Chapter Text
Under the soft lamplight, sitting at his desk with a black colored pencil in hand slowly working out the intricate details of the design, Izzy was relaxed. It was late-- a glance he threw at the clock just minutes before had read 12:19. It wasn’t uncommon for him to work on his art past midnight; he’s no stranger to restless nights and this was one of the few things that helped him decompress. Tonight, however, it hadn’t been his mind racing that often left him tossing and turning before he would admit defeat and abandon his warm bed for his desk. Instead, it was the congestion that left his sinuses aching and burning and a cough that was triggered every time he lay down. His attempts to sleep upright had been futile, so he abandoned the safety of the darkness of his bedroom and opted to work under the light which wasn’t helping with his headache but still put him at ease. This was his routine when he was under the weather and couldn’t sleep--he’d work until his body had no choice but to allow his brain to slip into unconsciousness. Sometimes it took hours, sometimes it barely took time at all, and sometimes it would be so effective that he wouldn’t even have the energy to make it to the bedroom. Instead, he’d opt for the shorter shuffle to the couch, pulling down the blanket he kept draped over the back with him.
Izzy coughed into his hand and sighed, resting his head on his hand as he debated heading back to bed for attempt number two. A sudden noise interrupted him, startling him a bit. There was a soft, almost hesitant knock at the door, making his brow furrow as he checked the clock again to make sure his fevered brain hadn’t made up the fact that it was past midnight. 12:24, it read. His stomach twisted with anxiety as he couldn’t come up with a reason why someone would be at his door this time of night. Ed was away for work, so it wasn’t him stumbling from the bar as he sometimes did, ignoring Izzy’s protests that they couldn’t do
this
anymore to which Izzy would always cave in and sleep beside his ex-husband wondering how he still loved that man despite everything they had gone through. But if it wasn’t Ed, then Izzy had no idea who it could be. He contemplated ignoring it, mostly out of caution than anything when there were three more knocks, a little louder this time.
Just like he always did, Izzy set aside his own well-being and slowly hoisted himself up from his desk. When his left leg hit the floor, it throbbed. He ignored the feeling with a slight wince as he always did when the limb protested from him sitting too long without being stretched. He limped across the living room to the door, feeling the coldness of the wood on his socked, right foot. Despite it being in the middle of winter, Izzy had his windows cracked, preferring fresh air over warmth. The doorknob was cold too when he grasped it in his hand and slowly turned it. He opened the door just a crack and poked his head around it, preparing himself for the worst.
Seeing who it was made his stomach twist again. Taking in the state of him made his heart race. Izzy opened the door wider now, trying to process the situation. Stede Bonnet, his ex-husband’s partner, was standing in his doorway. And he was bleeding.
He was more than bleeding, Izzy realized, as he took it all in. A cut on his forehead was bleeding, his right knuckles were bleeding, but also his left eye was bruised, and the top of his lip was swollen in the corner just a bit. “What the fuck?” Izzy didn’t intend to say that out loud, but it slipped out breathlessly. He couldn’t come up with one good reason why this might be happening to him right now.
Stede’s lip quivered, and a tear slid down his cheek. “Ed-Ed’s out of town,” he whispered. Like Izzy wouldn’t already know that. “I… your place was closest. I-I don’t know.”
Izzy, still not entirely convinced he wasn’t having the most vivid fever dream ever, grabbed Stede by the arm and quickly, but as gently as he could, pulled Stede into his house and closed the door. Stede was wearing a dress shirt and a blazer, which hardly constituted an actual jacket. His pants were torn at the knee, his knee was bleeding. He was shaking, and whether it was due to the situation or the cold, Izzy didn’t know. All he knew as his
ex-husband’s boyfriend
was standing before him, bleeding and crying.
Stede didn’t say anything, didn’t offer an explanation. Izzy had to start again. It wasn’t easy--he had to set aside confusion, his over-active mind not knowing how to handle this, and on top of it all, resentment. “Stede, what happened?” he asked. He tried not to sound so gruff, but a gentle tone wasn’t familiar to him enough to pull off in the heat of the moment.
Stede was gasping for air. He looked as though he was trying to catch his breath while also trying not to start sobbing. Izzy wanted to tell him to just breathe, but the words wouldn’t come out. It was too weird--the idea of comforting this man.
This
man. It would have been easy enough to say it too--he said it to clients all the time, especially those getting their first tattoo. But this was Stede Bonnet. “I was out at The Verge,” Stede explained. “There were these men…
fuck
I don’t know why I came here. This is the last place I should have come to. I’m… I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I have to go.”
Izzy grabbed Stede’s arm again. “You’re already here, can’t exactly have you running back out in the cold now, can I?” Stede seemed to relax a bit. Izzy cleared his throat and sniffed. “The fuck’s The Verge? And what men? Where?”
