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Stede does not like this particular bar. It's dimly lit, the clientele all look like criminals, and they don't serve his favorite Chablis. But, he'd made certain promises when Izzy had moved in with him, promises to try new things, to be more outgoing and not so...pedantic when it comes to his taste in wine.
And if it makes Izzy happy, he's willing to brave any number of seedy bars in his own city. Even if the wine selection is abysmal.
He sits on a battered barstool, nursing a glass of something red and vaguely palatable. Across from him, Izzy looks completely at ease, like he belongs in the dingy ambiance with its cracked wood paneling and muted hum of chatter. He has one elbow on the bar, his whiskey glass dangling from rough, calloused fingers, and the faintest smirk playing on his lips as he watches Stede squint at the menu.
"Just get the fucking burger." He sounds bored, but Stede can tell that he's fighting a smile.
"I always get the burger." Stede scrunches his nose up. "I want to try something different this time." The bartended looks between them, and Izzy knows he's probably wondering what someone like Stede is doing here. Hell, Izzy wonders the same thing sometimes.
Stede is dressed in a three piece suit, peach because it's Wednesday, and his hair has that freshly styled look that makes him look like an old school movie star. Izzy on the other hand is in a button down white shirt with a ketchup stain on the collar and scuffed shoes from where a client had kicked him after he'd told him there was nothing else to be done.
They're such opposites, Stede is the sun and Izzy is the moon, but somehow, they work. They balance each other out, and the past six months has been the happiest of Izzy's life.
"Get the chicken wrap this time." Izzy finally says, his tone soft. "It's good, and they can make it spicy for you." Stede beams at him, his whole face lighting up, and Izzy can feel the tips of his ears turn pink.
"Oh! That does sound good." Stede nods and motions the bartender over. He orders a chicken wrap and then a glass of water. He's going to be driving tonight. Izzy orders the steak frites. "So, have you thought anymore about my proposal?" Stede asks once the bartender has flitted away to put their order in. "I'm only asking once. You know that."
"I know." Izzy sighs and swirls his whiskey in his glass. He has been thinking about the proposal, hasn't been able to stop thinking about the damn proposal sometimes. Those four words reverberate in his head constantly, a mantra of want and need and fear.
Will you marry me?
"It's a lot to consider." Izzy's throat works.
"You keep saying that, and I'm not sure what it means." Stede takes a sip of his wine. He tries not to grimace. Izzy bites back a smile at the look of abject disgust that flits across his features. "Are you concerned that it's too soon, or..."
"Not exactly." Izzy frowns. "I'm concerned that we might be rushing into this, and that maybe it isn't the best thing for either of us." Stede nods, and Izzy knows he's trying to be understanding, but he can see the flash of hurt in his eyes. "We've only known each other for a year, only stopped hating each other seven months ago."
"We didn't hate each other. We were just...uninformed about each other."
"We were assholes."
"Yes." Stede nods again. "We were." He gives Izzy a fond look. "God, you were insufferable."
"Pot, kettle." Izzy raises an eyebrow and Stede snorts, bringing the glass up to his lips before changing his mind and setting it back down. "You were such a dick."
"I was, but, I was also insecure, and you're quite intimidating." Stede points out, and holds back his own smile at the flush of pride that flashes across Izzy's face.
"I wasn't even trying to be."
"Which is why you're so intimidating." Stede says, his voice a touch more serious. "You didn't try, you just existed, and that was enough."
"You're a fucking sap." Izzy's lips twitch. "But, I understand what you're saying."
"I thought you might."
"You didn't give a fuck what anyone thought. You still don't." Izzy's gaze is warm.
"No." Stede agrees, and his lips curl up into a soft smile. "I don't, not anymore."
"That's what I like most about you." Izzy admits. "You don't care. You're so secure in who you are that nothing anyone could say would ever change your mind."
