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“You sure you’re alright, Izzy?” Frenchie’s voice drifted through the cracked door, his scent one of concern.
“‘M fine,” Izzy replied, curling tighter around himself. It was bad enough that everyone on the fucking ship could smell his affliction, but now they’d sent his… Frenchie to check up on him.
“I brought some chamomile tea. Can I come in?”
Loath as he was to admit it, tea did sound like it would help.
The smell of Frenchie might help too, if he could stop smelling like worry.
“Fine,” Izzy called. He tried to uncurl, but the pain was such that he only managed to move higher onto the bed before Frenchie opened the door. Waves of sympathy overwhelmed his senses, and Izzy grumbled curses as he buried his nose into his pillow, hiding from Frenchie as much as he was able.
“Hey.” Frenchie’s voice was low, probably pitched to be soothing. Izzy heard the door creak closed, and he relaxed fractionally. It was irritating to admit, but Frenchie’s presence was actually quite soothing just by itself.
It shouldn’t be surprising; they’d been… seeing each other for weeks now—even Lucius had gotten wind of it, the twat—but it had been a long time since Izzy had really opened up to anyone. Even so, when Frenchie laid a hand on his arm, Izzy sighed; the contact was soothing some inexplicable need for skin-on-skin contact within him.
“There we go,” Frenchie said. The hand disappeared for a moment, and an embarrassing whine worked its way up Izzy’s throat. “Just setting down the tea, don’t worry.”
After a beat, the mattress dipped, and Izzy cracked open an eye to watch Frenchie sit. Frenchie smelled better now—less of worry and more of comfort, exuding a fresh scent like that of the sun on cotton on a warm day. Izzy took a deep breath as he watched Frenchie watching him.
“Cuddling help?”
Izzy blinked at him. Anyone else, Izzy would’ve growled and told them to fuck off, but he found something soft emerging in his chest. Maybe… maybe Frenchie would be safe for this.
At this point, Izzy didn’t have much to lose.
“Latch the door,” Izzy instructed, voice rough where his heat had worn him thin. “Then… yeah.”
The smile Frenchie gave him at that was glimmering, the golden hour trapped in human form. Frenchie didn’t say anything about it though, for which Izzy was grateful; he might be teased about it later, but at least for now, he could have some comfort.
Getting Frenchie into a comfortable position with Izzy proved to be a comical affair that actually had Izzy suppressing a grin. First, Frenchie tried to clamber over Izzy, but he only got part way before accidentally kneeing Izzy in the stomach then freezing, watching Izzy with a concerned gaze.
“‘M not made of glass,” Izzy huffed, but he was cracking a smile all the same. “Let me roll over so you don’t knock something important while you’re climbing all over me.”
Before Izzy could move, Frenchie leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You’re important, babe,” Frenchie murmured, but he drew away and let Izzy hide his face in the pillow as he turned the other way. It didn’t take long after that for Frenchie to get situated, snuggling up close to Izzy’s back and leaving an arm hovering above Izzy.
“Can I…? I mean, should I…?”
“Just—” Izzy started, then grabbed Frenchie’s arm to drape over his waist. “You can touch me. Touch is good.”
“Okay.”
They lay there in silence for a while, Izzy slowly curling in on himself again while Frenchie stayed where he’d been put. It was… awkward. Izzy shifted, and Frenchie made a noise, almost as though he’d been startled out of a dozing sleep.
“I need…” Izzy started, then cut himself off. Wasn’t this enough for him already? He didn’t need to be greedy; he’d already gotten Frenchie in his bed after all.
“What?” Frenchie asked, hand flexing over Izzy’s stomach. “What can I do?”
He was just so sweet. He didn’t pry into shit Izzy didn’t want to talk about. He was funny and gentle and exactly what Izzy needed.
“Let me lay on top of you,” Izzy said, more of an order in his voice than he meant, but he needed something more, and scenting Frenchie would help.
“You sure you don’t need anything else?” Frenchie asked as Izzy shifted, rolling over and onto Frenchie. They scootched together further onto the mattress before Izzy flopped with his head tucked into the join of Frenchie’s shoulder and neck. “I mean, I know heats are supposed to be… well, more sexual—”
“Not mine,” Izzy interrupted. “Just hurts—and sometimes I’ll get hot flashes, but that’s normal for omegas my age.”
“Okay,” Frenchie said again, hugging Izzy close. “Okay. Then we’ll just lie here until you’re feeling better.”
Izzy inhaled that fresh cotton scent mixed with the oils Frenchie used. It was comforting, something that was starting to smell like home in spite of it all. Fraction by fraction, Izzy began to relax as Frenchie rubbed his back. By the time Frenchie spoke again, Izzy had practically melted onto him, lax save for the cramping that ebbed and flowed.
“This is nice,” Frenchie whispered into the quiet cabin. Izzy grunted. “You know, I bet I could talk the first mate into letting us hole up like this anytime you have a heat.”
Chuckling, Izzy replied, “Unlikely.” Still, this was comforting.
“Might not be so bad,” Frenchie offered, tipping his chin up to give Izzy better access. “You know I’ve had fun with what else we get up to, but just this is good too.”
“Mmm.” Something unhooked in Izzy’s chest. The crew was the least helpless they’d ever been. “If we’re both down here, who’ll run the ship?” he tried, the last stretch of wall on a levee that was slowly breaking.
“I’d say the captains, but we both know that’s not true. Olu, though. We nearly made him captain the first time we almost mutinied on Stede. Don’t worry, he already sat through the ritual to purge the bad luck since we didn’t actually throw Stede overboard.” Frenchie paused stroking Izzy’s back. “Does that mean you’ll consider it?”
“Maybe,” Izzy said, but he could feel himself crumbling already. “This is… nice.”
He could practically hear the smile in Frenchie’s voice. “Yeah, it really is.”
They lapsed into silence again, and before Izzy knew it, he was drifting to sleep, surrounded by Frenchie’s smell and a feeling of safety he had thought lost decades before.