Stede took a few deep breaths. He seemed to be calming down quite a bit, and Izzy was trying not to think about that maybe the other man felt safer now. Safer with him. “It’s a gay bar, across the street from Club Moderne.” Izzy didn’t know what or where the fuck that was, but he let Stede continue. “These two men, they were advancing on me all night. I told them I was taken, but they didn’t stop. I was just there to meet Lucius for some drinks. I thought they had finally given up, but they were waiting for me outside, in an alley.”
Izzy’s throat dried, and his stomach and heart sank. “Did they-”
Stede knew where he was going. “No, they didn’t do anything like that, but they…” he trailed off, letting out a hysterical, bitter chuckle. “Well, they gave me a good ass-kicking. They took my wallet, too. That's why I had to walk here, I don't have money for a cab.”
Izzy couldn’t understand this new feeling of resentment, this time not for Stede, but for the men he was describing. He had his issues with Stede, issues that weren’t at all actually related to who Stede was, but this was just inhumane. It made him want to give those two pieces of shit a taste of their own medicine.
Stede was still shivering, and Izzy realized maybe he was being a little inhumane as well. “Christ, Bonnet, sit on the couch. Let’s have a look, shall we?”
Stede wordlessly headed toward the couch. He was hunched over, and Izzy was thinking about his ribs. He limped after Stede, and while Stede got settled on the couch, Izzy grabbed his desk chair and set it down across from the other man. He then went into his bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet and grabbed his container of isopropyl wipes and bandages. He didn’t have much else, a realization that occurred to him when he was looking earlier for anything to help with his congestion. He didn’t have anything besides his prescriptions and ibuprofen, so he had popped four of the latter earlier and called it good. His empty stomach was still protesting the move even two hours later, which he was just doing his best to ignore.
Izzy brought everything out to the living room and slowly sat down in the chair before Stede. The man was still trembling and Izzy had to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Bonnet, there’s a blanket right behind you. Just use it.”
Stede looked apprehensive , but did as Izzy said and grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders. “What are you doing?” Stede asked softly.
Izzy did roll his eyes then. “You’re bleeding, I brought out bandages. Try to put two-and-two together, aye?”
Stede swallowed, looking like he was going to start crying again. “Why are you helping me?”
He sounded so broken and scared, Izzy felt for him. He felt pity for Stede, and murderous intent on the men who harassed him all night just to nearly beat him to death. “Why are you being an idiot?” he fired back but kept his voice soft. He gestured with his finger for Stede to lean forward, and the man obeyed but winced as he came closer. He’d need to take a look at Stede’s ribs next, he decided. He grabbed an alcohol wipe and decided to keep the conversation going to distract Stede. He knew this was going to sting. “Ed would have my ass if he knew I threw you out, so I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” As gently as he could, he began to wipe the blood away and clean the cut. Stede winced but was doing better than Izzy expected. “If something happened to his pretty little boyfriend, he’d go ballistic.” Ed was never like that with Izzy, never so
soft
with him. But their relationship had been different.
“Fiance,” Stede said. Izzy froze. He pulled back and looked at Stede, and despite the situation, Stede was smiling, the mere word he just uttered clearly bringing him joy. For a moment Izzy felt like he couldn’t breathe. It felt stupid to be so affected by this news, seeing as Stede was Ed’s now, and them getting married was something Izzy knew would happen eventually.
He pulled himself together the best he could. “And when-when did that happen?” Izzy asked, trying to sound casual.
“Just this last weekend,” Stede said, the smile on his face slipped. “Ed proposed? We were out for a walk in the park and--” Stede put a hand to his mouth. “Oh, god. You didn’t know.”
Izzy shrugged and sniffed. “Fucking news to me. But whatever, Ed isn't obligated to run anything by me. Not that he did when we were fucking married. Besides, why would I fucking care?”
Stede looked at him with sympathy, and Izzy wanted to punch him in the face, except two assholes beat him to it already. “Still, that’s not--that’s not how I would have wanted you to find out. I thought you knew, I was just trying to playfully correct you. Izzy, I’m so very sorry.”
Izzy sniffed again. “It’s fine. Don’t be such a pansy.” He couldn’t help himself, he glanced down at Stede’s left hand and scoffed. “You always take your ring off when you go to gay bars with your friends?”
Stede looked offended. “Izzy Hands, you certainly aren’t implying
that
, are you? I am a man of honor, I’ll have you know. I’m not wearing a ring because I don’t have one yet. We’re going ring shopping together next Sunday. He said he panicked and wanted me to get one that I’d like. It’s silly of him, I know. I would’ve liked anything he picked out for me, but it is kind of an exciting thing to do together. Very romantic.”
