Work Text:
“Why does it have to be a bright colour?” Izzy muttered, fingers running down the sleeve of the ski suit, a grimace on his face.
“So we don’t lose you in the snow, mate,” Ed replied with a grin, nudging his arm, making Izzy glare up at him.
“Snow is white. What’s wrong with having a black one?” he shot back, knowing his logic couldn’t be argued with. He smirked slowly as Ed opened his mouth to respond, and then quickly closed it again when he couldn’t think of something to quip back with. “Exactly,” Izzy muttered and turned to walk away again, eyes scanning the shop, trying to find anything that wasn’t bright orange or fluorescent green. “Ah… there.” He pointed to the far corner and headed off in that direction, Ed slinking after him. He and Stede had already got their clothing sorted for the trip, had done a few days ago on the first attempt, first shopping trip. This was the third attempt, the fifth shop. Finally Izzy had found a suit that was acceptable to him.
All black, of course, perfectly insulated for what they needed, with a few patches of reflective silver for exactly the reason Ed had stated. “Like that one then?” Ed asked as he picked it off the rail.
“Yep. Don’t need anything else fancy,” Izzy replied. “It’s only for walking, no skiing.” Nodding and taking it off him, Ed turned to head towards the tills. “Ed, I’m buying it.”
“No you’re not, Iz. This trip is your present. That includes everything,” he called back without turning around.
“Edward Teach…”
“Don’t you full name me,” he muttered. “I’m not having an argument with you about this in the middle of the shop.”
Izzy stopped in the middle of the fleece section, crossing his arms over his chest, surrounded by the fluffy jumpers and jackets, trying to fix his boyfriend with a stoic glare and finding he was probably failing miserably. Especially when Stede then stepped into the shop, just as Ed was paying, a few more bags hanging over his arm, sweeping up to him with a soft smile, hand trailing down Ed’s back and saying a few words to him as Ed took the bag from the cashier.
And there it was again, the reason Izzy was so lucky.
They finished up with a few more bits and pieces of shopping. It was only a few more days until their flight, so of course Stede was insistent that they had to finish getting organised so they could leave the presents behind for the crew. They had organised an early Christmas meal with everyone too, that Izzy and Roach were cooking that following evening. Their found family were too important to not have something Christmassy with them before they left, even if everyone had been apart of planning this surprise for Izzy for near enough eighteen months now. Apparently making sure they had a family Christmas was always part of the plan.
Of course it was done properly as well, and only five days early. Everyone piled in to their dining room, turkey and all the trimmings, crackers and hats, Stede’s Christmas playlist that Izzy only just found acceptable (slightly more so this year because at Ed’s request Stede had added Fall Out Boy’s cover of ‘ It Feels Like Christmas’), and they exchanged presents so Stede, Ed and Izzy could open theirs’ then and not add them to the luggage. It was the perfect afternoon, as their Christmases had always been for the last few years. Even better when they collapsed on the sofa with a glass of wine, the room lit by only candles, and tucked under covers to talk absolute shit until everyone decided to head home.
As expected, the packing had been a challenge. The right weight and size to fly, but with all the needed cold weather clothing. And the classic way Stede tended to try and pack most of his wardrobe, even for when they only went away for the weekend. The back and forth, the way Ed and Stede were trailing from one wardrobe to another, whilst Izzy sat folding clothes, left time for Izzy’s mind to wander.
“Iz, babe…” Ed gently broke him from whatever spell he had fallen under with a hand on his back, dumping another load of clothes next to him on the bed. “You okay?”
“Mm,” Izzy replied, putting down the hanger he was holding. “Just… snow,” he said quietly, fingers wandering over the soft fabric of one of Ed’s jumpers sat on the top of the pile in front of him.
Frowning, Ed wound an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in gently. “Gonna need more than that,” he prompted gently. “We’re going to Iceland. Are you only just realising they have snow there?”
“No, I…” Izzy laughed weakly, and elbowed him in the side. “I know that, you twat. I just didn’t think… I hadn’t thought… my leg. And snow?” he ventured slowly. “I don’t know why I hadn’t fucking thought about it before but… how is that…?” He wasn’t even too sure what he was asking. His worries were simple. Walking in deep snow was, of course, something he hadn’t experienced since he’d lost his leg. Hadn’t ever experienced, really. But certainly not since his prosthetic.
