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If Ed didn’t want Izzy doing any chores, he should have done his own fucking laundry before going away for a week.
“Just leave that shit in the hamper!” Ed protests over the phone while Izzy folds a load of clean clothes. “You’re meant to be reducing stress. Dr. Zheng wasn’t fucking around when she said that.”
“Don’t care,” Izzy grunts, even though he likes Dr. Zheng. “You left a mountain of sweaty gym clothes festering in the utility room, and you won’t get to them until days after you come back. I’m doing us both a fucking favor.”
“You staying hydrated, at least?”
Izzy rolls his eyes.
“Yes, Mum, I’m drinking enough water to drown a fish.”
“And the baby’s active?”
“Little fucking footie player,” Izzy sighs, rubbing the side of his belly. It’s hot today, and he’s got one of his favorite shirts on–or at least, halfway on. He’s tied it under his tits, which are doing a spectacular job filling it out. Not what he had in mind, but needs fucking must. “If they kick me in the ribs one more time, I’m leaving them in the fucking maternity ward.”
“Izzy!” Ed laughs. “They’re telling you they love you. Must be getting crowded, anyway.”
“One more growth spurt and I might explode,” Izzy deadpans as he puts some sheets away. “Fuck natural childbirth, this kid’ll just burst right out of me.”
There’s a queasy silence on Ed’s end.
“That’s a bit gruesome, mate.”
“Shouldn’t have gotten me up the duff, then.”
“Iz, seriously, remember to rest. If there’s anything to do around the house, call Stede or Lucius. They’re happy to help.”
Izzy makes a noncommittal noise, but glancing in the mirror, he’s reminded of why he hasn’t wanted anyone to see him lately.
It’s not just the belly, which seems to get heavier by the day. He’s wearing some acne plasters because his face has broken out like a teenager’s. His hair is getting long, so he’s keeping it out of his eyes with little clips because he has to get it cut. The tits don’t help, either–they’re swollen and sore as fuck.
He doesn’t want to be seen like this–old, fat, pimply, generally just disgusting. Chores make a nice distraction from doing anything outside the house and someone has to do them. He’s not bedridden, not yet.
“Iz? You still there?”
“Yeah,” Izzy responds dully. “I’m tired, going to have a lie down.”
“Good idea. I love–”
Izzy rings off.
***
He wakes up to hear Stede Fucking Bonnet singing to himself as he does fuck-knows-what downstairs. Of course. Ed must have called him to come round and do some tidying up. He never grasped the concept of not asking your ex for favors once you broke up with them. But neither had Bonnet.
Izzy groans and tries to fall back to sleep, but his bladder isn't cooperating. He rolls out of bed, uses the loo, and finishes tossing Ed’s socks and underwear into the dresser before opening the bedroom door.
“Izzy? Are you up?” Stede’s cheerful tone grates. “I’ve made tea if you want some, and I was waiting to Hoover until you were awake.”
Izzy, who’s still out of sight, flips him off before answering.
“I’m up. Hoover all you like, I don’t care.”
He trudges downstairs after taking the clips out and plasters off–he’s not keen on looking his absolute worst in front of Bonnet.
***
For all the things he can find fault with, Bonnet’s ability to put together a good spread is not one of them. He’s actually in a better mood after three small sandwiches.
“Help yourself,” Bonnet insists. “I ate before I got here.”
“S’not manners,” Izzy sighs, wiping crumbs off his shirt. “I’ve got a fetus pressing on every organ from my esophagus down. Can’t manage much these days.”
Bonnet nods sympathetically. “Mary had that problem.”
Izzy gives him a sour look. “I’ll thank you not to draw comparisons between me and your ex-wife, Bonnet.”
“I wasn’t!” Bonnet protests. “Just…noticing a few similarities, that’s all.”
Izzy folds his arms and leans back against the sofa.
“Well, now I’m curious. What fucking similarities?”
Bonnet’s turning red. “Izzy, please don’t be offended.”
“Not offended,” Izzy says calmly. “I’d like to know what specifically made you think of your ex-wife when you saw me. Could it be the tits? I wouldn’t blame you, they’re really pulling focus these days.”
“No, I–”
“Or…the stretch marks?” Izzy glances down at his torso. “She must have some of those after popping out two of your kids. They never go away, you know.”
“Well–”
“Ohhh, I know,” Izzy says with mock understanding. “It’s the belly, isn’t it? You see one of these and you can’t help but associate it with ‘female.’ Is that why you decided to bring up the only other person you know who’s been pregnant, even though you cared fuck-all about her then?”