Izzy knew Stede wasn’t trying to rub anything in, especially because he’d been so remorseful of accidentally telling him about the engagement. He figured Bonnet was just that fucking stupid. Izzy contemplated what Stede said for a moment while going back to patching Stede up. Ed had gotten him a ring. The two of them didn’t spend an afternoon together picking one out at the jewelry store, and he was curious what that meant. Maybe Ed just hadn’t cared to. Izzy loved the ring Ed picked out for him though, and right now it was buried underneath all of his socks in his dresser. Out of sight, out of mind, but he couldn’t bear to part with it. “Fucking adorable,” was all Izzy said. It was all he could do to keep the bitterness from his tone.
He wiped at the cut for a final time and Stede pulled away from his touch with a hiss. “I’m being gentle,” Izzy said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve had sixteen-year-old girls in my shop handle getting a tattoo better than this. “Worst part’s over, anyway. Just let me put a fucking bandage on it, you twat.”
Stede leaned forward again and Izzy unwrapped the bandage and carefully placed it on Stede’s forehead. Izzy had been permanently marking people’s bodies for decades now; he was used to every movement with his hands being careful and precise. He smoothed over the bandage with his thumb as gently as he could. “Now lift up your shirt,” he ordered.
Stede’s eyes widened. “What? Izzy? You’re going to
undress
me?”
Izzy had to bite his lip to keep himself from yelling and calling him an idiot. “Lifting your shirt isn’t undressing, is it? Besides, I’ve cracked and broken enough ribs in my lifetime to know what that,” he gestured to Stede with his hand, “posture means. Lift your shirt and let me see.”
Stede untucked his dress shirt and slowly stood up, hissing in pain in the process. He lifted his shirt and Izzy looked at the dark blue and purple bruises that were on the man’s torso. “Hurt to breathe?” he asked Stede.
Stede shrugged. “Yeah, a bit. Mostly, it just hurts to move. In general. A lot.”
“I don’t have anything to wrap you up with. We’ll probably need to go to the hospital, then.” Izzy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was really starting to feel like shit and didn't want to go anywhere, but Stede had clearly walked--probably because he just came from the bar. Stede was not a heavy drinker by any means, he knew that due to his occasional ‘outing’ with both he and Ed when they'd drag him along. He never understood why the two felt the need to pressure him into accompanying them on their dates, but they were always very insistent. It was easier to just agree than to get them to leave me alone. Still, Stede was also the kind of pansy that wouldn't drive even after just half a cocktail.
On top of that, Izzy really fucking hated hospitals. He felt he had served his time with them throughout all the surgeries, treatments, and then finally the amputation. Hospitals remind him of it all becoming too much for Ed.
“Oh, Izzy, I don't think that's necessary. Probably just bruised, right? I can move, just not a lot.” Stede either saw Izzy's reluctance, or he was just being a stubborn twat.
Izzy started to sigh, but his breath hitched. He quickly turned to the side so he wasn't facing Stede and coughed into his hand. The fit was painful, it burned his chest, and it seemed like no matter how much he coughed, he couldn't get the tickle out of his throat. He coughed until he was breathless, he could feel his face turn red from the strain. Finally, it subsided and Izzy stayed facing away, trying to breathe slowly to not trigger another fit.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Izzy, are you alright?” Stede asked.
Izzy took a couple more shallow breaths before answering. “I’m fine, fuck off,” he grumbled. His voice was raspy and weak, so he cleared his voice a couple of times. He looked at the hand and grimaced. “And why the fuck are you manhandling me?” He shook off Stede's hand and scowled at him. “And you should go to the hospital so they can wrap your ribs and give you something for the pain.”
“Are you ill?” Stede sounded concerned.
Izzy wanted to yell at him, but it would probably just trigger another coughing fit. But he was so frustrated. “Don't make this about me. You need to get checked out by a doctor. I can only do so much for you here. Just, let me take you to the fucking hospital, Bonnet.”
Stede looked down. “I would rather not,” he said softly. “I don't like hospitals. I have… bad memories. I don't want to go.” Izzy furrowed his brow, but he didn't have to ask. Stede was an open book, so he explained unprompted. “I used to have a sister. A little sister.” Izzy already didn't like where this was going. He thought Stede had always been an only child. “When she and I were playing at the beach, there was a wave out of nowhere. We got separated and I tried to get to her, but I was struggling to stay afloat myself. We went to the beach often, we were good swimmers, it had never been an issue before. But the wave caused this current and…” Stede paused for a moment. “Eventually, a couple of blokes came and helped us. They got her to shore but she wasn't breathing. They did CPR on her on the beach. Someone used their mobile phone to call 111. I rode with her in the ambulance, and it seemed like she was stabilizing. However, we got to the hospital, our parents were waiting there, and she… she didn't make it. My father was furious with me. In the hallway, he slapped me across the face so hard, the room spun. My mom was hysterical. She was inconsolable. When I think of hospitals, I think of that.”