“Ah,” Ed murmured softly, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I see.” He was gently pulling Izzy’s hand from the jumper, leading him round to the side of the bed and sitting him down, sitting next to him, still holding his hand. “You won’t be surprised to hear, mate, but Stede had this covered. I told him he should tell you, but he said…” Ed hesitated and then smiled softly. “He said he didn’t want to cause you worry if you weren’t already worried about it. Or some shit like that.”
For a moment, Izzy blinked up at him, hearing Stede come back into the room too, hearing him dump the next lot of clothes on the bed. But it was the way Stede came round the bed, crouched slowly in front of him, hand on his knee, like he knew what conversation they were having, cracked a smile across Izzy’s face. He reached out and caressed his thumb over Stede’s cheek, then over his jaw, over his bottom lip, then sliding his hand up into his hair, fingers tangling slowly. He leant into Ed’s side a little more, snuggling the warmth. “Have you both been sweet again for no reason?” he sighed softly.
“No reason?” Ed breathed in disbelief, shaking his head. “No reason?” He looked down to Stede crouched in front of him. “Izzy was asking about his leg, and snow,” Ed said to him quietly, to catch him up.
With a silent ‘oh’ on his lips, Stede was nodding slowly, settling himself onto his knees and getting comfier for a longer conversation. “Never for no reason, my darling. Always simply because we love you. And we don’t need any more reason than that.” Izzy smiled weakly, hand caressing back through Stede’s hair, the other still tangled with Ed’s fingers.
“So, snow. And leg,” Ed prompted Stede gently.
“Oh yes.” Stede settled back a little more, plucking Izzy’s hand from his hair, entwining their fingers gently. “I have spoken to the company that take us on the walks to see the lights, and it wasn’t a problem. There are different lengths of walks, you can choose what you feel able to do at the time. The dog sledding… well, you sit back and let them do the work. The hotel is all fully accessible. And we can choose how many nights we spend in the igloos.” He smiled up at him, drawing Izzy’s hand to his lips and pressing a few kisses to the back of his hand. “You don’t need to worry about any of it.”
“You both need to fuck off,” Izzy mumbled, the tears misting in his eyes, turning his head to Ed’s neck and hiding the fact he was staving off the tears. What had he done to deserve something like this? Them. This life. Safe and considerate and knowing.
The years he’d had with Ed before, before Stede, had been tumultuous to say the least. Always on again, off again, but never off long enough for Izzy to ever find anyone else. Not that he ever wanted to, or ever would’ve been able to, not compared to Ed. No one would ever compare to Ed. And he’d tried, he really had. He tried to date, and tried to find someone that wouldn’t send him absolutely crazy with attraction and dedication and a desperate need to just allow everything about them to envelop him in an unfathomable cage of devotion.
But no one was ever like Ed. Because no one was Ed. And Ed was who he needed.
When Stede had appeared into Ed’s life, on one of their off again periods, at first Izzy just saw him as another whim of Ed’s. Yet another man in Ed’s life that after a few months he would be bored of. He hadn’t meant to kiss him, out of some weird anger-driven lust one Christmas Eve. And when Stede hadn’t pulled away, or immediately punched him, he thought, by some smug, twisted logic, that he had proven something right. That Stede was the wrong person for Ed, that he wasn’t supposed to be there, in their lives by accident, that he was entirely wrong. Then Stede kissed him more, and Ed saw, and Ed was kissing him too and…
Christmas Day that year had been interesting.
The accident had pulled a lot more into focus for Izzy, just short of a year later. A fight with Ed, stupid and meaningless, unnecessary, resulting in Ed shouting through the door ‘don’t get on the bike Iz, it’s too icy!’ That was the last thing Izzy could remember, Ed’s words. Well, that, and the speedo registering 76 as he took a corner a little too deep.
Suddenly he needed two people. Suddenly, two people taking care of him was something he just had to accept. Suddenly, he could no longer question if, and how, they both loved him. Because neither of them left. Every single wound check, physiotherapy session, prosthetic fitting. Every episode of phantom pain. The first time he climbed the stairs alone. The first time he got back on his bike. They had been by his side, unwavering, the definition of dedicated. They had always been. He was just too stupid to see it.
