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Chapter Text

After the monumental shakeup of the loss of one captain and the marooning of most of the crew, status quo leaned across the sea to bearhug the Revenge with comedic ease: Stede Bonnet stumbled upon his stranded crew while leaving his former home, and their wayward ship sailed right back to them while they were on land, figuring out what to do next. (Incredibly, the first pub they walked into had Lucius bartending, the island being where he washed up after being thrown overboard.)

Such an implausibly tidy explanation was the short description. In actuality, the meeting happening at all was a total coincidence.

The commandeered Revenge made port because Izzy Hands had been stricken by fever, brought on by infection from his captain lopping off a toe, and everyone was convinced the first mate was wobbling within the doorframe of death, surely on the brink of tripping forward to freefall to his ultimate demise.

Most of the concern was valid.

Some of the concern was fear mongering gone rabid.

The original crew of the Revenge had been, to sum it best, dramatic ass fuckers, and the few remaining under the Kraken/Blackbeard/Ed Teach/Edward/whatever the fuck the now sole captain decided he wanted to be addressed as in the moment had not lost their whimsy. A few days of strict regime being inflicted kept them quiet. Then, as Ed gave into full time drinking (partly out of boredom, partly to keep himself from thinking about his role in the change of unhappy circumstances about him), staying away from the crew more often than not, the original crew wore down on the Queen Anne members brought over to cover the manpower needed to keep the Revenge running.

All the murdering and torturing did a good job of preventing the general public from catching on that, by virtue of working under Blackbeard, the Queen Anne crew was fully capable of matching the dramatics of their captain - little prompting was needed for them to join the Revenge crew’s wild imaginings.

“We haven’t seen Ed in two days,” Frenchie muttered, after Izzy had come out to shout at everyone then immediately stumbled off without actually making sure anyone was doing as he ordered. (It was lost on no one that he was having trouble with his foot.) “How do we know he isn’t dead?”

“First Mate would take over the position, wouldn’t he?” responded Jeremiah, one of the crew members from the Queen Anne. (Qualifications for the Queen Anne’s Revenge were simple: one, willingness to invoke violence, and two, wearing predominantly leather. Members didn’t even have to be men - a woman was among the number brought over, and Ivan had recruited another woman, called Archie, from the one time he’d gone to land.)

Jim - whom Ivan had released after realizing neither Blackbeard nor Izzy were paying enough attention - sneered. “Didn’t he blow at being captain? You said he got himself mutinied that evening of that same day.”

“That’s true,” agreed Fang, “but maybe he learned from that experience, and now he’s biding his time to try it again when it’s more advantageous.”

“Nah,” said Raul, another Queen Anne crewmate. “Mr. Hands wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself if Captain was dead. We’d know right away.”

Frenchie, Jeremiah, Jim, and Fang all thought over this statement.

“You’re probably right,” Fang conceded.

Jeremiah and Jim gave shrugs saying the same.

Only Frenchie couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Isn’t it weird, though? That we haven’t seen him? And now we’re barely seeing Izzy?”

“It’s been two days,” Jim argued.

Now Raul grew uneasy. “That many hours at sea is a long time.”

“What if,” Frenchie said, lowering his voice dramatically, “Blackbeard died and Izzy doesn’t know how to react?”

“Grief-stricken,” Jeremiah pronounced gravely, beginning to see the logic in Frenchie’s suggestion.

Fang frowned, worried. “He wouldn’t just…do nothing, like forever...would he?”

“You know him better than we do,” Jim pointed out. “You tell us. Would he?”

Fang, Jeremiah, and Raul looked at each other. All three were doing some serious consideration.

“All of you!” yelled Ivan, taking a few seconds from instructing the new recruit, Archie, on how to control the helm. “Are all of you seriously just standing around, doing nothing? Even those of you we brought over here?”

“Should be Izzy shouting that at us,” Frenchie said sadly.

That sat heavily on everyone, as they all walked away to do their jobs.

A day later, Archie brought up, “Is it normal for the first mate to be bleeding that much?”

“What?” Jim, who had been conspicuously distracted by Archie’s presence, hadn’t really been paying attention to the woman’s words.

“His foot.” Archie smiled nervously. “It’s been three days and there’s still blood showing up on his bandages. Uh, new blood. Shouldn’t it have stopped by now? Unless that’s a hobby of his? In which case - no judgment!”

“Fuck if I know, I’m not a doctor.” But Jim paused, trying to think if they’d noticed Izzy’s foot. “You know, I think you’re right. That isn’t normal.”

“Has anyone seen Izzy?” Ivan questioned, looking around the ship. He had essentially taken control since Ed and Izzy weren’t.

It was now a week without their captain making an appearance. Izzy’s showing up on deck was almost as scarce. He would hobble with the aid of a cane, sweat on his ashen skin, bark some complaints, then flee to his cabin - not to where Blackbeard was currently occupying.

For an uncomfortably long time, everyone waited for anyone else to give an answer.