Bonnet’s jaw is set. Izzy forgot how entertaining it is getting a rise out of him.
“I cared very much for Mary when she was pregnant,” Bonnet huffs. “We were actually closer during those times. The only similarity that you and Mary will ever have is this.” He gestures at Izzy's belly and Izzy notices a look in his eye that puts this whole conversation in a new light.
“You like it,” he drawls. “Got a kink for the enceinte, eh?”
Bonnet’s face is now a lovely salmon color.
“It’s not a kink,” he says, mouth twisting at the word. “It’s just…well, sort of…primal. With Mary, it was like some animal instinct to keep her safe and protected. And yes, all right, it improved our sex life for a time. I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“Do you feel all primal around me?”
“Good God, no,” Bonnet says immediately. “I mean, after all, that’s not my baby. You’re just…carrying it very well.”
Izzy has no idea how he can switch from honesty to bullshit so quickly.
“Fuck off, I’m disgusting–”
Bonnet holds up a finger. “If you start insulting yourself, I have orders from Ed to shut you up by any means necessary.”
Izzy rubs his hands over his face.
“Trust you two to gang up on me in my compromised state,” he groans. “How would you shut me up, exactly?”
Bonnet looks him over.
“For one thing, your shoulders are up around your ears. Would you like a massage?”
“Ed did not tell you to give me a fucking massage.”
“No, he didn’t,” Bonnet smirks. “But he always said I missed my calling as a masseur.”
“Fine, I’ll take a shoulder rub,” Izzy grunts, tugging off his shirt. “There’s a tin of lavender salve in the upstairs bathroom.”
“Excellent!” Bonnet cheers. “I’ll be right back, make yourself comfortable.”
“If I could, I wouldn’t need a massage,” Izzy mutters.
***
Fuck Ed. Fuck him for never mentioning what fucking amazing hands Bonnet has, and how they seem to find every single knot and stiff muscle. Izzy’s never moaned this much outside of sex, and he’s not even embarrassed by it.
“Oh, my, you really needed this,” Bonnet tuts as he works on Izzy’s shoulders and neck. “It’s like the Gordian knot back here.”
“Fuck the literary references,” Izzy growls as he leans over the arm of the sofa. He’s kneeling on the cushions because he can’t exactly lie flat these days. “Just press harder.”
“Of course.”
Bonnet continues his ministrations, and Izzy eventually murmurs his consent when asked if he can move down to his back.
“Be careful,” he mumbles. “Pressure points.”
“I’ll be very careful.”
By the time he’s done, Izzy’s had the best massage of his life. He’s half-asleep and more relaxed than he’s been in weeks.
“You’re fucking good,” he sighs. “Ed’s an idiot for letting you go.”
Bonnet chuckles. “It was entirely mutual. I only wish a good massage could have salvaged things.”
Izzy starts to shift onto his side, but hisses when his bare chest brushes the rough part of a cushion.
“Bloody hell, these things are too sensitive,” he grumbles. Bonnet hesitates.
“There’s some salve left, if you want me to use it on your front.”
Izzy squints suspiciously at him, but if Bonnet had any illicit intentions, he’s had ample opportunity to try something before now.
“Fine,” he utters. “Just go easy on the tits.”
“I will,” Bonnet says without a hint of a blush. Izzy settles into the sofa, eyes drifting closed, feeling the baby shift around as Bonnet rubs salve into the sore spots on his hip joints.
“How’d you know?” Izzy murmurs. “That it’s sore there?”
“Had a hunch,” Bonnet replies. “From the way you move.”
Izzy’s too relaxed to even utter a reply. That, however, changes when Bonnet moves up to his chest and starts massaging his tits.
“Stop!” Izzy gasps, batting his hand away when it brushes a nipple. “Nipple stimulation can bring on contractions.”
“Oh,” Bonnet sounds contrite. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“Wish to God I didn’t have to remind you,” Izzy says wryly. “It feels good.”
“They look…heavy,” Bonnet says, using the last of the salve on Izzy’s sides. “Very uncomfortable, I’d imagine.”
“Imagine away,” Izzy grins sleepily. “Just be glad you don’t have them. More trouble than they’re fucking worth.”
“So you’re not going to–” Bonnet breaks off. “Sorry, that’s absolutely none of my business.”
“Tit-feed?” Izzy cracks an eye open. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see what the kid likes best and go from there.”
To be honest, he's hoping the baby learns to chest-feed quickly. He'd rather put these things to use than have to rely on that horrible pump in the nursery.
