Archive of Our Own ^beta

There is a reason why Izzy never goes to these things.

“Iz!”

Izzy looks over, over his beer cup, and sure enough Edward is doing something stupid.

Standing on top of the table, with his knee fucked up as it is, is a recipe for disaster, but there he is, his own beer cup in hand, dancing on top of the living room table at a college party. Izzy takes one step foward, intent on retrieving Edward before he falls on his ass, but there is a a flash of coiffed blond hair, and he remembers.

Right.

That isn’t his job anymore.

Edward has a pretty rich little boyfriend and now all idiocy related bullshit falls to him, not Izzy.

Never Izzy again.

Izzy raises his glass then, in greeting, and could have sworn Edward’s face falls in response, but, again, that isn’t his responsibility anymore, so he turns and walks away, tries to find a corner to hide in.

Except life is never so kind to Izzy Hands, was it?

“That was rough, Iz-man.” Jack comments, a smirk on his face, and Izzy imagines for one moment what it might be like to punch him across the face.

Surely it would make him feel a little better.

Right?

“Shut the fuck up, Rackham.”

Jack hums. “Don’t think so, little man. I didn’t know you and Eddie had called it quits.”

Izzy scofffs. “We were never together-together to begin with, Jack, you know that. Stop being a shithead.”

“I mean, that’s a lie. Whatever it may be, there’s something between you and Eddie, you know that.” Jack says and that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

“Yeah, well, whatever it was, Edward clearly doesn’t give a shit, does he? He made his choice, and it wasn’t me.” Izzy feels his eyes water and the humiliation burns worse. “I don’t want to talk about this shit. Either shut up or leave me alone.”

“Easy, Izzy. Don’t get your knickers in a tizzy.” Jack teases, giggling.

“That’s not how that saying goes.” Izzy grumbles, leaning back against the wall.

Together, they’re in a little corner of the room, shadowed by bookcases, and it’s nice, it’s warm, Izzy can finally think if he can’t see Edward and the blond little toff giggling and kissing everywhere he turns. In here, he only has to focus on Jack, on his beer, on surviving this stupid party.

He doesn’t even know why he came.

(He does. He knows why. One reason is dancing on top of a table and and the other is trying to get the first reason to get down without breaking something. They didn’t want him. They made that clear when they didn’t even tell him they were fucking around - he had to find that out when they forgot he was coming over for dinner and found Edward on his knees, gagging around a mouthful of Bonnet. They don’t give a shit. Maybe if he repeats that enough times, he’ll believe it enough that they’ll stop fucking consuming his every waking hour.)

“You know, I wouldn’t look anywhere else if I had you.” Jack croons and Izzy scoffs, expects to see the same teasing glint in his eyes, except Jack is serious, somber, hungry.

Fuck.

“Jack, fuck off.” Izzy says, choked up, using every ounce of willpower not to shake, not to show Jack he’s affected.

“Iz, I’m serious.” Jack whispers, leaning in, stopping just got close enough for Izzy to feel his breath on his face - it didn’t feel as disgusting as it should have, it smelled like beer, nothing else. Izzy’s sure he does too. “Can I kiss you?”

Izzy considers it.

It would be nice, to be wanted, to feel like something other than disappointment.

He nods.

“I need more than that, sweetcheeks.” Jack mutters, cupping his cheek, rubbing his thumb across his cheekbone.

“Kiss me, you fucking moron.” Izzy hisses, pulling Jack in by the front of his sweatshirt, and as they both lean in, as they’re both about to kiss, a person approaches.

“Israel, just the person I was looking for!” Stede fucking Bonnet says, as loudly as he can muster, and Jack rolls his eyes.

Izzy takes a deep breath, prepares himself to look at him, to deal with whatever bullshit is coming now, and once he’s sure he won’t fly into a rage, he turns his gaze at Stede.

The twat’s smile is wide, but strained.

“What do you want?” Izzy asks through gritted teeth.

Stede flinches, not expecting the vitriol. “I just- I would like to speak to you for a moment.”

Izzy opens his mouth, ready to tell him to fuck off, when he sees him - Edward, standing on the other side of the room, looking at him and Jack with blank eyes, drinking the remainder of the beer in his cup in one long pull.

Edward’s mad. Fuck.

Where does he get off being mad?

Izzy exhales sharply through his nose, trying to keep his own rage in check, and nods. “Yeah. Alright. Let’s talk. But first-” He turns to Jack, pulls him in, and completes what they were going to do until they were rudely interrupted.

