Chapter Text
‘Stop fucking moving,’ Jim snaps. ‘I’m trying to concentrate!’
‘You’re taking too fucking long,’ Izzy says. ‘Just get it over with before I change my mind.’
‘I could do it, if you don’t trust Jim,’ Roach suggests.
‘Have you ever pierced someone’s ear before?’ Jim asks.
‘It doesn’t look that hard,’ Roach rolls his eyes. ‘You just stab through his earlobe, put the jewellery in, and done.’
‘I’ll take my chances with Jim,’ Izzy replies drily. ‘If they could hurry the fuck up .’
Jim curses under their breath. ‘I’m trying to make sure it’s placed properly, stop complaining. Do you want it to look bad?’
‘Just be patient,’ Lucius says. ‘You’re gonna look so hot when it’s done.’
Somehow, the conversation during games night had moved on to piercings, and the lot of them had started insisting that Izzy should get his ear pierced. He resisted, as he always does with their schemes. But he’s always liked the look of earrings, always admired them on other people — and he doesn’t hate the idea of having one or two himself.
Like sharks sensing blood in the water, he was bundled off to the galley the second they felt his resolve crumbling. Along the way, they’d somehow procured a little gold hoop for him, and now he’s perched on a barrel and waiting for Jim to get on with it while Roach and Lucius look on with mild interest.
The scrutiny is a little embarrassing. This whole thing is so unnecessary, really. He’s too old for this sort of thing, and, really, just because he likes the look of them on other people doesn’t mean it’ll suit him necessarily. And there’s always the risk of infection, or the earring being ripped out in a fight. Maybe he should tell them he’s changed his mind—
‘Ow, fuck!’ Izzy curses at the sharp sting of the needle in his ear. ‘After all that, you could’ve given me some warning.’
‘You were about to do your dumb little routine,’ Jim shrugs, unrepentant. ‘Figured I should hurry up before you backed out.’
‘What dumb little routine?’ Izzy reaches up to touch the gold hoop and Jim bats his hand away, cleaning his ear with a rag soaked in alcohol. Izzy squirms in his chair, uncomfortable. It stings, and he’s disappointed in himself at just how much it hurts. He’s been stabbed, and shot, and had his toe cut off, but one little earring is where his pain tolerance draws the line?
‘You know, when you’re like, oh, I’m the First Mate, I’m too important and emotionally constipated to hang out with my crew .’ Lucius says, doing a frankly insulting impression of Izzy while Roach cackles. ‘You get this look on your face every time you’re about to do it.’
‘Maybe I just decided I don’t trust any of you with sharp objects,’ Izzy complains, secretly pleased. The fact that they know him well enough to know when to get him out of his own head leaves him feeling oddly warm. Friendship, he decides, is fucking weird. ‘Where’s this earring from, anyway?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Roach says, dismissive enough that Izzy knows he absolutely should worry about it. But before he can press the issue further, Lucius holds up a small mirror. His earlobe is red and still bleeding slightly, but the gold hoop glints attractively as he moves his head. For a moment, Izzy thinks he looks quite nice. It’s strange how a tiny piece of metal in his ear suddenly makes him look so dashing.
He feels stupid, a little embarrassed to like the earring when it’s so pointless. He’s never been vain, never allowed himself to care about things like jewellery or hair dye. For most of his youth he was focused on surviving, coveting things he liked in silence and accepting the fact that he’s not the kind of person who gets to have nice things like jewellery. And now he’s old and grey and tired, far too old to be fussing over an earring. Surely he’s missed the proverbial boat and should leave it to the younger crew members.
‘Like I said,’ Lucius says smugly, ‘hot. The captains are going to freak out.’
‘Listen to me,’ Izzy says, voice quiet and deadly serious. It’s a tone he’s perfected over the years, threatening enough to silence an entire tavern when he needs it. ‘I love you. You are very important to me, and I would give my life before seeing you hurt. But if you do that one more time I’m going to throw you off the fucking ship myself. Do you understand?’
Worm blinks down at him, unmoving from where she’s sitting on his chest. She tilts her head.
He breathes a sigh of relief. ‘I’m glad we could come to an agreement.’
She reaches out her front paw and bats at his new earring.
‘Is it supposed to look like that?’ Roach squints at Izzy’s earlobe, bright red and still bleeding a little.
‘The fucking cat thinks it’s a toy,’ Izzy grumbles, trying not to wince as Roach dabs more alcohol on his ear. ‘She won’t leave it alone.’
‘Worm has expensive taste,’ Roach says approvingly, wiping at Izzy’s earlobe with a little more force than is entirely necessary. He’s starting to get the feeling that Roach is doing it on purpose to watch him squirm. ‘If we aren’t careful, she’ll start going for the captains’ jewellery collection.’
Izzy can already imagine it. Worm happily shredding delicate golden chains with her sharp claws, chasing pearls as they clatter across the floor of the captain’s cabin. He can imagine Stede watching on in horror, valiantly trying to pretend he’s not bothered by it as he carefully hides the rest of his finery before she discovers the silks. He wonders how Ed would react. If he’d laugh, or if he’d be disappointed in Izzy for letting the cat wreak havoc over Stede’s belongings.
