Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izzy felt like something was wrong with his boss for a few months, he’d say years, but that was a different type of wrong. This kind was the one where his Captain was being fucking weird, weirder than his usual eccentric bullshit, this type of strangeness that infected him lately was a sickening boredom that had apparently sunk directly into Edward’s bones. He complained before that being a pirate was boring, they had the same fight almost daily, he almost entirely refused to want to live his life. That wasn’t new, but it was where the new stupidity came from.

“Being Blackbeard, mate, it’s fuckin’ boring. I’d do a lot for something new.” He said those exact words, almost daily when Izzy had to check in on him, usually starting a fight with Izzy when he’d retort with something sarcastic, or something downright aggravating, to force something, anything to change.

Izzy didn’t mind the fights, that was when they really talked, and he liked having that still. He just needed to avoid needing to resign and reclaim his own sanity on their ship, one way or another. There was plenty to do anyway. Boredom with life in general was for the very stupid. But still, he wanted to help, in his own way. Ed wasn’t exactly in favor of Izzy’s help, usually verbally and physically showing just how opposed he was, causing the fights.

After a while of that argument playing out the same way several times, Izzy finally got to say that he found something new, not raiding, or getting supplies, or anything else. He’d caught wind of some gentleman pirate and told Ed if they could manage to catch up to him, whatever the idiot was trying to do, they’d have something to do with him, whether it was taking his ship and taking him hostage, or just killing him. He didn’t mention his suggestions, he just said they could see what the hell his problem was and left it there. He’d add the suggestions to the conversation when it looked like a conversation again.

After he said that was when Ed’s eyes lit up for the first time in months, and it all really started.

The beginning of the end.

When Izzy heard he’d pissed off the Spanish, doing God knows what, he couldn’t hold back laughter as he shared the news with Ed, after complaining about that piece of shit to him several times, and Ed just said it was their chance, grinning at him, looking happier than he had in years.

“Our chance to see him dead, maybe, boss. Besides, we don’t have business with the Spanish, unless they have what we need, and we don’t need corpses.”

“Aw, c’mon, Izzy. Live a little. We can help him out, can’t we? Just once?” Ed gave Izzy a pathetic sad look, his fucking puppy-dog eyes. The last time it worked on Izzy was probably the last time their relationship as Captain and First Mate functioned. Longer than the last time that he looked happy. “It can’t be that bad, especially if he’s as pathetic as you keep saying he is.”

“Fucking worthless, boss,” he corrected, and added, because he wasn’t done, then or ever, “Give me that stupid look one more fucking time and I swear, I’ll—”

“Is that a yes?” His expression and tone shifted in an instant to the same fire that put the fear of Blackbeard in crew and enemy alike. He wasn’t kidding about wanting to try this, stupid as Izzy knew it was, hard as he tried to sour his opinions knowing full well he’d be immediately enamored with the Gentleman Pirate. As furious as Stede fucking Bonnet made him, of course it’d never go in his favor.

Izzy sighed. “Fuck. Fine. It’s your fault if we all get killed.” Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad, since he’d gotten Blackbeard back into his Captain, seemed like he had, anyway.

“Always is. That’s the fun part,” Ed replied sarcastically.

Around then was the actual beginning of the end of Izzy’s downright peaceful and normal daily life. He’d remember that night when he met the Gentleman Pirate, Bonnet as Izzy called him, Ed called him Stede, as one of his better ones, seeing that man stabbed and strangled half to death on the Spanish ship they “just so happened” to be raiding at the exact time that idiot was.  He would forever hold to the fact he thought Bonnet should be left to rot, but he wasn’t captain. He resented the decision daily. But that was life, and as he told Ed constantly, in life, you’re stuck with the hand you’re dealt, you miserable fuck.

Then, after some really idiotic happenstance, including some of Edward’s most impulsive and stupid plans to date, the crew of the Queen Anne’s Revenge boarded the Revenge, with her general ideas of excess and her idiot captain, charming as he was, oddly charming, at the same time, usually after that very intrusive thought not charming in the slightest. It started out being a hostile boarding, until the aforementioned (and completely nonexistent) charms kicked in and caused Izzy’s Captain to start to really like living alongside their prisoners.

There’d been strange shit all around, between that prick dragging Blackbeard to the depths and his habit of infecting almost everyone with a relaxed attitude that Izzy was positive would be their deaths. He was convinced that something bad would happen, particularly if no one sane was around. It had always been Izzy making sure no one died or starved themselves to death inadvertently. That was how it always was, to a lesser extent, but he was fine being busy enough to not think about how he felt about his new living arrangements. Fucking co-captains. There was no co-anything with pirates, the two of them couldn’t even understand that, apparently. He even took time alone to fume about it, no one missed having him around. The thinly veiled and very audible complaints about him were too obvious to ignore. He didn’t care about being liked by those idiots, though. He cared about Ed, and how this phase of his was going to get everyone killed.