Finally, Frenchie spoke up: “Maybe he’s dead, too.”

“Not Izzy!” gasped Fang.

Archie tried to offer reason. “Death comes to all of us, mate.”

“But Izzy!” Fang looked like he might cry.

Jim attempted patting Fang’s arm reassuringly, but they put too much strength into the gesture and, on realizing they just were slapping at Fang, abruptly stopped. “Cheer the fuck up. We can always call you a twat and tell you to get fucked. In his memory.”

“It’s what Izzy would have wanted!” Frenchie insisted, absolutely convinced.

Fang pouted. “It wouldn’t be the same, coming from any of you. Izzy’s fuck offs are special.”

Jim was a little offended. Frenchie and Archie couldn’t decide if they should be offended or not.

“Before you write him off as dead,” Ivan snapped, “wait to make sure he actually is. For all we know, he could just be asleep from exhaustion.”

Archie perked up. “So you’re going to check?”

“Why the fuck should I do that?” Ivan turned to Fang. “Fang, you like him best. You go see if he’s dead. If not, find out what’s wrong with him.”

While they waiting on Fang to report back, Jeremiah - failing to hide that he’d been eavesdropping - asked, “If Mr. Hands and Captain are both dead, who’s the new captain?”

Raul had also been listening in. “Ivan, obviously. Hasn’t he been acting as captain, these last days?”

“We don’t know that Izzy and Captain are dead, and I’m not going to be captain of you idiots, the bullshit of it all would drive me to an early grave.”

“Well, someone has to be captain,” Archie spoke up.

Ivan was not interested. “Put it to a fucking vote, then.”

Raul elbowed Jeremiah. “Jocosa can pass for a smaller, not gray Blackbeard. Get her a fake beard and that’s the position filled.”

Jocosa, the only woman from the Queen Anne crew (until Archie joined), upon hearing her name, had felt free to listen in on her crewmate. She did not at all like this proposal. “Fuck you, I’m not impersonating Blackbeard. I’d get killed in five minutes. He’s got a ton of enemies.”

Ivan looked at her thoughtfully. “It’s not really that bad an idea. You sure you don’t want to do it? Could save a lot of tedious meetings. Decision making. That sort of thing.”

Outraged, Jocosa yelled, “You said yourself - you don’t even know that they’re dead!”

“Oh. Right. Getting ahead of myself there.”

Everyone stood around awkwardly until Fang returned.

While not in tears, he was in a frenzy. “He’s not dead, but he really looks awful!”

Izzy was passed out on his bed, incoherent, feverish, his foot clearly infected.

No one was entirely sure what to do - people pushed into the room to take a look at the first mate. They were shoved out by others who wanted to see. “Yep, that sure is an infection,” was all anyone could agree on.

The dithering probably would’ve gone on until Izzy really did die, only Blackbeard stunned them all by arriving on the scene.

“Did you fuckers kill Izzy?” he asked suspiciously. “He hasn’t been by my room for days. Lil fucker better have died, or I’m going to kill him myself.”

He couldn’t actually see Izzy lying on the bed because of everyone in the room.

Almost everyone was too scared to say anything.

Everyone but Jim, that is.

Bravely, they stepped forward. “He’s probably going to die, and it’s your fault.”

“My fault?” scoffed Blackbeard, still not aware his first mate was in the room. “How do you figure?”

Jim turned, glaring at everyone blocking Izzy, and all of them - taking care not to come into contact with Blackbeard - obediently squeezed out of the room, leaving Izzy alone.

Creeping into the room, it was apparent that Blackbeard could not tell if Izzy was asleep or dead. Gingerly, he reached down and shook Izzy’s shoulder.

Izzy did not respond.

“Izzy. Iz. Wake the fuck up.”

Predictably, this made no change to the state of the first mate.

Uncertainty went to fear when Ed caught sight of Izzy’s festering foot, and he fell into a mild panic. “How the fuck did any of you let this happen?” he demanded of everyone else (now crammed into the hallway).

Jim had not lost their courage. “You were the one who did that to him. Then you got rid of our only doctor.”

Defensively, Ed addressed Ivan: “Not one fucking person from the Queen Anne knew how to deal with this?”

Ivan had expected to do his job, not take on the first mate’s and captain’s. His patience had run out days ago. “You said to bring over the bare minimum. No people with exceptional skills.”

Outcries came from the aforementioned crew at hearing how they were valued by their captain.

“We should fucking mutiny,” Jocosa snarled.

“If you were capable of mutiny,” Ed said dismissively, “any of you would have already tried it before now.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being the bones of the organization,” Ivan said diplomatically. “Guys like you keep our crew strong.”

That quieted down the grumbling - not that Blackbeard appreciated it. “Who’s at the fucking helm?” He didn’t allow any time for an answer to be given. “Tell them to take us to land.”

Fang was the only one who dared to remain close to Izzy. Kneeling beside Izzy, looking up at Ed, he timidly asked, “You’re not going to let Izzy die, then?”