Before, he thinks Ed might have found it funny. He always enjoyed seeing a bit of chaos, especially at someone else’s expense. But this new Ed is a little too foreign, a little too distant - Izzy can’t read him the way he used to.
He wonders if Ed feels the same. If he looks at Izzy and sees a stranger, and tries to reconcile who they are now with who they used to be.
Probably not. He doubts Ed thinks much about him at all.
‘I might drop her in the captain’s cabin, then,’ Izzy says. ‘Leave her unsupervised for a few hours, see what happens.’
‘Hell yeah,’ Roach says. ‘Are we still mad enough at the captains to be dicks to them? I’ll stand guard while we let her run riot.’
The crew are still giving Ed the cold shoulder, from what Izzy’s seen. They’re at least back to following orders, but there’s a definite frostiness to their interactions with him that’s new. He feels guilty, watching Ed’s smile dim and his eyes tighten whenever he’s on deck. Izzy knows he should do something about it, step in and remind the crew of their place. But the ship is functioning well, and no one is actively sabotaging Ed’s meals anymore, so he doesn’t have a leg to stand on other than the fact that he doesn’t like it when Ed is upset. But this is also the first time in along time where Izzy is the one inside the social circle, surrounded by friends instead of being cast off on the sidelines. It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone but Ed in his corner and, so, despite his noble intentions, he doesn’t say anything.
‘Maybe next time,’ Izzy says, and hopes that Roach is just being theatrical when he groans in disappointment.
‘Knock knock,’ Stede says cheerfully, pushing his way into Izzy’s room. He’s carrying a tray with two bowls of the stew he’d seen Roach making earlier today. ‘I brought dinner.’
‘Saying knock knock as you’re already coming in defeats the purpose,’ Izzy says, just to see Stede roll his eyes. He settles the tray on the ground slowly, keeping an exaggerated eye on Worm as he does so. ‘Isn’t it story time tonight?’
‘Pete and The Swede wanted to have a go at acting out one of the stories,’ Stede says, passing over one of the bowls to Izzy. He settles in next to Izzy, concentrating on his stew.
‘Didn’t think you’d be so willing to give up creative control,’ Izzy replies, watching Stede carefully.
Stede clears his throat, somewhat awkwardly. ‘Well, I had more important matters to attend to. Someone stood me up for breakfast this morning.’
Izzy stares down at his own bowl. Stede had given him direct orders to come to the cabin for breakfast around mid-morning, promising that Ed would make himself scarce. Izzy had gone, and stood awkwardly in front of the cabin door long enough that the crew started giving him pitying looks. Eventually he’d chickened out of going in and stomped around deck shouting orders at everyone until the panic subsided.
It had been easier, that fragile morning when Stede had dragged him down to the galley for breakfast. It had been neutral territory, where they could talk and joke as if nothing had gone wrong. But entering the captain’s cabin, after everything, had felt too daunting a task.
‘Sorry,’ Izzy says eventually.
‘It’s all right,’ Stede replies, even though Izzy knows it’s not all right, and that Stede is being altogether too patient with him. ‘I realised later it was probably a bit much. I thought we could have dinner here instead.’
Izzy is struck, again, by the way Stede is so carefully considerate. He has every right to be upset at Izzy: for standing him up, for backing out of their agreement, for wasting his and Ed’s time both. But instead he’s happily amended their plans to something he thinks Izzy might be more comfortable with. There is no shame, or judgement, or frustration. Instead, he’s perched beside Izzy on his hammock, smiling and eating dinner, looking as comfortable as he might have if they were doing this in the captain’s cabin.
The knowledge that Stede is spending time with him simply because he likes Izzy and wants to enjoy his company is strange and terrifying. There are no expectations placed on him; he doesn’t have to be Israel Hands, Fearsome Pirate, terrifying and violent and cruel. He doesn’t have to be Izzy Hands, Blackbeard’s First Mate, stoic and efficient and focused, or Izzy, Ed’s Friend, patient and long-suffering while he picks up after Ed’s messes. Stede just wants him to be Izzy, whoever that is.
‘Thanks,’ Izzy says, inadequate as always. Stede beams at him anyway, and then Izzy watches as his eyes stray to one side of Izzy’s face with a frown.
‘Is that an earring?’
‘Yes,’ Izzy says. ‘We were talking about piercings, and Jim and Roach got the idea that I should have one. It’s stupid, I’ll probably take it out soon.’
‘Don’t do that!’ Stede says hastily. ‘I like it. Makes you look very dashing.’
Izzy rolls his eyes, even has he feels his face burn. It was embarrassing enough thinking it about himself, let alone hearing Stede say it. ‘It’s just an earring.’
‘The right accessory does wonders,’ Stede says. ‘You look like one of those pirates from those silly romance novels, all suave and threatening.’
The idea that Stede, with his fancy wardrobe and perfect, golden hair and impeccable manners thinks he’s the one who’s romance novel material is genuinely laughable. Stede seems unreal, with his good fortune and unfailing optimism and endless wells of patience. The more time Izzy spends with him, the more he understands why Ed is so taken with him, why Izzy was never enough.