His phone buzzes, and he sighs.
“It’s a text from Ed,” Bonnet reports, having grabbed the phone off the side table. “Want me to read it?”
“He’s probably saying he’ll be late,” Izzy grumbles. “Leave it on read. Serve the fucker right.”
Bonnet pats him on the shoulder, and Izzy closes his eyes. He feels a soft, warm weight on his back and smiles, tugging the blanket over his shoulders.
***
He doesn’t nap for long, having had a longer sleep earlier, but he wakes up about twenty minutes later a Bonnet puttering around the kitchen.
Reaching for his phone, he opens it to check his texts. Two from Ed.
Might be home late tonight. Supplier delayed and Fang went home sick, only me left to do inventory.
Supplier finally here but slow going. Home by 3 I promise. XX
Three in the morning? Oh, fuck no, this won’t do at all. Izzy’s not sleeping alone tonight.
Which gives him a wicked idea.
“Bonnet, Ed’s not going to be back till late. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
***
The secret to a tolerable meal with Bonnet is simply letting him talk. About anything, really. Izzy gives enough generic responses to keep things from lapsing into awkward silence, and they have a decent dinner together. It’s just roast chicken and potatoes, but Bonnet’s done something with herbs and whipped butter that makes Izzy want to offer him a job as their personal chef.
Izzy takes him up on his offer to stay until Ed gets home. He changes into his nightwear–an oversized graphic tee of Ed’s and the only shorts that still fit–and cleans his teeth while Bonnet does the dishes. Izzy turns on an episode of Bridgerton (“Ed’s obsessed, if you must know.”) Bonnet nods off about fifteen minutes in.
Izzy smirks. Perfect.
He leans his head close to Bonnet’s and takes a close-up picture of the two of them with his phone. It looks very cozy, and Ed will know exactly where they are. Izzy sends the picture to him and adds a cheeky text.
Having a lovely time with your ex.
He chuckles to himself. He doubts Ed will believe there’s anything going on between Izzy and Bonnet, but it bloody well better get him home soon.
***
An hour or so after Izzy falls asleep, he wakes up to hear Bonnet and Ed talking quietly next to him.
“--perfectly fine. We had a lovely evening, and I’m glad you got someone to finish inventory for you.”
“Roach was happy to do it,” Ed replies. “He says one upside to insomnia is the amount of night shifts he can cover.”
“Well, I’d better go,” Bonnet says. “Izzy’s fine, really. I know you worry, but he’s doing well. It’s not many people his age who could tolerate pregnancy like this.”
Tolerate. Izzy disguises a snort as a snore, and Ed and Bonnet laugh.
“Right, that’s my cue to take over,” Ed remarks, and after a few seconds, Izzy hears their bedroom door shut. With a smile, he waits for Ed to climb in next to him.
“I know you’re awake, you manipulative little fucker.”
Izzy looks up to Ed standing over him, distinctly peeved.
“What? I had to get you home somehow.”
“I was coming home when I got that fucking picture,” Ed huffs. “Did you really think I would believe you and Stede were…whatever you wanted me to think? I know you better than that.”
Izzy opens his arms invitingly.
“C’mere and scold me some more if you want.”
Ed hides a smile and shucks off his clothes, leaving them on the floor as he climbs in and wraps his arms around Izzy.
“Mm, you smell yummy,” he murmurs, sniffing his neck. “Lavender?”
“Bonnet gave me a massage,” Izzy sighs. “It was brilliant.”
Ed moves a hand down to Izzy’s belly, stroking the skin until the baby kicks in response.
“Don’t wake them up now,” Izzy protests.
“I missed you two. Brighton’s a nice town, but it’s fucking boring when I’m shut up in the office with paperwork.”
“I’d trade places any day,” Izzy sighs, pressing back into him. “I’d rather do a pile of paperwork than lug this gut around for six more weeks.”
“Bloody hell, only six?” Ed gently lifts Izzy’s belly, taking some of the strain off his back and making Izzy groan in appreciation. “Fuck. Six weeks and we’ll have a real baby.”
“S’already pretty fucking real.”
“You know what I mean. Little baby with baby toes and fingers and a face. I can’t wait to meet them.”
“Ed?”
“Yeah, Iz?”
“If you don’t let me go back to sleep, I’ll run off with Bonnet and raise the baby with him.”
Ed kisses his cheek. “Night, Izzy. Night, little Evie.”
Izzy wants to remind him that they haven’t agreed on that name yet…but it’s growing on him.
End