“What the fuck, Fang? No, I’m not going to let Izzy die. Fucking hell. What kind of question is that? If Izzy dies, I’m killing all of you fuckers. So fucking get us to fucking land.”

Fortunately - once they brought the first mate to an inn and threatened a physician into attending him - Izzy did not die. He was extremely confused - not just from the fever, but from Ed’s change of mood.

“What the actual fuck?” Izzy asked groggily, waking to find Ed sitting by his bedside.

“Not sure this doctor can be trusted. I’m making sure he doesn’t do anything fucked up to you, Iz.”

Noting the nickname, Izzy unwisely said, “Captain, you did something fucked up to me.”

“You weren’t supposed to fucking die from it! Or almost die. Whatever it is you’re doing. Jesus Christ, Izzy. Why do you have to complicate everything?”

“Oh my fucking God,” Izzy groaned. To the doctor, he begged, “Just let me die. Free me from this fucking lunacy. God knows I’ve endured more than my share.”

“If I don’t save you, he says he’ll kill me,” the doctor responded, surely nettled by the insult of being deemed untrustworthy in addition to being under the duress of abduction.

“Fuck you too, then!” was all Izzy had the energy for, before passing out once more.

With an irate crew airing their grievances in pubs, word spread that Blackbeard was in town - and most of the original crew of the Revenge knew where to find their missing crewmates.

Which also left Stede Bonnet all too aware of where to find his boyfriend.

“Wait, seriously – you didn’t intentionally leave me?”

“No! Ed, you mean to tell me that you didn’t even look for me? Doing so never occurred to you?”

Embarrassed, Ed mumbled, “I got drastically caught up in my personal devastation. Once it seemed like I’d been abandoned, it didn’t feel like there could have been any other possibility at play.”

“Oh, Ed,” Stede said sadly.

“Sorry I didn’t look for you.”

“Don’t apologize!”

“Don’t say that, Stede - the way it turned out, I abandoned you, not the other way around. I should be apologizing. After all the shit you went through! I could have prevented that, if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own feelings.”

Confused, Stede said, “Why don’t we just say we both failed and agree that cancels out all wrongdoing?”

Ed frowned. “Isn’t that letting us both off the hook too easily?”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?”

Izzy had a harsh suggestion. “How about shutting the fuck up? And you, Bonnet, fuck off. Tell me this is a nightmare and you’re not really back.”

“You don’t have to interrupt,” Stede objected.

“Edward is sitting on my fucking bed. You’re inches away from me. Why are you two having this conversation here?”

Ed not only was sitting on Izzy’s bed, he had been petting Izzy’s hair throughout the whole time that he and Stede had been talking. “Of course I’m sitting on your bed, there’s one chair and you wouldn’t have wanted Stede this close to you.”

“Go anywhere else!”

The two were astonished into silence by Izzy’s incivility.

Indignantly, Stede said, “I think you’re being incredibly uncharitable toward Edward! He’s beside himself with worry over you! Thinking he could stand to be away from you is sheer cruelty!”

“Shame on you, Izzy.” Ed was trying not to laugh.

“I meant Bonnet!”

“You could be kinder, you know,” admonished Stede, “in light of the fact that you left my crew to die. Perhaps show some gratitude over my not being out for revenge?”

“What, for the marooning?” Ed asked in surprise. “Those were my orders. I had Izzy and Ivan dump off your crew. Uh…I should really apologize for that. Terrible overreaction, in hindsight.”

“It wasn’t Izzy alone?” Stede was taken aback. “The crew gave such a dramatic retelling of it…”

Izzy rolled his eyes, and, since Ed was practically leaning on him, Izzy decided to use Ed’s side as a pillow. Ed accommodated him, slouching into a better position for Izzy.

Stede wasn’t through with his dramatics. “But there was the betrayal!”

“Okay, right, there was that.” Ed wasn’t impressed. “So are you going to go after Spanish Jackie and the British fucks who were also involved?”

A little disappointed that he no longer had some grand plan of vengeance to scheme, Stede sulked. “I definitely wouldn’t want to go up against Spanish Jackie, no. Or the British - it’s enough that Chauncey is dead.” His tone turned smug. “The crew and I were doing a good job of making names for ourselves. I suppose the British would have come after me even if Izzy hadn’t interfered.”

“You see?” Ed viewed this as everything having been resolved. “That’s no harm done to you, and your crew mutinied against Iz anyway, so they should be good also! And I cut off his toe! All’s well that ends well!”

“You cut off his toe? Is that what happened to him, to send all of you here?”

“It was insubordination on my part,” protested Izzy. “I was out of line with Edward. He put me back in my place.”

Stede watched as Ed cuddled with Izzy. “Well, now I feel bad! I just took my crew at their word, even when it seemed odd that their supposed 'banishment of death' took them directly into my path. They weren’t out there a full day!”