‘You don’t have to flatter me,’ Izzy says, watching as Worm stalks closer to them, tail swishing, clearly looking to pounce. She’s become steadier on her three legs, lately, and has started trying to hunt. It’s adorable.
‘It’s not flattery,’ Stede replies, far too sincere for Izzy to handle. ‘It’s the truth. I meant it when I told you that you were handsome without the beard, and when you dyed your hair blue, and I mean it now. It seems like every look you try out works for you.’
‘Shut up,’ Izzy says weakly. It’s too much, to sit here and listen to Stede compliment him as if he deserves it. As if any of those things are true.
Stede looks like he’s going to say something else, but, blessedly, Worm chooses that moment to pounce. Izzy watches, amused, as she wrestles viciously with Stede’s slipper while Stede plays along and tries not to wince at the sharp claws digging into his foot.
‘Brave little thing,’ he says, strained. ‘I think she could fight off a Navy ship on her own, if she were so inclined.’
Izzy laughs and watches her successfully remove Stede’s slipper from his foot and roll around with it. It’s twice her size, but she’s battling it anyway, tiny claws tearing into the fabric.
‘Come on, Worm,’ he says, reaching down to try and pry the slipper from her. She stills and blinks up at him, clearly trying to comprehend why he’s getting in the way of her fresh kill. ‘Give Stede his slipper back, it’s not a toy.’
‘Oh, let her have it,’ Stede says. ‘I’ve got others, and she looks like she’s having fun.’
Izzy looks over at Stede, gingerly attempting to coo at a cat that hates him while she shreds his expensive, fancy slippers to pieces. His heart aches in a new and terrible way that has nothing to do with Ed, for once. ‘If you’re sure.’
The smile Stede gives him is warm, a weighty significance to it that Izzy doesn’t know how to read. ‘I am.’
‘Love the earring,’ Wee John says, like that’s going to distract Izzy from the fact that he’s hauling a powder keg up onto the deck. ‘Looks great on you. Very intimidating. No offence, but I think it works better than the blue hair did.’
‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘Nothing,’ Wee John says, incredibly suspiciously. He keeps trying to edge past Izzy with the powder keg, like Izzy’s going to let him go without an explanation. ‘Just some reorganising.’
Izzy takes a deep breath. ‘Where are you taking the gunpowder?’
‘Up on deck,’ Wee John says again. ‘Just putting together a little surprise for the captain, is all.’
‘You’re putting together a surprise. Involving gunpowder. For Stede.’
Wee John’s shifty look is telling enough, and all it takes is a particularly intense glare from Izzy for him to sigh in defeat. ‘ Fine . I’ll leave Ed alone.’
’Thank you,’ Izzy replies, baffled by the fact that he’s thanking a member of crew for not committing an act of violence against their captain.
‘Can I keep the gunpowder up here, though?’
‘No!’
Izzy mentions wanting to hold a crew meeting at the next games night, while they’re all staring intently down at their cards. He’s noticed that the easiest way to keep the crew compliant is to make sure they’re distracted when giving direct orders, so that they don’t remember to be incredibly annoying about it.
‘We haven’t had a meeting in ages,’ Frenchie says. ‘Reminds me of the good old days.’
‘Were they really good though? We weren’t even real pirates at that point,’ Oluwande says.
‘Maybe you guys weren’t,’ Pete sniffs. ‘ I was. I sailed with Blackbeard way before any of you losers did.’
‘Oh my God—‘
‘Babe, is this really the hill—‘
‘Mate, you can’t bring that shit up while Blackbeard’s actual crew are with us—‘
‘It’s true though,’ Izzy pipes up, enjoying the way that everyone immediately turns to stare at him, silent and wide-eyed. ‘He did, maybe a decade back. Before Ivan and Fang joined up. One time, we raided a French ship and he did this really cool backflip off the rail.’
‘Holy shit,’ Wee John says softly, while Pete beams.
In truth, Pete had been nothing more than an awkward, clumsy, starry-eyed cabin boy that they’d picked up for a few months one time, long enough ago that Izzy had barely recognised him when they’d joined up with the Revenge . But he’d approached Izzy on watch one evening and confessed, shame-faced, to the lies he’d been telling the rest of the crew. Izzy hadn’t cared much at the time — still doesn’t, really. Pete’s hardly the first sailor to lie about having crossed paths with Blackbeard. This is just the first time that it’s been funny enough for Izzy to play along, and he resists the urge to laugh at the dumbfounded expressions on the rest of the crew.
‘I can’t believe you were telling the truth this whole time,’ Jim says.
‘Yeah, what the fuck?’ Frenchie says. ‘I really thought you were just making it up.’
‘I told you guys!’
‘Anyway,’ Izzy says loudly. ‘Meeting? Tomorrow?’
‘Yes, mum ,’ Ivan says, but it’s good-natured enough that Izzy lets it go.
‘Lucius has extra cards up his sleeve,’ is what he says, instead, and sits back to watch as they all start shouting and throwing cards at each other. This time, Izzy doesn’t bother holding back a grin. He’s really starting to enjoy game nights.