So this, now, it was hardly surprising. Shouldn’t have been surprising. After seven years, they both knew exactly what to ask for, what Izzy needed, even in new situations like this. He still only knew how to handle it by insulting them, to disguise every single drop of grateful love he felt for them with calling them twats and telling them to fuck off. Izzy’s love language.
Luckily, they heard him, loud and clear.
“Yeah, we love you too Iz,” Ed chuckled against his hair, pressing a few more kisses there.
It took them hours to finish the packing, once Izzy had stopped wanting to punch them both for making him cry.
Early hours of the morning was something Izzy had never had a problem with. The various jobs he had worked in his time had led to shifts, to regular early mornings, to the occasional 1am call out. So when the alarm for the airport when off at 2:30am, it was Izzy that made it out of bed first, stretching slowly, taking the time to get his leg comfy. Another alarm followed fifteen minutes later, once Izzy had turned on the light in the ensuite to gently bring some awake into the room, and had finished adding the last few things into the cases.
Ed was like a small child being woken up for the airport – sleepy, inordinately annoyed he’d been woken up at that time, but with a low bubble of excitement and anticipation underneath the complaining. Stede had taken on the mantle of organising them, moving them around, getting them to the right places at the right time. Whilst Izzy wasn’t as half asleep as Ed, he allowed it, trailing after Stede with their hands clutched together, fingers entwined, glancing back every thirty seconds to make sure Ed was still behind them with that adorable grumpy expression and sleepy eyes. He may as well have been clutching his teddy, for how much he looked like a kid following his parents through the airport.
There was some napping during the flight, mostly from Ed and Izzy, and mostly on each other. And then Izzy stood with wonder in his eyes as he looked through the glass frontage of the airport out onto the white landscape in front of him, zipping up his various layers, making sure his boots were properly tied (especially on his prosthetic), and gathering his rucksack after the rest of their luggage had been placed in their transfer car. An arm wrapped around him, careful, protective, a kiss pressed to his temple. “Ready?” Ed murmured softly, with a smile against his skin.
“Yeah…” Izzy replied quiet but not hesitant, meeting Stede’s eyes where he stood at the door. Because with them close to him, he knew now he was ready for anything.
The hotel was the epitome of Christmas that clearly made Stede’s heart sing, and Izzy’s heart sing at the joy it was bringing Stede. He had to admit, it was stunning. A tree in the centre of the foyer that must’ve been over fifteen foot, stretching up to the glass domed ceiling. Lights glistened all around them, the gentle twinkle of their warmth stretching up the banisters of staircases and along high beams across the ceiling. Soft piano was tumbling from the bar, the classic Christmas songs made placid and gentle by the perfectly played notes. A concierge led them to their room, their luggage already inside (they really had booked the full package). The room was just as stunning, and equally the most Chirstmassy thing Izzy had ever seen. The fireplace roared, three stockings hung above it. A beautifully decorated tree stood proud by the window, and yet more fairy lights cascaded through the room, tasteful paperchains hanging from doorframes and across the headboard of the bed. Izzy had to just take a moment to look around him, to appreciate the effort that had been made, and the thought that had gone into choosing this for him.
They took the rest of the day to settle in, relax, enjoy a few drinks in the bar and delicious food in the restaurant. And tucking up in bed that night, with all the lights off, and hardly any light disruption from the hotel, Izzy could lay with his head on Ed’s chest and see the stairs through the glass of the French doors (which opened out onto their hot tub, something Ed was more than keen to try as soon as possible). He couldn’t be sure, but as the exhaustion of the time difference, early morning and travel made his eyes heavy, he wondered if he saw a smudge of green dance across the sky.
The following day was the dog sledging expedition. Izzy spent more of his time crouched in the snow giving fuss to the dogs than anything else. He hadn’t found walking through the deep snow as tricky as he thought he might, though there were a few times when he had to reach for Ed or Stede to steady himself, to take a wider step, or to shift himself out of a particularly deep patch. But they were at his side whenever he needed them, like they always were, subconsciously and instinctively knowing the moment he needed a gloved hand held out to him. The team leading the experience were also more than accommodating, and it took any stress that Izzy may have been feeling completely away. Especially when they were speeding through the forest, the dogs barking and howling, the landscape of pure beauty surrounding them, and nothing for miles but crisp, white blankets of snow.