“Because I made sure they were left in a high traffic area,” Izzy said wearily. “I had no desire to hold the responsibility for killing a group of harmless idiots.”

“Aw, Iz. You kept something awful from happening.” Ed gave Izzy a careful squeeze. “Stede, isn’t Izzy the best?”

“I suppose he’s not awful.”

Ed laughed.

Izzy closed his eyes. “You’re back together, now fucking leave and let me heal in peace. Or die. I’m not sure which would be preferable.”

Ed and Stede did not leave Izzy to heal or die. They stayed with him, talking to each other of anything and everything that came to mind, while their combined stupidity forced Izzy to fall back asleep, as Ed refused to let up his protective hovering.

Chapter Text

The crew of the Revenge moved back onto their ship, eliminating the need for the Queen Anne crew who had been filling in.

Blackbeard’s people were happy to be off. For them, going from the Queen Anne’s Revenge to the whimsical Revenge had been a solid demotion. Inconsistent leadership, sleeping on deck, no cook - what was the point in working non-stop to keep afloat a ship with no accommodations for her crew? They hadn’t particularly cared for Jim or Frenchie, the two Revenge crew members they’d worked alongside, so there was no loyalty inspired there. All held Blackbeard responsible for the injury of the first mate, with whom they had more interactions. (Mr. Hands would just call them fuckers, he wouldn’t stoop to personal insults such as calling them unskilled!)

Angry at their captain, resentful of Ivan, assuming because Fang was usually paired up with Ivan that Fang believed the same as Ivan (that his own crewmates were useless), the Queen Anne crew waited just long enough to see that Izzy was back on the Revenge and truly on the mend, before heading home.

The first mate was helped back to the ship by Ed and Stede. The latter had never intended to provide aid at all; Stede just wanted to make sure Ed came back. Seeing how slowly Izzy moved, and how he still appeared like he’d been trampled by a horse, Stede found himself fussing over Izzy in spite of himself.

Izzy wasn’t appreciative. “Fuck off! I’ve got Edward and a cane. I don’t need you!”

Ed was walking with one hand firmly on Izzy’s back. “No need to be so hostile, Iz! You look like shit! Stede’s just worried.” Ed mouthed a quick sorry at Stede.

Izzy grumbled something under his breath. All that was comprehensible was a half dozen variations of ‘fuck.’

Hmphing pompously, Stede stayed on Izzy’s other side, one arm at the ready for support should Izzy stumble. Izzy ignored him. Stede got to feel like he was being useful.

The whole crew of the Revenge was exceedingly shocked when the crew of the Queen Anne applauded as Izzy boarded the ship (via sitting on the barnacle-scrubbing-seat and being pulled up, looking as grumpy as ever). As the members of the Queen Anne crew were saying goodbye to Izzy (and pointedly ignoring Ed), it came to light for the Revenge crew that Izzy’s crew didn’t despise him.

“Are they relieved that he isn’t dead?” Stede curiously whispered to Ed, as they watched Izzy bestow a few words to each departing member of the borrowed crew.

“What’s that? They’re glad he’s not dead, sure, but it’s not just that - Izzy’s a fucking good first mate. He knows them, they know him, he’s reliable. You and your guys barely saw Izzy in normal mode, because you weren’t really being pirates seriously, and your crew kept dicking around when it was time to work.”

That had to be personal bias. “Normal mode? He was an asshole from the start!”

“He was doing his job! Being a jailor, getting the prisoners to render the ship sailable again, having them killed off when they fulfilled their purpose. That was the routine I decided on, years back, because it made Blackbeard look like a badass who shouldn’t be fucked with! Izzy didn’t choose it, but he sure as hell maintained it for me. Honestly, your crew needs to learn to differentiate between situational moods! They learned fuck all from his instructions! Most people would know full well how lucky they were, getting training directly from Israel fucking Hands!”

Probably true. Well, definitely true - Izzy wasn’t Blackbeard, but he was known all over. Stede felt he should show more grace. “His words weren’t lost entirely - I had Lucius write down all that we were taught!” Then Stede remembered that he himself had deemed Izzy too much of a bastard to be able to teach anything worthwhile, and that he’d largely ignored the first mate to moon over Edward. When it came to Izzy, had Lucius been told to commit his words to writing?

Similar doubt was shared by Ed. “Ah. But are you sure he actually wrote anything whenever it was Izzy who was doing the talking, or did he ignore Iz and just draw dicks?” Ed lowered his voice. “I would’ve drawn dicks. If I was in his place. Just saying.”

“Ed - you can write, can’t you? I can’t believe I haven’t asked before now.”

The question, meant for clarification, instead hit a nerve for Ed. “I can fucking write. And read. What the fuck kind of know-nothing, shit-for-brains do you take me for?”

“I wasn’t implying inferiority!” Stede was stunned by how badly the question had been taken. “It just surprised me, that’s all, how that was something I couldn’t answer for certain, after the time we spent together. I’m sorry to phrase it so carelessly. Most of my crew can’t read or write. I’d gotten accustomed to that being the default.”

