killing the man instantly and sending him tumbling to the ground. Bonnet’s eyes widen as some of the blood splatters across his face, and then Izzy’s running to him, desperate, anxious, knowing without a doubt that he needs to be by Bonnet’s side, now. He can swear he hears Ed cheering from way back at his position on the Revenge as he clasps Bonnet’s hand and they stand there and fight, stronger together, ready to take on the world.

“Izzy!” Bonnet shouts over the din, and Izzy stupidly turns to look at him.

“We’re in the middle of—”

“Do you like me now? At least a little bit?”

Bonnet is wild eyed and frantic and Izzy desperately wants to grab him by the face and kiss him silly.

“We’ll talk about it later! Pay attention to the fucking fight!”

“I can’t believe after all that you still practically lost your fucking eye.” Izzy shakes his head, leaning down to take a look at Bonnet’s stupid, beautiful face. Bonnet looks up at him from his seat on the deck, rubbing his watering eyes like he’s the most miserable man in the world. The clash hadn’t lasted much longer after Bonnet’s first brush with death, but there had been a moment where it seemed like the captain was about to get stabbed before he managed to get a good solid knee into the attacker’s groin and send him tumbling down. “Can’t let you ruin that pretty mug of yours.”

He pauses just as he’s reaching for Bonnet’s face, which is now remarkably pink. Fuck.

“Didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Izzy mutters. He supposes it was inevitable, though; Bonnet’s so fucking good at getting Izzy’s guard down, and frankly he probably does it on purpose. “But I’m sure you know you’re good-looking, you spend enough fucking time on your hair.”

“Do you think my hair is pretty?” Bonnet squeaks.

It’s… well, it makes Izzy feel an awful lot like how he felt the first day they met, that awful, wonderful sensation that he’s looking at something so sweet and precious that he can’t fucking stand it and he has to destroy it to ease his mind. Like he wants to watch Bonnet bleed and whimper and cry, but only if he’s the one to do it.

Difference is, now he also wants to wipe those tears away afterward. It’s fucking confusing.

“Yeah,” says Izzy. “Your hair is pretty. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.”

“I’m glad you saved me. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Then you’re an idiot,” Izzy says, feeling terribly fond. He pulls his hand away, worried about what he might do with that fondness if he doesn’t keep it in check. “But you did a good job, the raid went well. Crew’ll be eating good for weeks.”

Around them, the crew have scattered to collect the merchant ship’s treasures. Most of the men on the ship survived, but they’re all knocked out or tied up or surrendered, so Izzy and Bonnet have a few spare minutes for this conversation as the thrill of the battle rushing through them dies down.

Bonnet frowns, which is odd. He’s usually eager to soak up praise. “No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not an idiot. Don’t call me that.”

“I’ve called you worse. I’ve fucking stabbed you, Bonnet, an idiot is—”

“I don’t like it,” Bonnet sniffs decisively. “I try very hard to be good to you, and you’re always so sneaky about being nice in return, and only when you feel like it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!” Bonnet sounds more worried now, more frantic, like he’s not sure he should even be saying this. “I know you were always fighting with Ed, and we’re always fighting, and I just… where do we stand, Izzy?”

And that’s the moment where it all comes crashing down and Izzy realizes it’s not fun anymore. Bonnet isn’t nervous and squirming; he’s worried. And as much as he loves to watch him squirm, Izzy would be lying to himself if he said he wanted Bonnet miserable.

Which means he has to dodge the truth, and get Bonnet to truly back off once and for all. Or else he has to tell it.

The man sitting in front of him is an idiot, and he’s so fucking brave. Izzy might just owe it to him to be the same.

“The pony was from me,” Izzy says.

“Oh?”

“The fucking little wooden—”

“No, I know. I knew it was from you. But that’s just what I mean, you’re so sneaky...”

“If you want to fuck me, you can. Just do it.”

“It’s more than that. It’s not just sex, and I don’t think that’s what you want.” Bonnet pauses, then: “I mean, that’s just a hunch. You should tell me more, I want to hear it.”

“Does it even matter?” Izzy mutters. He looks away from Bonnet, his stomach in knots. “We’re pirates, we don’t have time for these things.” It’s a stupid excuse, and he knows it. But it’s what he told himself for so many years, when he was madly in love with Edward, when there was at least a chance that Edward could come to love him back before he ultimately left him for Stede fucking Bonnet. He was wrong then and he’s wrong now but he just can’t fucking say it.

“We have time for these things here. We always have. Talk it through, right?”

“As a crew,” Izzy mutters automatically, but only because Bonnet’s trained him too these last few months. “I don’t mind that you’re trying to court me. I might even like it.”

Bonnet shifts where he’s sitting and looks up at Izzy with those round hazel eyes of his. Izzy’s always crumbled under a sweet gaze. Now that Bonet knows, now that Izzy can’t take it back, he is well and truly fucked. “Oh?”