"It took a long time to get to that point, Izzy." Stede leans forward, his tone turning a bit somber. "I'm not saying I don't still have doubts, or that there aren't moments where I still hate…me." He sighs. "But, I am happier than I've ever been, and one of the many reasons for that is because you're in my life."
"I love you." Izzy's voice is soft, the words barely audible over the noise of the bar, but they ring like church bells in Stede's head.
"I love you, too." Stede reaches out, resting a hand on Izzy's forearm, his thumb brushing along the bone. "I love you more than I ever thought was possible." He squeezes. "I love you so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Izzy."
"I want that, too."
"But?" Stede can hear the unspoken word, hanging in the air like smoke.
"But..." Izzy sighs, but before he can continue, his gaze shifts to the door and his entire demeanor changes in an instant, his posture going rigid. Stede frowns and glances over his shoulder, but Izzy grabs his wrist, yanking. "Quick, hide!" He hisses.
"Hide? From who?" Stede looks confused, but lets Izzy drag him to the far side of the bar, shoving him down in a booth seat. "Izzy!" He protests, but the smaller man ignores him, sliding into the booth and sitting close, his arm sliding around Stede's waist, pressing his body against the wall. "Izzy..."
"Just shut up for a second." Izzy snaps, and Stede is usually the first to argue, to say something back, but the desperation in Izzy’s voice makes him swallow the sharp retort. Instead, he sits quietly and waits for some kind of explanation. Izzy keeps glancing at the door, like he's afraid the person standing there will notice him.
"Who is it?" Stede asks after several long minutes have gone by. Izzy still hasn't relaxed. He's sitting so close, his grip is almost painfully tight. Stede lays a hand on his thigh, rubbing the muscle in a soothing manner. "Darling, are you alright?"
"It's...an old friend." Izzy says through gritted teeth, his gaze shifting to Stede.
"Someone you don't want to see." Izzy shakes his head and Stede purses his lips. "Well you're attracting more attention by hiding like this." He points out, the hand on his thigh squeezing. "Why don't we just try to sneak out? We could slip out the back."
"I'd never make it." Izzy shakes his head again. Stede is frowning deeply now, and he visibly bristles at the words, like he wants to stand up and punch whoever is standing at the door. He'd do it, too, if Izzy asked him. "Listen, it's not..." Izzy pauses and sighs. "It's Ed."
"Ed?" Stede's frown deepens. "As in...?" Izzy nods and Stede tries to catch a glimpse of the elusive Edward Teach who had been Izzy's husband for more than a decade before he'd gotten tired of married life and run off with some blond twink. "Is he...here for you?"
"Probably not."
"Then what..."
"I'd rather not find out." Izzy mutters, and Stede can hear the fear and worry in his voice. He'd heard all about the way Ed had treated him, the way he'd manipulated him, cheated on him. "I just want to wait here until he leaves and go back to dinner." Stede tilts his head, his hand on Izzy’s thigh stilling.
"Izzy..." Stede says softly. “You deserve to enjoy your evening, not cower behind a booth because of some ghost from your past. Why don't you..." A myriad of emotions flicker over Stede's face then, too quick to identify. Concern, worry, and then realization, quiet and soft. "Or...is this why you haven't said yes to me?"
"What?" Izzy blinks. He sounds shocked, and his grip on Stede's waist loosens a fraction.
"Izzy, it's okay." Stede tries to smile, but his lips quiver and his eyes are sad. "Really, I mean...he was your husband, and it would be foolish of me to try to compete with that." Stede continues, his tone taking on a slightly frantic edge, and Izzy can hear the hurt beneath the false bravado. "It makes sense, really. All the bickering and the...hate sex..." He clears his throat. "Really, we should have known it wasn't going to work."
"Stede, shut the fuck up." Izzy grabs his face, his thumbs pressing hard against the curve of his jaw. "Shut up." He kisses him, and Stede freezes, his whole body going rigid, but he melts into it in an instant, his hand fisting in Izzy's shirt, tugging. "I'm sorry." He murmurs against his mouth, his breath hot and damp, and Stede groans, licking into his mouth. "I didn't mean to make you feel like..."