Izzy was silent for a long time, taking in the story. Stede was always so disgustingly optimistic and happy, like a golden retriever. It was hard to process someone with Sted’s outlook on life who had been through anything so traumatic. “How old were you?” He asked softly.
“I was 15, Hannah was 11.”
Izzy glared, not at Stede, but at the entire situation. “You were a fucking kid. Why was your father angry with you?”
Stede pursed his lips together. “I promised my parents I'd keep her safe. That we could handle a swim, just the two of us. I failed, obviously.”
“You were a fucking kid ,” Izzy repeated. “Even if you hadn't been, you can't control the ocean. It's unpredictable. The most experienced swimmers can drown in the ocean. Or get eaten by a fucking shark, or slip on a rock and hit your head or some shit. Shitty things happen for no reason. It's no different than getting in a car, or hell, walking down the street. Anything can happen anywhere, none of us are completely safe from anything. People die for no reason all the time, but there's nothing we can do about it. Hope you told your dad to fuck off. I know he was grieving, but you don't hit your fucking kids no matter what.”
Stede smiled. “That was all very kind of you to say. You know what you did? You just made me feel better about something.”
Izzy groaned. “Shut up. Don't get all sappy with me now.” Stede continued to smile, which Izzy tried to ignore. Instead, he took Stede's hand and began to inspect his knuckles. He cleaned them in silence, the only noise was an occasional wince from Stede. After he was done, he broke the silence. “Well, I hate hospitals too, so I understand. Guess we have one thing in common, after all.”
Izzy didn't miss Stede's glance at his prosthetic. “Right. Ed's told me you don't go, even when you need to. It worries him, you know. But I'm not one to talk.”
Izzy coughed again, thankfully a shorter fit than the last. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Ed doesn't have to worry about me anymore.” Izzy sniffed. He couldn't hide the bitterness in his tone.
Stede frowned. “He also told me when you get sick, it gets really bad. It gives him quite a fright. I see how often he texts you when he knows you're ill.”
Izzy scoffed. “Yeah, it's bloody annoying.” Stede shivered and pulled the blanket around himself tighter and Izzy realized he still had the windows open like a dick. He slowly got up with a grunt and limped to the windows, shutting each of them. “I forgot about these. I like to keep my house cold.”
“Maybe that's why you're so sick all the time.”
Izzy glared at him. “No, I'm so sick all the time because that's what happens when you have fucking cancer, twat.” The short walk to the windows left him feeling light-headed so he went back to the couch and took a seat on the other end of it, leaving a couple of feet of space between them. He tapped his fingers on his prosthetic leg, a nervous habit he had picked up. “Guess I should take you home then, aye? Patched you up best I could. You're gonna be sore for a few days, but you'll live. I've been in my fair share of scraps.”
Stede didn't respond, he just stared straight ahead, like he was in a trance. Izzy frowned and lightly kicked the side of Stede's foot. “Hey.” Stede looked at him. It was obvious he had something to say. “Come on, out with it now.”
Stede shook his head. “I- it's nothing, really.”
Izzy rolled his eyes. “Just tell me, Bonnet. I'm tired and it's too late for guessing games.”
Stede had that look again. He was going to cry. He looked away and blinked, wrapping the blanket around himself tighter. “I haven't been in my fair share of scraps,” he whispered. “First one, actually. Unless you count my father, but… I never fought back. Not once. I've never had to fight for my life before against another person. Didn't do very well, by the way. I don't know if you can tell, but I kind of lost.” Stede sniffled, his eyes welling up with tears.
Izzy would never understand why, but in that moment he felt the need to make this whole situation a little more bearable for the other man. It wasn't Stede’s fault Ed chose him, and while a part of him still resented him, he didn't think it would be completely fair to be a total dick to him while he was so vulnerable. Izzy took the hand he just cleaned and looked at it. “I dunno, looks like you got a good punch in there. Not bad for your first scrap, especially since it was two against one. Nobody wins every fight.”
Stede choked back a sob, a tear sliding down his face. “I don't want to be alone right now.” Stede sobbed again.
“Easy, easy, that's not gonna do your sore ribs any favors, just breathe.” Izzy didn't know what to say or do. He wasn't really one to comfort someone crying. He ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, trying to brainstorm as Stede sobbed harder. It seemed there was only one solution to this predicament and he sighed. “You can crash the night here, yeah? I mean it's not much, I know.” Izzy regretted offering the moment he did. Not because he couldn't deal with one night sharing his flat with Stede. He planned on going to bed soon anyway, and could just pretend he wasn't there. It was because he realized as soon as he said it that this was probably the last place Stede would want to stay, and he resented the fact that Stede would decline and therefore win .