Their kiss is hard initially, Izzy too angry to put any finesse into it, but Jack tilts his head and switches it up, swiftly turning the collision of their mouths into something more elegant, nibbles at his lower lip hard enough to surprise Izzy into a soft gasp, and licking into his mouth, stealing his breath right from under him.

“That is quite enough.” Stede mutters, pulling them apart with a hand in Jack’s chest pushing him back, and Izzy gasps, clutching at Stede’s arms to regain his balance. “Izzy, please.”

He puts himself - and his ridiculous broad shoulders - between them both.

Jack rolls his eyes again, looking at Izzy from above Stede’s shoulder, winking before he says, “If you need anything else, call me.”

Izzy nods, dazed, and Stede curses under his breath, making Izzy look at him wide-eyed - Stede doesn’t swear, he doesn’t curse, he doesn’t even say ‘darn’.

Stede freezes, caught, and then straightens his shoulders, the perfect picture of dignified outraged.

“Please. We just want to talk to you.” Stede says, explains, and Izzy can see how much it’s killing him not to go into the rambling speech he no doubt rehearsed before coming here.

Stede is a fucking idiot.

He used to be his idiot too, though.

Jack walks off, waving at Izzy as he does, and then blends into the rest of the crowd.

“Fine.” He mutters.

What does he have to lose anymore?

They take him home.

Edward is quiet the entire Uber ride there, looking out the window, hands curled into fists on his lap. He hasn’t spoken a single word to Izzy since Stede took him by the hand and told Edward that he was willing to hear them out. Izzy thought they were going to find a room somewhere in the house and have it out there, but apparently not, apparently this merits enough care that they’re bringing him to their little love nest.

Ugh.

Not how Izzy thought his night was going to go.

To his left, Stede is also looking out the window, uncharacteristically silent, fiddling with his thumbs.

Wonderful.

What has he gotten himself into?

The street is familiar, so is the climb up the flight of stairs to Edward’s apartment, and it doesn’t sting that Stede has a key - Izzy has one too, he keeps it in his keychain with his other keys, because he thought he mattered to Edward, he thought it meant something, but apparently not.

He wants to scream that into Stede’s face, that he doesn’t mean anything either, that Edward is fucking Stede just until something new and exciting comes along, and then he’ll also jump ship and leave him off to discover that by stumbling across Edward with the new flavor of the month’s dick in his mouth too.

He bites his tongue though.

They want to talk, so Izzy is willing to listen, maybe this will finally be the thing that will bring him closure.

Edward’s apartment is a second home, he knows every nook and cranny of it, he helped him decorate it when he first got the lease signed, so he knows what it looks like when Edward has been going through rough shit and is trying to make it look like he hasn’t.

The living room will look pristine - it does now -, the door to the kitchen will be closed - it is - because that is where Edward will contain most of the mess - fast food wrappers and containers, beer cans, souring leftovers -, and he will spray air freshener because he is completely convinced it masks the smell of the weed - it doesn’t, Izzy can smell it now.

He comments on none of it, even as the concern festers.

Stede opens the door, but Izzy enters first, so he’s not expecting Edward to storm past him, a cloud of misery and rage that paces about the living room. Izzy hears the door close, feels Stede’s presence behind him, and waits.

“Jack fucking Rackham, seriously?!” Is the first thing Edward says, repulsed, and the rage, when it rises, is uncontrollable.

“Fuck you! Where do you get off saying anything to me about this shit when you were fucking Stede behind my back?!”

The fire dies out as quickly as it burns hot.

Instead, it leaves a chill behind.

A rotten silence.

Edward blinks at him, surprised, and Stede walks around him, moves to stand next to Edward, frowning. He looks at Izzy, at first confused, then with mounting realization, turning to Edward wide-eyed.

“You told me you talked to him!”

“I did!” Edward defends himself, as confused as Stede, and the rage simmers a little, gives a dying ember.

Why are they confused? Izzy’s the one that has the right to feel confused, not these assholes.

“Talked to me about what?” He asks, tone monotone. “What else did you fucking hide from me?”

Edward looks from one man to the other, turning defensive as he feels cornered.

“I talked to you about it!” He says to Izzy in an accusatory tone.

“About what, Edward?! I’d fucking remember if you told me you wanted to call whatever we had off to go after Stede.” Izzy accuses right back, refusing to take the blame for this.

Edward takes a step back and Stede rubs his temples - both of them baffled, shocked, and Izzy really isn’t understand shit of what’s happening right now.

“Edward, run by me, please, the conversation you had with Izzy.” Stede asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I told him, I told him that I wanted both of you.”