"Like...?" Stede pulls away, panting, his hands framing Izzy's face.
"Edward is in my past. I'm not hesitating because of him. I'm hesitating here because..."
"Because...?" Stede looks at him with such a tender expression that Izzy has to swallow the lump in his throat. They've been through a lot together, and yet, they haven't. Stede doesn't know about the things Ed used to do to him, the way he'd belittle him, make him feel small and worthless, and Izzy doesn't know if he can handle seeing him again.
"People leave, Stede." Izzy admits. "They always leave." He sighs and leans into Stede, his head dropping to his chest. "Ed left me, and it was devastating. He was the first person I ever let in, the only one, and now you’ve cracked me open in a fraction of the time it took him and..." Izzy falters as Stede's arms come around him, one hand stroking the nape of his neck. "People leave. It's what they do."
"Do you know why I asked you to marry me?" Stede's voice is a quiet rumble in his chest, and Izzy shudders. "And don't say it’s 'because I'm an idiot'". Izzy snaps his mouth shut because that particular line of reasoning was on the tip of his tongue.
"Why?"
"Because, we fight." Stede presses his lips to the top of his head, the hair there tickling his nose. "We fight, and we argue, and you drive me anbsolutely insane, but, I've never had someone in my life who challenges me, who pushes me, who makes me better." He feels Izzy tense, but he keeps stroking his neck. "You make me laugh, and you make me cry, and you make me so angry that sometimes all I want to do is punch something."
"You're supposed to say I make you happy." Izzy snorts. Stede laughs and the vibration echoes through him, and Izzy closes his eyes, relaxing. "You're not supposed to talk about punching me."
"I think you'd quite like it if I slapped you a round a little bit." Stede muses, his voice teasing. Izzy's stomach twists, his cock stirring, and he buries his face against Stede’s chest, mildly embarrassed.
"You're an idiot." He mumbles.
"Yes." Stede agrees. "But you love me, so I'm afraid that says more about you than it does me." Izzy doesn't argue with him, doesn't have it in him, and when Stede kisses his head again, he turns, craning his neck, his fingers threading through Stede's golden hair, pulling him down to meet him.
This kiss is different than the one from before, and it makes Izzy's heart hammer against his ribs. There's a softness to it, a tenderness that isn't usually there, and it takes his breath away. His hand curls in the material of his shirt, fisting, and he can feel his cock stiffening in his jeans.
"You make me happy, Israel Hands." Stede murmurs against his lips. "There is no one I'd rather fight with, no one I'd rather argue with, no one I'd rather spend the rest of my life with than you. That's why I want to marry you." He finishes neatly. "We can find new things to fight about every day and I can promise you that no matter what happens, no matter how hard or ugly or painful, I will never leave you."
"Don't say shit like that if you don't mean it." Izzy warns. He sounds a bit choked.
"I'm afraid it's the one thing I'm absolutely sure of." Stede kisses his nose and Izzy feels something shift inside him, click into place. It's like the last piece of a puzzle, and his shoulders slump as all the tension drains out of him.
"You make me happy, too." Izzy pulls away, his lips tingling. "That's why..." He hesitates. "I'm worried about him ruining it, that you meeting him’ll make you…want to leave me somehow. Because he did."
"Let him try." Stede's expression turns determined. “He was an idiot for leaving you like that, Izzy. I might be dumb, but I’m not that dumb.” Izzy somehow loves him even more than he did five minutes ago, and he didn't think that was possible.
Slowly, he pulls away and slides out of the booth, offering a hand to Stede. The blond haired man takes it without hesitation, and when Izzy leads him back to the bar, he's standing tall and proud, his shoulders thrown back.
They'll be okay, no matter what, and the certainty of that settles in Izzy's gut, warming him.