But Stede Bonnet could sometimes be unpredictable. “R-really?” He wiped his eyes with his hand. “But-but you hate me. Why would you let me stay here?”
Izzy sucked on his teeth. “I do resent you most of the time,” he admitted. “But hate… sometimes I do think I hate you, yeah. But then I have to remind myself it was Ed who broke my heart, not you. You're more innocent in all this than he is and I… I can't bring myself to hate him either.” He coughed. “Besides, I'm an arsehole, but I'm not that much of an asshole. Even if I hated you with every fiber of my being, I wouldn’t tell you to just fuck off despite the situation.”
Stede sniffled and reached out and touched Izzy's arm. “You’re not an arsehole,” Stede said softly. “You're standoffish, bit snarky, definitely very cranky, sarcastic most of the time, oftentimes very aloof-”
“Get to the fucking point, Bonnet.”
“ Impatient, and definitely very intimidating, but I don't think it's fair to call you an arsehole . Even… mean. I don't think I'd call you mean, either.” Stede squeezed his arm before pulling away. “But I do believe I've heard the words ‘fuck off’ tonight.” He laughed a little, which was a surprisingly refreshing sound after he had just finished crying.
Izzy reached over to the coffee table and grabbed two tissues. The first he handed to Stede who used it to wipe his eyes and blow his nose. Izzy only had to do the latter. It was difficult with the congestion, but somehow as clogged as he was, his nose was still running. He finished blowing and coughed, raising his elbow to his mouth. He felt so shitty, and he had only started to feel ill the day before yesterday. Though he was fine with Stede staying the night, he also couldn't wait until he could just suffer alone in peace.
“Do you have a fever, Izzy? You look a little flushed.”
Stede lifted his hand, and Izzy dodged the attack, leaning back into the arm of the couch. “Don't even fucking think about it, Bonnet,” he said, tissue still pressed against his nose. “I don't know, and it doesn't matter. I took four ibuprofen, that's all I can do for it, anyway.”
“When did you take them?”
Izzy removed the tissues from his face and crumpled it up in his hand and tossed it onto the coffee table. Damn him and one garbage can he kept in the apartment that he didn't have the energy to walk over to. “I don't fucking know, Bonnet. Christ. You should take some though, it'll help with the pain. Maybe you'll be able to sleep tonight.” Stede just stared at him and he realized that this was his apartment, so it was kind of his responsibility to get the thing only he knew the location of. With a big grunt, Izzy began to push himself off the couch, wincing in the process. His stump ached more when he was sick. It bothered him often, but never as bad when he came down with something. It was kind of ironic because being so sick was the reason he lost it in the first place.
“Izzy just tell me where it is, and I'll grab it. For goodness sake,” Stede began to stand as well. He too was wincing in the process. He was hunched over far, breathing shallow as he tried to attempt to ease the pain.
“For fucks sake,” Izzy said. “Just sit the fuck down, Bonnet.”
Stede obeyed but didn't look convinced. “But your leg hurts.”
“My leg always fucking hurts, you twat,” he snapped. “Besides, either you get it and be in pain, or I get it and be in pain. Either way, one of us will be in pain, and I think you've suffered enough for the night.”
Izzy was upright now and had to steady himself on the arm of the couch. He hoped Stede would assume because even with experience, walking with a prosthetic wasn't always easy, and wouldn't pick up on the fact that he felt incredibly light-headed. He couldn't lose the argument now; he was already all in. He blamed the dizzy spell on the fact that he hadn't eaten anything the entire day, and the night before he managed just a few bites of toast before feeling too queasy. Once he knew it was safe to let go of the couch, Izzy limped toward the bathroom. He took the time to glance at his reflection in the mirror, which was a mistake. He looked like shit--he was sweaty and pale, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were bloodshot. It was a good thing he had no desire to impress Stede Bonnet of all people. He turned on the water and splashed his face, as though he could wash away the sickly look. He grabbed a hand towel and dried his face before opening the cabinet and pulling out his bottle of ibuprofen. He shook our four pills and filled a paper cup full of water and then limped back to the couch where Stede was waiting, looking as miserable as he felt. The pain had to be really sinking in by this point, and if his own experiences were anything to go by, he'd feel even worse in the morning.
He held out his offerings and Stede took the pills and water before looking back at Izzy, brow furrowed. “I can only take two,” he said.
Izzy scoffed “Why? Think you need a bit more help than that.”
Stede looked apprehensive. “The bottle says to take two every six hours.”
Izzy scowled at him. “The fuck does it matter?” How did Ed deal with this day after day?