“You’re a good captain, and an even better man. It took me a while to understand that, but I get it now. Might even be starting to love you.”

“Oh!” says Bonnet, jumping up with such an impressive speed that Izzy almost wonders if he hadn’t even been tired or sore from the battle at all. But that’s just it, isn’t it, Bonnet falls easily but he also gets up just as quickly.

“I don’t know where you get your energy,” Izzy says.

“Can I kiss you this time?” Bonnet asks.

“Fuck,” says Izzy, hoping that he’s not the one blushing now. “Fine.”

He’d expected Bonnet to kiss him like an eager little puppy, all messy and with too much tongue—because yeah, fuck it, he’s been thinking about kissing Bonnet. Just occasionally at first, just when he was bored or inebriated enough to entertain the idea, but ever since Bonnet’s confession more and more until it had become a daily thing. What surprises him then is how hesitant Bonnet is, how tender. Bonnet cups his cheek and pulls him in like he’s something that he could break, and Izzy’s breath catches in his throat as Bonnet runs his thumb across Izzy’s lower lip.

“Do it,” says Izzy. The words catch in his throat. “Do it or else.”

Bonnet raises an eyebrow, and it’s in that moment that Izzy realizes that he has the upper hand. Maybe he always has.

His breath is hot on Izzy’s skin as he leans in, time almost seeming to stop again just like it did when Bonnet was in danger. Why the fuck is he so nervous? Izzy thinks, as their lips finally meet, that maybe for him being in love has always been a little bit like dying.

Bonnet’s lips are soft but not shy, and almost as soon as they meet Izzy’s he’s already trying to press his tongue into Izzy’s waiting mouth. He’s obviously excited, but he kisses Izzy like he wants to memorize the shape of his lips and tongue, and there’s something about that which makes Izzy tingle right down to his toes. Izzy’s never been kissed like that, and frankly he’d always thought he wasn’t meant for it at all, like there’s really only one way things could ever go and it’s not like this, Bonnet resting just a little of his weight on Izzy, not quite trying to claim him but certainly making it impossible for Izzy to think of anyone or anything else.

It’s about as close to perfect as anything Izzy could imagine, and it’s all thanks to fucking Bonnet.

It’s not long before someone is whistling at them and someone else is yelling for them to get a room, and then they break the kiss and Izzy shouts that they’ve already got one, which only leads to a bout of merry laughter from the crew and the captured merchants groaning for them to leave already.

Later, he has to admit that Bonnet knows his way around more than just kissing. Though he does make Izzy put in more than his half of the effort, fucking pillow princess, he’s lucky Izzy gets off on that.

Later still, they’re watching the sunset. Or at least Izzy is, gazing at the endless glittering sea through the window of Bonnet’s bed nook. Bonnet is actually dozing off, using Izzy’s chest as a pillow. The sky is painted in reds and purples and the whole world seems to be entirely at peace. There’s something alien about the absolute tranquility, like it’s fundamentally wrong for a pair of bloodthirsty pirates who pillage and steal for fun and profit. But it’s here, and it’s real, and Izzy wonders how long he’s been denying himself a love like this for no reason at all.

Izzy’s hand finds Bonnet’s hair and he strokes it as he watches the sun move down under the horizon, so slowly that it almost feels like it, too, has turned lazy. He thinks of night watches and tomorrow’s breakfast, of distributing treasures and making sure that everyone learns how to get a little better at not getting shot. He thinks of Edward, too, because how could he not? Ed usually sleeps here too and that’s a whole other can of worms to open up and dump out onto the table to examine now that Izzy and Bonnet are… whatever they are.

“I wonder if you really love me,” says Izzy. Hard to believe that Bonnet would fall for him when there are better options. But then again, it’s equally hard to believe that he would ever be caught up in Bonnet’s tomfoolery, and yet here he is.

The wooden pony sits on the windowsill just out of reach, a soft pink glow seeming to light it from within.

“I do love you,” says Bonnet with a yawn. He squeezes Izzy’s tit a little while he’s at it, for good measure. “Just give up and believe it already.”

Of course, Izzy isn’t giving up anything at all. Not a damn thing. But it’s not like a little bit of sex—what Bonnet would call making love—is going to make him get all squishy and vulnerable. That’s not him; it’s not for him and it’s also just not how he wants to be, with Bonnet or with anyone else.

He’ll harden himself back up. Remind Bonnet that even though they’re captain and first mate now, and he supposes lovers on top of that, he’s not going to get any special treatment. Really. Not even if he bats those eyelashes and tries to get Izzy to tell him he’s done a good job. He’ll do it, because no matter how cute Bonnet is, he’ll never get the better of Izzy.

He will.

He wraps his arm around Bonnet’s shoulders and pulls him a little closer.

Tomorrow.