The explanation caused Ed to relax. Now that he knew it wasn’t an assumption nor was Stede judging him, he elaborated. “Usually, I let Iz take care of all that. I was taught by my mother as a child, I do well without help, but - it’s boring. Izzy doesn’t mind. He offered one day, I took him up on it. He’s been doing it ever since.”

“Hmm.” What Stede had been getting from this conversation was that Ed was more dependent on his first mate than Stede previously guessed, and in the length of time that Ed and Izzy had relied on each other, Stede’s relationship with Ed was a mere second within an hour contrasted to the years the other two men had together.

He didn’t like that.

What a ridiculous thought. Izzy wasn’t Ed’s ex; he wasn’t even a threat.

Stede decided he’d do better to spend less time on inconsequential musings, and try to be more considerate in how he spoke to Edward. Maybe the crew as well. But Ed for sure. Really - asking if Ed could write? He would have been enraged if anyone had assumed such a thing of him!

Though appearing ready to topple over at any moment, Izzy - to everyone’s exasperation - refused to be led to his cabin to rest. “I want a good look at what I’m coming back to. Get an idea of how much needs to be fixed.”

Archie found this excessive. “We weren’t doing nothing while you were behind closed doors worsening your infection! Give Ivan some credit! He did a good job with us.”

The others who had been around for that - Jim, Frenchie, and Fang - had already forgotten most of what went down in that time frame, and were trying to recollect if their new crewmate was telling the truth.

With a piercing stare aimed at Archie, Izzy bluntly asked, “Who are you?”

In general appearance, he was fairly fearsome, but more than that, Archie was possibly the only crew member smaller than Izzy, leaving the new recruit doubly intimidated. “I’m Archie. Ivan hired me. Recruited me? I’m supposed to be here. I’m not a stowaway or someone come to spy on you guys or ransack the ship behind your backs or anything like that.”

“The question wasn’t, ‘What are you doing here?’ Obviously if you’ve been here on this ship for days, this is where you belong. I’m used to knowing everyone who works under Captain Blackbeard. My job is to know the crew. Now we’ve got a stranger. Is Archie a first name, last name, or are you the one-name-only type?”

“One name only,” Archie answered cautiously, as if suspecting she was about to be kicked off the ship since it hadn’t been the first mate or captain who had brought her aboard.

Izzy nodded. “And you said Ivan’s been dealing with you? Doing what, exactly?”

“He’s had me at the helm, mostly.”

“Sensible decision on Ivan’s part. Bonnet had the same crew member manning the helm, day in and day out. A foolish and irresponsible arrangement. With you added to our numbers, the shifts will finally be of reasonable length.”

“Fine by me,” Archie said with a shrug, only caring that her presence wasn’t being argued.

Ivan was overly smug at Izzy calling him sensible in front of everyone, enjoying the annoyance shown by all those not getting any compliments.

Buttons gave his approval: “Never did like being the only crew member held to responsibility by the captain. Much obliged, First Mate Hands.”

Not used to respect from the Revenge crew, Izzy covered his confusion by looking around.

Slightly apart from everyone, Jim and Oluwande kept locking eyes, looking away, locking eyes again, while every so often elbowing each other. Their crewmates who noticed chalked it up to some form of foreplay and returned their attention to Izzy.

Trading off between leaning on Fang’s arm and leaning on Frenchie’s, Izzy stumbled about the ship, verbally cataloging every detail that was amiss. The Swede finally asked him what he meant at one point. Seeing that the Swede was serious and not bullshitting to intentionally be a dick, Izzy plainly stated what was wrong. This encouraged the rest of the crew to start asking for explanations, and all of the crew of the Revenge actually ended the afternoon with a clearer understanding of what needed doing on their ship.

Ed did not eat supper with Stede that evening. “I was going to bring food to Izzy’s room and eat with him. Kinda hoping it’d do away with any negative energy I might have brought to the place.”

And before Stede could question that, Ed was gone.

Having planned on eating with Ed, Stede was not quite sure what to do with himself now that those plans had fallen through, and it looked like the crew had their own thing going on, so he collected his dinner and walked toward the captain’s quarters, alone.

He absolutely had not intended on stopping to listen outside Izzy’s door! Certainly not! Could Stede be blamed if the first mate was back to his usual shrill self? If Izzy didn’t want to be overheard, he should be taking care to lower his voice!

Izzy was in the middle of complaining. “Why the fuck are you telling me this?”

“Because I thought maybe my best friend would give a shit about my fucking honor being fucking impugned?”

“Best friend?” Izzy scoffed. “Since fucking when? Well, you definitely fuck off on me in favor of the first lay who comes around, so maybe you’re not lying.”

“Aw, Izzy,” Ed said with overflowing charm, “you know you’re my favorite, don’t you? You’ve been with me longer than anyone. You’re the only family I’ve got!”