Stede still looked unsure and then he shook his head at Izzy. “It's on the bottle for a reason. You know, over-medicating is no good for the liver.”
Izzy wanted to scream. He wanted to strangle this man. “It's fucking ibuprofen, Bonnet. Not fucking oxycodone. Don't be such a twat. They put that on the bottle to cover their asses so if some idiot takes too much and makes themselves sick, they won't be sued. Not so people don't die from taking two extra pills for apparently the first time in their fucking life. I take like ten ibuprofen a day, and I'm fucking fine.”
Stede narrowed his eyes like he was contemplating this. “You don’t… look fine to me, actually. Hmm… might be the lighting though, I'm not sure.”
Izzy threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Fucking fine! Take two, I don't care. Be in pain. Be miserable. It's not my fucking problem.” Izzy huffed and began to hobble to his kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Stede called from the couch.
“Making you some fucking tea, for fucks sake!” Izzy put the kettle on the stove, drumming his fingers onto the countertop. Stede was such a twat, and this whole situation wasn't helping his headache. He was surprised Ed could do anything, like get out of bed, with the constant migraine he must have from being around Stede 24/7. His brain thought then would be a good time to remind him the last couple of years, Ed's been happier than Izzy's ever seen--way happier than he ever was during their 20-year marriage. It stung. Izzy wondered if he'd ever get over it, but he doubted it. He gave everything, his whole heart and soul to Ed, and when Ed left him, he took those things with him.
And now he was pulling herbs out of his cabinet to make Ed’s new fiance tea . What the fuck was the world coming to?
“What kind of tea?”
Izzy nearly dropped the jar but caught it last minute. He looked at Bonnet, glaring at him and gritting his teeth. “You're supposed to be sitting down,” he hissed. “Why am I hobbling about for your sorry ass when you're not going to even stay put?”
Stede himself hobbled too--straight over to the kitchen table. He slowly pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it, his face twisting in pain. “Oooh, that hurts,” he complained, wrapping his arm around his torso.
Izzy looked at him incredulously. After all that, he had the audacity to complain about being in pain. Izzy bit his tongue. “That’s why I’m making you tea because you apparently can’t handle a couple of extra pill”
“What kind of tea?” Stede asked.
“
Herbal
tea,” Izzy said, rolling his eyes. “It’ll help with the pain a bit.”
“What brand is it?”
Izzy furrowed his brow. “There is no brand, twat. I said I’m
making
it.” He turned to his herbs and picked up an assortment of jars, showing each to Stede. “Tumeric, lemongrass, clove, and I’m adding some chamomille to help you sleep. Bit of freshly squeezed lemon juice, orange zest, and a spoonful of honey for flavor. What’s the matter? Worried you’re going to overdose on
herbal fucking tea?”
Izzy wiped away the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead and leaned against the counter. He just wanted to knock Stede out so he himself could get some fucking sleep.
“That’s… lovely, Izzy,” Stede said sounding surprised. “To be honest, I’ve only ever bought tea bags.”
Izzy shrugged. “I like being able to control everything that goes into it. Different herbs help with different things, and well, I’ve had a plethora of
things.”
As if to prove a point, Izzy released a few rounds of hacking, wet coughs into his elbow, muttering a soft “Christ” when it was over and rubbing his hand into circles on his chest.
Stede winced. “Sounds like you might need some herbal tea too.”
Izzy nodded. “Yeah, I’ll make myself a cuppa. I got a good recipe for a blend that’s good for sore throats and mine is starting to kill me.” The kettle began to whistle and Izzy turned off the stove and added the ingredients into an empty tea bag which he tied off and added to a large mug that read ‘The Adventure Begins in New Zealand’. A gift from a friend when he decided to move from London to Napier to start a new life. He poured the hot water and set the cuppa down in front of Stede. “Three to five minutes, let the flavors blend.”
Stede raised an eyebrow, looking down into his tea. “Never took you for a tea drinker, to be honest. You seem more of a coffee man.”
Izzy’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Do I look like a fucking Yankee to you? I’m fucking English, ‘course I drink tea. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good coffee, but tea tastes better and is better for you. I couldn’t tell you how many jars of herbs I went through while going through treatment. Tea was all I could keep down most of the time. Couldn’t drink water, it tasted awful to me while on chemo.”
“How long have you been in remission?” Stede asked. “I hope that’s not too personal.”
Izzy shook his head. “Six years.”
Stede frowned. “But wait, that-- that doesn’t add up. You went into remission
before
you and Ed…” Izzy nodded. “But Ed’s told me that the reason… the reason he left you was because he couldn’t… I mean. I’m not defending him, and I’m not saying it’s right, but that he couldn’t handle you being so ill. It was too much for him, and he panicked.”