Izzy wondered if he’d missed some kind of calling.
“So when we say igloo… it’s not really, is it?” Ed was murmuring, flicking through the pages of the brochure that showed them in more depth what they were going to be spending that night in. They had all agreed after two nights in the hotel, there was something enticingly magical about spending Christmas Eve inside an igloo, and waking up Christmas morning having spent a night under the stars.
“Well, it isn’t made of snow and ice if that’s what you mean,” Izzy replied, adding the last of the things he was packing in the overnight bag. “But it’s igloo shaped. And if it were a real igloo, you couldn’t see the sky, could you?”
“I’m not complaining, mate. I hate being cold. I don’t want to spend the night in an ice box.” He snapped closed the brochure, a grin on his face as Stede walked back into the room. “Here he comes. Success?”
With a grin, Stede held up the keys he had to just been to collect from the reception desk. “We can go over whenever we want, but I assumed we’d want dinner first.” There was a collective noise of agreement, and Izzy turned to look out of the window again.
“Do you think it’ll happen?” he said softly, to no one in particular. In the two nights they’d been there, there had been hints of the auroras, but not a full display. The staff at the hotel had been saying at breakfast that tonight was going to be perfect conditions, that they’d just been warming up before. Izzy only dared to hope.
Arms were wrapping slowly around him from behind, a soft kiss placed on the back of his head, then his ear, then his neck. “I think they’ll dance for us, Izzy,” Stede whispered in his ear.
After another excellent dinner, they got kitted up, backpacks on, and headed back out into the snow to find their igloo. Izzy had been insistent that the second they saw a hint of the lights, he was out of bed and back in the snow to watch them uninhibited, even if their only barrier for most of the night was going to be one layer of glass. So they wore everything they needed for spending time outside, trundling through the dark with head torches.
Because he was casting his eyes up to the sky hopefully every thirty seconds, upon the third time of tripping, Ed was at his side, arm around his middle, stopping them. “Babe, just focus on where you’re going, okay? You’re going to hurt yourself otherwise.” Izzy huffed, and glared at him, but was gripping back hard. He had made his residual limb ache with the unnatural strain he was placing on it. He hated that. He hated even more when Ed had a point, and was right.
Still, they got to the igloo unscathed, just before 11:30. Despite knowing it was a fully heated pod, the warmth hitting them as they opened the door felt odd. They peeled off layer after layer, setting it all out for easy grabbing if they needed it.
Izzy couldn’t remember the last time he felt this kind of anticipation at Christmas. Not even as a kid did he really lay awake thinking of what the morning would bring. Because it never bought happiness, not really. The magic of Christmas had never reached him as chid. Ed was the first person to try and inject it into his life, but with Izzy so hardened to it, he’d given up after a few years. When the first time they were together as a three happened on Christmas Eve, Izzy had dared to hope that there was actually some magic in Christmas, and that it wasn’t too late for him to find it.
He spent the following Christmas in a hospital bed, trying to learn how to walk again. Served him right for thinking this time of year could mean anything else, other than disappointment at best and severe pain and suffering at worst.
But they were determined, Ed and Stede. Determined that this wasn’t going to be it for Izzy, this wasn’t going to be how it felt for him. The magic consumed him slowly, gently enveloped him, like stardust falling centimetre by centimetre onto his skin. The gifts were always lovely to receive, and there was a newfound joy in giving that was rekindled whenever Ed and Stede were genuinely not only pleased, but emotional, with the time and thought he had taken to select what he was bought for them. Of course, though, it was the people. It was the time spent with family and friends. It was the glasses of wine by the fire and the meals cooked together in kitchens far too small to cater for the number of people. It was spare chairs bought from five different houses to try and fit everyone around a table that should only seat six. It was the laughter, the stupid hats that caused hysterics, the bad cracker jokes that were told with a groan and followed up with euphemistic quips that had everyone crying with laughter all over again. It was the sleepy cuddles, waking up in the arms of those that unconditionally loved, with soft kisses and hands on bed-warmed skin, no where to be, no schedule to follow, and not a care in the world.
It was togetherness.