“Again - since fucking when? When have you ever considered me family?”

“You’re practically my father figure!”

“What the fuck?” Izzy cried, his voice making it unclear if he was outraged or confused.

“A mentor?” Ed tried hopefully.

“Mentor would imply I’m listened to.” He really must have not wanted the subject continued, because Izzy gruffly said, “Bonnet fucking asking if you can fucking read is not fucking impugning your fucking honor. Think, Ed - you were together for two weeks, with you focused on ‘getting away from the uzsh.’ At any moment in all that time, did you ever once show evidence of being able to read or write in front of Bonnet?”

Ed sullenly grumbled, “He didn’t have to assume it.”

“Asking isn’t assuming.”

Stede, tilting his plate, nearly spilled his food onto the floor. Hurriedly, he tipped the dish upward in the other direction. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was Izzy Hands defending him?

“So you’re saying I overreacted?”

“I’m saying you’d be in an overall better mood if you’d stop putting words in other peoples’ mouths. Bonnet asked if you could read, he didn’t call you his illiterate boyfriend. With how besotted you two were acting, you never thought to mention the cultural difference of you being raised on oral storytelling?”

“...shit. That’s intensely different from being raised with books telling you everything. How the fuck do rich people even learn common sense?”

“Most of them don’t. We’ve seen that, haven’t we? But if Bonnet had known about your past, I’m sure the question would never have come up.”

Something damp touched Stede’s hand, and he realized he’d been tilting his plate so much in the opposite direction that it spilled after all - just onto him. Well, at least it hadn’t gotten on the floor. Quietly, he stole away to the captain’s quarters, the whole way trying to wipe the sauce off his hand and onto the rim of the plate.

Stede feigned surprise later on, when Ed came to the room and “suddenly” felt the need to start talking about his mother and the upbringing he’d had from her.

“Do you know, Izzy, that in the time Ed and I originally spent together, we spoke of a great deal of things, but never really of each other…erm, to each other?”

Izzy stared up at Stede in disbelief. He’d been repairing a net - a job that he could do sitting - with crew members coming up to him, asking questions. Stede had had to wait quite some time for his crew to leave Izzy alone.

The change in relationship mystified Stede. Overnight, everyone had flipped their opinion of the first mate, now having only occasional disdain for him, treating him the same way they treated everyone else. Was it because of Izzy’s foot? To Stede, an amputation followed by severe, life-threatening infection was perhaps more punishment than Izzy deserved. Maybe the crew saw matters in the same light.

Knotting the twine viciously, Izzy saw that Stede was not taking the hint of Izzy not wanting to engage. Izzy sighed. “What the fuck do you want, Bonnet?”

Encouraged, Stede eagerly moved the tools off a nearby crate and sat down. “I think I’ve been coming off on the wrong foot around Ed. Are there any issues that are best to not touch upon around him? Topics he finds especially disagreeable?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Izzy put the twine down on his lap. “The plan for your future with Edward is to…never speak of anything he finds upsetting?”

“I think it’s the least I can do!”

“That’s one of the stupidest fucking ideas I’ve ever heard, Bonnet, and I’ve had the misfortune of listening to the conversational drivel Ed and Jack Rackham have spewed while drunk together.”

Terribly rude. “Whatever that has to do with my attempting basic decency! Manners appear to be wasted on you. I guess I can just leave and you can blame yourself for the next argument Ed and I get into!”

“How would that be my fault?”

Stede stood up. “You could have helped! You refused!”

Some of the crew were watching. “Sit back down!” Izzy hissed.

Triumphantly, Stede perched back onto the crate.

Moving on to mend another hole in the net, Izzy failed in his task, merely undoing his own stitches. Forcing calm, he said, “So the idea is to never anger Ed. Or annoy him. You realize that even if by some miracle you managed to…to…predict every thought that crosses his mind, not allowing any of them to be discussed is going to do the opposite of what you want?”

“That’s sounding terribly tedious, with the way you describe it.”

“That’s because it would be tedious, Bonnet. Think about it. Never having a spur of the moment, natural conversation? And if you could somehow forever fend off everything offensive to Edward, at best, eventually he’d fall into one of his moods and take whatever innocuous statement you’d uttered and find fault in that. More likely, he’d just twist around something you’d said.”

Stede went over his options. There weren’t many. “So you’re saying I should be more open with Ed?”

“Oh my fucking God,” Izzy said quietly, before more loudly saying, “What the fuck do you and Ed talk about, whenever you’re together?”

Shrugging casually, Stede mentioned, “He tells stories of pirate life, I tell stories about the antics of the upper class. We entertain each other well enough!”

“Are you together or not?” Izzy demanded, frustrated.

“Well, we slept on the floor together last night, and probably will do the same tonight, but that’s because the bed isn’t big enough for both of us and it’s easier to spread some of the auxiliary wardrobe over the floor.”

“Auxiliary wardrobe?” Izzy looked like he was going to have a heart attack. “You had more than one fucking wardrobe on this ship? Where?"