Izzy scowled. “No, you fucking didn’t.”

“I did!” Edward argues. “We were on the park. After Frenchie’s party.”

Izzy thinks back on it, on how absolutely wasted the two of them had gotten that night, and how Edward had mumbled, “You and Stede, you matter a lot to me.”

“You said we mattered a lot to you.” Izzy corrects him, “You said you didn’t know what you’d do without us. We were also fucking wasted out of our minds. Is that the fucking conversation you mean, Edward?”

Edward scratches his forehead. “Seriously? I- I didn’t, that’s all I said?”

“Yes, Edward!” Izzy screams, frustrated. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Stede sighs. “Let’s take a deep breath. Let’s sit down. There has clearly been a misunderstanding.” He glares at Edward, disappointment exuding from his very pores, and Izzy waits for no other word, stalking towards the couch - he helped Edward cart it up the stairs - and taking a seat, legs jostling as he digested his reality, the fucking frustration of it all.

“I thought - I really thought I’d said it.” Edward mutters, sitting down next to Izzy.

“We drank too much. We also ate some of Roach’s edibles. We were fucking gone, Edward.” Izzy mutters, rubbing at his mouth, realizing exactly the implications of it all. “You thought you had my permission to, what, fuck Stede?”

Edward nods. “I told Stede I was getting feelings for him. I also told him I was kind of in love with you and that we were together, so I told him that I needed to talk to you first. I needed to know where you stood. That I didn’t want to hurt you.” He explains, words coming out fast, as if he couldn’t get them out fast enough. Stede joins them, sits on the coffee table facing them, elbows on his thighs.

Izzy looks at him, gauging his reaction, and Stede nods.

“It’s true. Edward said the conversation went well, that you were okay with it, with all three of us together.” Stede says, “But clearly that’s now what happened.”

Izzy shakes his head. “No. That’s not what happened. I think I told him that you two are important to me too, I don’t remember saying much else.” He looks back to Edward, incredulous. “Seriously, Edward?”

“I’m sorry! I thought - I really thought we talked about it.” Edward rubs at his forehead, apologetic, his face falling as he said, “Oh fuck, that’s why you stopped talking to us after you saw us together. You - fuck - Iz, I’m so fucking sorry.”

That’s what does it.

Edward’s actual pain, his remorse, the way his entire face twists into devastation.

He didn’t mean to hurt him, and that alone feels transcendental, but he also finally recognizes that he did have reasons to be hurt, that Izzy’s pain isn’t him being a fucking idiot and overreacting.

He bursts into tears.

Pathetic.

But fuck does it feel good to finally let all of it out.

Stede bundles him into his arms, pressing quick little pecks into his face, and Edward holds them both, burying his nose in the nape of Izzy’s neck.

“Fuck, you mean it? You both want me?” Izzy sobs, both in awe and also relief.

There’s a chance - he’s wanted, actually wanted.

“We want you so much, sweetheart, and we’ve been hurting and confused too, unsure as to why you just stopped talking to us after, well,” Stede trails off, going red at the memory of Edward on his knees, of Izzy’s horrified expression, “you remember. We thought you changed your mind.”

Izzy glares at Edward over his shoulder, or tries to at least, but he keeps hiding his face between Izzy’s shoulder blades.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know.”

“You hurt me.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Iz. I don’t know what to say…” Edward sobs too, “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave us, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Perhaps we should try to get some sleep. This conversation may be best concluded with all of us one hundred percent sober and with a full night’s rest.” Stede, the voice of reason, says.

He’s right, he is, but Izzy feels like weeping even harder at the thought of going back home tonight.

“Can I stay?” Izzy asks, hesitant.

“Yes!”

“Of course, Israel!”

The relief is so strong, Izzy ends up in tears anyway.

What a fucking night…

Morning comes with headaches and a familiar bed.

Izzy wakes to limbs wrapped around him and the relief that it wasn’t all a dream carries him fully into the waking world.

Stede cooks pancakes as Edward and Izzy cry all over each other on the ratty old couch Izzy helped Ed pick.

It’s not perfect, it’s not even solved - they’re clearly going to have to have more conversations about this, Izzy has never dated two people at once, doesn’t even know what that entails, and boundaries clearly need to be set -, but Edward kisses him and Stede holds his hand, the apartment is a second home that welcomes him silently, and maybe for the first time in weeks, everything doesn’t feel like it’s falling apart around him.

For now, it’s enough.

For now, it’s just a new beginning.