As they settled back onto the mattress together and flicked off the light, Izzy felt the deep bubble of anticipation he hadn’t felt in so long. Not the dread for what was next, not the fear of what might come. But for the knowing that he was tucked up under the stars with the men that he loved, and that he might be about to experience something he had dreamed of for longer than he could remember, really.
“Tell us again, Iz.” Ed’s voice floated to them as they laid looking up at the uninterrupted galaxies through the glass ceiling.
“Tell you what?” Izzy replied, voice no more than a whisper, the silent snow around them making it impossible to speak with any more volume.
“Tells us again about when you first heard about the Northern Lights.”
A smile crossed Izzy’s expression, though neither of them would’ve seen in the dark. A hand trailed gently back and forth over his chest – he thought it was probably Stede’s, because Ed’s hand was buried in his hair, caressing slowly. “I was about seven. There was this book in the school library. I can’t remember what it was called now. But it was about Scandinavia, or the Nordic countries, I don’t know, at seven you don’t really pay attention.” There was a soft laugh from the other two, making him smile again. “It was about igloos and wolves and… anyway. On the last page, there was this illustration. It was probably shit, if I think about it now. But this drawing of swathes of green, like curtains, hung in the sky. I was convinced it wasn’t real.” He shifted more against Ed, resting his head on his shoulder, daring for a moment to take his eyes away from where they had been fixed on the sky, letting them drop closed as he allowed himself to settle into the warmth of them. “I went back and read it every week, for years. When I was old enough to find out that they were real, that was it. I just thought… one day, I have to see them. One day.”
The clocks ticked to midnight. Somewhere in the distance bells chimed twelve. Christmas Day. Stede pressed a kiss to Izzy’s hair, hand still trailing his hot skin. “How about today?” he whispered in his ear.
His eyes shot open so fast he wondered how he hadn’t made himself dizzy. Pulling away from Ed’s side, his gaze fixed up again on the ceiling, through the glass, to the depth of the night sky beyond. And there, just beginning their magical dance, was aurora borealis. Hazed, and distant, but most definitely there. A brief smudge of green, building slowly, shimmering across the sky like an apparition.
Speechless, unable to find anything to say at all, Izzy tried to scramble to his feet, tried to negotiate the fact that the whole floor of the igloo was basically a mattress, and that was very hard to stand on, and getting up off the floor with his leg on had never been easy, but he’d left his leg on in case of this exact moment and…
Ed was on his feet in front of him, holding out a steady, unwavering hand. “Come on,” he encouraged gently, hauling Izzy up. The next few minutes flew by in a flurry of them all trying to pull on snow suits and boots, tug on hats, zip up layers, Izzy’s eyes fixing up onto the ceiling every few seconds whenever he got the opportunity. In the end, Ed and Stede practically dressed him like a toddler, zipping him into his suit and tumbling with him out of the door into the thick snow.
The cold hit them like a brick wall, but it was the most willing to be cold any of them had ever felt. Not looking where they were going at all, their eyes were instantly glued to the sky, to the horizon, to the way the magical dance was just beginning against the curvature of the earth.
The entire atmosphere was silent. It felt like there wasn’t another soul for hundreds of miles. Izzy had never felt more alone in the universe and never been happier for it. The patterns began to build, the green hueing into a gentle blue against the deep navy of the sky. After a few minutes, pinks began to speckle into view, dancing against the edges of the green, pressing and folding together, mixing like ink in water.
Calling it beautiful was almost insulting to what they were witnessing, but in that moment, Izzy didn’t think there were any words in any language across the entire world that were fit for the sight.
“Don’t cry, darling, the tears will freeze,” Stede teased gently, stepping closer to his side and winding an arm around his waist. Izzy laughed wetly, elbowing his side. He hadn’t even registered the tears had pricked his eyes, escaped down his cheeks. He raised a gloved hand, wiping them away quickly, leaning into Stede.
“Isn’t it just the most stunning thing you’ve ever seen?” he whispered, the absolute awe in his tone akin to child-like wonder. Ed was at his other side then, arm looping above Stede, pressing close so all three were connected through the layers and layers of insulated clothing, entwined together, and holding on like they had always done.
The perfect moment.
“Merry Christmas, Izzy.”