Contemptuously, Stede informed Izzy, “I’m not convinced you’ve earned the right of knowing the location of the auxiliary wardrobe.”

Irate, Izzy ripped out all the twine from his botched patch job. “Shut up! Just stop talking! Don’t…don’t tell me anymore. Secret wardrobes? For fuck’s sake. You want advice? I’ll give you this: you and Ed both talk over everyone, and then of what you’ve heard, you rearrange to suit what you want to hear, be it good or bad. Let him talk. Don’t answer for him. If you’re unclear afterward, ask instead of inventing an answer. Why the fuck I’m even entertaining this fucking nonsense is beyond me.”

That did help. Stede stood up, smiling in gratitude. “You’ve simplified matters remarkably well! I think I know how to deal with Ed now!”

“Oh my God will you just fuck off already?”

The moment Stede got into the captain’s quarters, he was greeted with:

“Do you think Jim and Oluwande are tag teaming that Archie woman?”

Stede was more thrown off by the third name than by the proposition of a threesome among his crew (which happened all the time).

Unfortunately, Ed right away guessed the reason for the lack of response. “Archie? Only woman on this ship? Short, has dark hair, wears insanely voluminous trousers?” His eyes narrowed in consideration. “How much can she hide away in those pockets? Gotta be a hell of a lot. Bet she’s dead useful in a raid.”

“Oh…Archie. Of course I know who she is! I’m just having a little trouble adjusting to the additional crew!”

“Additional? When it’s a single person? The lone woman in a line up of men? And Jim?”

“Well, I didn’t hire her!”

“Neither did I, but it hasn’t stopped me from noticing her,” Ed couldn't help pointing out. He was sitting on the floor, surrounded by neat rows of cut up cloth strips.

Ed had asked if there were any clothes in the auxiliary wardrobe that Stede didn’t want, Stede now remembered. “Having an arts and crafts afternoon? You might have invited the crew! They love group activities!”

There was more than one strip of cloth in Ed’s hands, and he was braiding them into a thin rope. “Can’t do that. The crew need to do their jobs, don’t they? And if they saw what I’m making, they’d want one for themselves and I’m only doing a few of these.”

Stede sat down on the floor beside Ed, getting a closer look at his work. “And what is it you’re making?”

“Bracelets. Or armbands.” Ed reached the end of his braiding, carefully adding it to the small pile of ropes. He began lining more strips of cloth in a row on top of his outstretched thigh. “Thought it’d be a good excuse to get Iz in some fucking color for a change. He can work his way up from there. But then I thought, ‘What if Stede wants a bracelet too?’ and then it occurred to me that all three of us could have matching bracelets. Armbands. Whatever we want to wear them as. Might be cool.”

Pleased to be included, Stede said optimistically, “I think Izzy has really started to warm up to me! He actually offered me advice when I asked for it!”

“For real? About what?”

“How to better conduct myself.”

Ed gave a sharp laugh. “You asked Izzy for etiquette lessons?”

“Of a sort, I guess. He’s older, haven’t you ever wanted his opinion of anything?”

This was not an inquiry that Ed had seen coming, and he had a full moment of silence wherein he came up with the observation: “That’s something I haven’t bothered with in far too long. If I’d talked to him more, maybe things would have turned out differently. Better.”

“What do you mean?”

Ed’s eyes were lowered, fixed on the fabric he was handling. “If you tell someone they’re your only family, and their response is, ‘Since fucking when?’ then you’ve done a shit job of showing you care for that person, haven’t you?”

He wasn’t supposed to have heard Ed and Izzy in the first mate’s cabin, so Stede merely said, “That can’t be taken positively, no.”

“I fucked up with Izzy,” Ed announced.

Unsure how to safely respond without revealing he’d been eavesdropping, Stede picked up one of the finished braids, his fingers following the twists of the blue and green fabrics, multiple things now intertwined into one object. The knotting was done in such a complicated way that Stede couldn’t tell how many pieces of cloth were making up each rope. “Do you consider Izzy to be family? Your family?”

“What else would he be?” Ed sounded flustered. “He’s just…always been there, man.”

“He works for you, Ed.”

Amused, Ed faintly smiled at Stede. “No shit. You think I’d forgotten?” His smile then downturned to a frown. “It’s not like that, Stede. Any future I think of always includes Izzy. Him not being there would be like me losing a limb. I’d have to figure out how to adjust to fucking everything.”

“Then it’s very fortunate that Izzy would never leave you.”

“Wouldn’t he?”

“He hasn’t yet. Why would he suddenly do so now?”

“Could think I don’t need him, now that you’re here.”

This made Stede feel guilty without understanding why. Wanting to reassure Ed, he said desperately, “Have you tried spending more time with Izzy?”

“I’ve spent more time with him than anyone! It’s done fuck all for making him believe me!”

“But did you spend that time as captain and first mate, or…as friends? Family members?”