Izzy cleared his throat and approached the table, pulling out a chair across from Stede’s spot and sitting down. He figured there was no reason not to explain the situation to Stede. If anything, maybe he deserved to know. “Ed didn’t lie to you when he said that,” Izzy began slowly. “He just… a couple of details out is all. Probably to protect me, and also probably because he’s in serious fucking denial about the truth.” Izzy looked at Stede, whose eyes showed interest and compassion. He rested his arms on the table and leaned forward a bit with a sigh. “So… Christ, where do I start? Okay. The type of cancer I had--osteosarcoma--it’s got a decent survival rate. My numbers were always really good the entire time, and for that, I’m very grateful. It cost me my leg, but that’s not a bad price for life, right? Was hell to finally get there, but it paid off.
“The issue is, Stede, like any other kind of cancer, osteosarcoma can come back. It has a high likelihood of coming back, and if it does, you know survival rate goes down just a bit, depending on where it comes back. Could be my other leg, which would be a giant pain in the ass. But if it metastasis,” he saw Stede’s confused expression, “basically spreads, to other parts of my body, you know let’s say, my hips, or my tendons, or my lungs… my brain…” Izzy trailed off. He had come to terms with this so many years ago, and had already accepted this factor in his life, but on the very, very rare occasion he had this conversation with someone, seeing the pity in their eyes always made him cringe a bit. “Well, it will kill me. It won’t be pretty either. It’s gonna hurt a lot. I told Ed, and I meant it… if it gets to that point, I’m going to put a bullet in my head. I’m gonna put myself out of misery.”
Stede paled. “You wouldn’t try treatment again?” he whispered. He looked physically ill, and Izzy wondered which one of them looked worse right now. “Not even try?” For the third time that night, Stede’s lip quivered and he looked down, staring into his tea.
“Hey,” Izzy said softly, nudging Stede’s arm with his own. “None of that now, don’t cry ‘cause of me.”
Stede sniffled. “I can’t help it,” he said shakily. He grabbed the napkin that Izzy had set underneath his mug and used it to dab at his eyes. “Not just because it’s you, either. It’s just sad. I feel… sad.”
Not just because it’s you
. Was Izzy reading into something there? Was Stede crying over the idea of losing
him?
Surely, he was reading into it--they made him crash dates sometimes, yeah, but he figured they did it because they were worried he was a miserable sack that was gonna off himself or something. Only half of that was true. He didn’t press Stede for further information though. Instead, he got up and began working on his own tea. He added the licorice, the cinnamon, and the cloves. Poured hot water over it and joined Stede back at the table. Stede looked like he was starting to regain his composure just a bit, but his breaths were still shaky. “Speaking of your
boyfriend,”
Izzy said. “You tell him yet?”
Stede shook his head. “It’s morning there in New York. He’s probably already starting his signing. He’ll be busy until we probably get up in the morning. I don’t want to distract him from his work.”
Izzy hummed and used his own napkin to wipe at his nose. “Well, if you tell him where you are, don’t fucking tell him I’ve got a cold. He’s going to think it means I’m dying and flip out. We don’t need him panicking about both of us.”
“Well, after everything you just said, I don’t blame him,” Stede said softly. “Now I’m a little more concerned myself.”
Izzy rolled his eyes. “It’s not the fucking cancer coming back. Think that’d give me bigger problems than a sore throat and stuffy nose. Don’t need both of you being all dramatic on me now.”
“Ed said since undergoing all of those treatments and procedures, you have a tendency to get very ill, though. He’s told me it’ll start out seeming like a cold, then all of a sudden he’s dragging you to the hospital while you’re unconscious, thinking to himself that you’ll get over it and forgive him later.”
Izzy shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. It soothed his burning throat and chest. “Maybe’s happened once or twice.”
“A couple of months ago?”
Izzy scoffed. “That was the norovirus, that’ll knock anyone on their ass. Ed caught it too, and he wasn’t keeping anything down either, you know that.”
“Ah, yes. I… stayed away from him for a while. That was something I didn’t particularly want to catch.”
Izzy polished off his tea, and Stede did the same. They both stood at the same time, both slowly and awkwardly, simultaneously deciding that they both needed to get some rest. Izzy was about to grab Stede’s mug and take both of theirs to the sink when Stede beat him to it. He watched as Stede rinsed both of them out, setting them gently on the drying rack. “Probably the best tea I’ve ever had, thank you, Izzy. Really, it was quite good.”
Izzy dismissed the compliment with a wave of his hand. “It’s throwing together herbs and pouring boiling water on top. That’s like saying someone dipping a paintbrush into a bucket of paint and flicking it at a canvas made a painting that’s “quite good”.