“What do family members even do?” Ed asked. “Besides fight?”

Stede could only speak of his own experience. “Tell you you’re wrong. About everything you say or do, or how you’ve done nothing to earn what you have, when you never asked for it in the first place.”

“Christ. Sounds miserable. I should have told Izzy something else. Anything else. No wonder he threw a fit.”

“Ed, you want to be closer with Izzy. For your sake, I want him to like me. I’ve been trying to ask for his advice, but what happens when I run out of things to ask? You know what he likes – ”

“Making plans and sticking to rules.”

“ – what if you…were sort of a chaperone? To keep Izzy and myself in line?”

Completing another braid, Ed held it up, pinching the ends and looking through the loop created. “That’d be more of a mediator, wouldn’t it? But you’re onto something - I keep saying everything except what I want to say to Izzy. I hate it; I keep vowing that I’ll treat him better, then I fucking don’t.”

“Might both of us have an easier time dealing with Izzy if we were both holding each other to our respective goals?”

This was enough of a plan for Ed. “At the very least, it couldn’t hurt.”

Ed finished the first bracelet or armband or whatever it was going to be (he couldn’t seem to quite make up his mind about it), and Stede went with him to give it to Izzy.

The first mate was not in his cabin, nor was he in the galley. When Stede and Ed went outside, onto the deck, the first thing they saw was Jim, Oluwande, and Archie – the three huddled in conversation that was looking far too intimate to be taking place right in the middle of the ship.

“Get a room if you’re going to fuck,” Ed called in passing.

The trio reacted as if Ed had thrown a bucket of water on them.

“We’re talking,” Oluwande corrected, overly defensive.

“Is talking a fucking crime?” Jim snarled.

“Talking isn’t fucking,” Archie supplied, and then unhelpfully contributed, “except when you’re doing it in a sexy way.”

“Which you three were clearly doing,” Ed taunted.

Jim and Oluwande turned on Archie, and the three fell into arguing as Stede and Ed walked on.

“They’re definitely fucking,” Ed pronounced, with the gravity of someone having made a monumental discovery.

“Everyone’s fucking everyone on this ship,” Stede said gloomily. “I wouldn’t mind, but throwing Archie into the mix stands to complicate things.”

“Jim never had you worried?”

“I thought they were a man for weeks, then after I found out they weren’t, I assumed they were so terrifying to the rest of the crew that any little Jims happening were out of the question.”

“Makes sense.”

They found Izzy keeping company with Fang, who was having a turn at the helm.

“Captain. Other captain,” Fang greeted blandly.

“How are you, Fang?” Stede asked politely.

“Good, good. Even better now that Izzy’s been staying off his feet. Used to be you’d have to tie him down to get him to rest!”

“That’s not fucking true!” Izzy barked.

“No,” Ed disagreed, “it’s definitely true.”

“Do you and Bonnet need something? Why are both of you here?”

“Ed has something for you!”

“It’s a bracelet!” Ed held it up. “Or an armband!”

“Whichever you would prefer to wear it as,” explained Stede.

Izzy did not accept the bracelet/armband. If anything, he appeared utterly confused by the offering.

Ed didn’t know how to take this response.

Stede, concerned that Ed would go back on a promise they’d both just made, tried to fix things. “Ed made it! With his own hands.”

“Awww,” Fang gushed. “Izzy, you’re so lucky!”

Fang’s words got through to Ed, restoring his confidence when he’d been growing dangerously close to regretting how he’d spent his afternoon. “Put it on!” He moved to wrap it around Izzy’s wrist, the one with the glove.

“Not around my glove! That’ll shred right through it!”

“And if it’s around your other wrist,” Ed decided, “it’ll probably catch on things. So it’s an armband! Stede, why don’t you help Izzy with it?”

“Me?” Not understanding why Ed didn’t want to do the honors himself, Stede nevertheless took the braided length. “Well, if you insist!” It gave him a dark bit of pleasure that Izzy was so taken aback that he didn’t even try to fend off Stede’s touch. Not wanting to give Izzy time to regain his senses, Stede quickly made the choice to wrap the vibrant fabric around the same bit of black braid that puffed up Izzy’s sleeve, even though this involved lifting up Izzy’s arm, which felt a lot like Stede was recklessly sticking his hand into a wild animal’s open mouth.

He did an elaborate knot such as what he would have done on his own clothing, a display of showiness that Izzy might have trouble with later on when he wanted that shirt off. Oh well! As if Stede was going to be careless with something Ed had made!

“Got you in color at last!” crowed Ed.

“It looks great, boss!” Fang said in delight.

Izzy still looked like he didn't understand what was happening.

Ed grabbed Stede by the hand and they both ran off, somehow feeling like they’d accomplished something impressive. On their way back to the captain’s quarters, Ed made sure to bang on the door to the room that Jim, Oluwande, and now Archie were staying in, despite him and Stede having no idea if all or any of the trio were in there at that moment.