Stede smiled at that as they both headed out to the living room. “Perhaps a quick tour of the rest of the apartment?”
Izzy scoffed.
Rest of the-
He pointed to the kitchen that they just left that was a mere few feet from them now. “Kitchen,” he pointed down, “living room,” and then he pointed down a small hall, also just a few footsteps from where they were standing. “Bedroom, then bathroom. That’s the whole fucking tour.”
“So…” Stede began reluctantly. “Do you have a guest bedroom?”
Izzy raised his eyebrow at that. “You’re fucking joking, right? No, I don’t have a
guest bedroom,
Bonnet. I have a one-bedroom apartment, just like every other goddamn peasant.”
Stede raised his hands in the air. “Just thought I’d ask, just wanted to get that out of the way. I sincerely don’t mind the couch, I promise. I actually thought it was quite comfortable.”
Izzy rolled his eyes. “My couch is ass. Not to mention, you’re way too tall for it. You can’t sleep all huddled up with your ribs all fucked up. That’s gonna hurt like a bitch” Izzy ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I dunno, I didn’t exactly plan for this. I don’t fucking care if you sleep in my bed, I really don’t. I sleep on the couch half the time, anyway, or I was thinking the recliner might be better so I’m not hacking a lung all fucking night. Issue is, it’s covered in my germs at this point. I haven’t felt well the last couple of days and I’ve only got one set of sheets.”
Stede frowned. “How… how do you only have one set of sheets?” Izzy glared at him, and he corrected himself. “I don’t… I don’t mean financially, I mean… practically. I’m not saying you’re too poor to afford sheets.”
Izzy shook his head. “It’s called a fucking
washing machine,
Bonnet. There’s a shared one downstairs. It’s this really crazy concept where you strip your bed, wash the bedding, dry the bedding, and then put said bedding back
on
the bed. The bed can be bare for a while, what does it matter?”
Stede shrugged. “What if you have… company over but can’t go into the bedroom because there are no sheets on the bed?”
Izzy rubbed his eyes. “Easy, I don’t go out looking for a fuck buddy in the hour and a half it takes me to wash my shit.” Izzy didn’t mention that he didn’t do that at all. That’s why he had never heard of this so-called gay bar called The Verge that apparently he lived near. He wasn’t 25 anymore. Or 35. Or 45…
Stede shrugged. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine on the couch.”
Izzy shook his head. “You’ll be fucking miserable. You’re gonna be feeling it pretty badly by tomorrow as is.”
Stede shrugged. “Germ bed it is, then. I think I’ll be alright. I actually have a fantastic immune system.”
Izzy ran a hand down his face and rubbed his eye. “Well, good for fucking you.” He sat down on the couch and immediately began the process of taking off his prosthetic. He’d been wearing it all day and his stump ached from overuse, and on top of it, being sick was not helping. Every muscle in his body was sore. He took this time to assess how he was feeling. Sore, a little queasy, dizzy, he had a headache, felt both too hot and too cold at the same time, congested, exhausted. He suddenly realized there was a presence still with him in the room, and he gave Stede a puzzled look.
“I just… I figured you’d at least want your pillows from your bed?” Stede asked.
Izzy was now the one puzzled. “What do you mean?” He took his hands off his prosthetic and grabbed the pillow that was propped up in the corner of the couch. “I have a pillow.”
“That’s a throw pillow, not a pillow.”
“What the fuck does it-” he knew this was going to be a losing battle, so he stopped. “Whatever, I use the fucking throw pillow as a pillow sometimes, alright? Now fuck off, Bonnet go get some sleep. And look through the dresser in there, aye? For something to sleep in. There are, uh... Well, still got some of Ed's old things. Haven't gotten around to giving them back or getting rid of them. Should fit you, my stuff's probably too short.” He began to tug on the leg. Stede still hadn’t left. Izzy looked at him again. “What the fuck is it?”
Stede bit his lip. “I’ve just… I’ve never seen…”
Izzy understood. He supposed there was no harm in a little morbid curiosity. He took the leg off and gestured lazily to his stump. “Now you’ve seen it, congrats.”
Bonnet smiled at him. The smile was warm and soft. “It makes you, you,” he whispered. “And nobody wants to be the exact same as everyone else. My friend Lucius is missing a finger, and honestly, it’s quite the ice-breaker. You should meet him sometime, you know?”
Izzy wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, pass. I don’t need you to form your ragtag band of friends with missing limbs.”
Stede chuckled. “Just a thought. Anyway, have a good night, Izzy. Rest up, and I hope you feel better in the morning.”
Izzy mumbled a “night” and draped the blanket over his body, rested his head on the pill-
‘throw pillow’
and closed his eyes. He hoped they both felt better in the morning, but he had a sinking feeling that wasn’t going to be the case.