To the minuscule sliver of credit Bonnet was due, he was not a good pirate, by any stretch of the definition. So, for a man who was never cut out for this shit, he was doing alright. For a terrible pirate, he was incredibly lucky. That being said, Izzy would happily stick around as long as he could stand it, until that absurd lucky streak ran out.

At least Ed liked him, despite what the relationship they had was doing to him, to Blackbeard, really. Bonnet probably couldn’t even tell what he was doing to him, between the way Ed smiled so much more often, how they were practically attached at the hip, and their new habit of eating breakfast together, practically daily. Hell, if Izzy didn’t know better, he’d say Ed was in love with that prick.

Oh.

Shit.

Fucking hell.

He was, wasn’t he? And Stede Bonnet had no idea, did he? He left them to their own devices about that one, like most everything else. He could afford to let the relationship end before it could start. Ed never had it in him for long term anything before, so it was bound to be over sooner than later, once Bonnet got bored again. Izzy would help pick up the pieces then, only insisting he was right all along when necessary. That wouldn’t change, he was sure of it.

He should’ve known he would be wrong. He was always wrong when it came to anything regarding Bonnet. He should’ve known nothing would ever change in his favor, either, and that Ed could and would change readily without his help, because as it turned out, both of those things were true.

They ended up dating, far as Izzy could figure, with the disgusting romantic bullshit brewing between them. Then it got worse. His Captain, the man he served, someone that he thought he knew better than anyone could hope to know, had suddenly taken quite the liking to actually eating.

This enraged Izzy to no end, of course, because that meant he would continue to lose his purpose in small parts daily. It used to be his job to make sure he was content, which used to include fed. Then there was the upsetting side effect that he had to deal with, the new questions of why the fuck he wasn’t good enough anymore, why it wasn’t him getting Edward to fucking eat, why it was this new bastard’s job to do that, and why he’d eat so goddamn willingly for him. Most damming of all: why wasn’t Izzy good enough for him?

Apparently, he just wasn’t a blond, middle-aged idiot, because that relationship between them was the beginning of a gradual but very visible process that he noticed on Ed from then on. Eating like that, apparently more than before, had physical consequences. Just a bit of new softness that wasn’t there before, and unimportant but still upsetting, a pair of seemingly interested hands that weren't there before either, that were holding his captain, like he had the right.

Co-captains his ass. There was no co anything on a good pirate ship of real pirates and not a rich bastard who wanted to play pirates until he got bored. He refused to be part of it, instead he watched from the outside, and seethed. It’d fizzle out in days. It was how it always went; he was still so sure of it.

Then a few weeks passed, and nothing fizzled out or went away, including the softness. He kept looking at Ed, his Ed, but that wasn’t ever true, honestly. Why he ever thought it was, or could be, he must’ve been deluded as all hell. The softness that had stuck to him, it welled over the sides of his pants, which were getting even tighter than normal. Hell, his jacket looked tighter too. What the hell was that prick doing with Blackbeard?

Izzy’d ask Ed what was happening, he really would. Except all he’d get in return was questions for Izzy, asking why he was interested, why he obviously had watched, like he was documenting the daily life of who was likely to have been history’s greatest pirate, how he was getting weak and soft, because of this fucking unknown loser, who he’d probably call his boyfriend, with that stupid, mushy, romantic look on his face. Izzy didn’t really need to ask his captain why he looked ever so slightly pudgier lately. That was because he knew why it was happening, why it all bothered him, because he’d struggled to get him to eat when he was in his moods, and this Stede fucking Bonnet, it took nothing from him to get Ed to eat, and clearly plenty. It also wasn’t about the way he looked. The issue lied entirely with the stupid fuck who'd apparently solved his misgivings about eating.

He saw how Bonnet tended to touch his captain, the places his hands lingered, he didn’t seem to have any particular favorites, but in watching, and wishing he weren’t, he noticed a few spots those hands of his —probably very soft hands, not that Izzy cared to know— ended up far more often. It was predominantly the softer spots at his hips, the softness that appeared more prominently over his stomach, and the most horrific, the protective hand that occasionally made its way to his hip, that held him close. He hated how he wanted to catch a glimpse of Ed, hated how desperate it made him feel. Still, he couldn’t help himself.

Further weeks passed as Izzy lost the dregs of hope he’d had that normal anything could ever happen to men like him. He kept one small scrap of his dignity intact, although he was losing his grip on it by the day, if not by the hour. The softness continued to show on Ed’s body, like it had always been there, like he was always capable of gaining weight and eating enough food.

Then his jacket was worn open, and the button on his pants was undone permanently, and not by accident, or after meals. The morning Izzy first saw him, looking goddamn half dressed, he’d gone red, just looking him up and down. He wanted it to be in frustration, in anger. It wasn’t. He was furious, yeah, because he looked like he’d just tugged his clothes back on after fucking, and that looked idiotic. Also, Izzy hated thinking about what they did behind closed doors.

He was originally horrified and thought that was the end for his captain, that he’d lost it finally, and lacked all remaining decorum. Then he saw just how far the button was from the buttonhole, and that was when he’d gone very red and had to hurry off somewhere alone, to forget any of that happened. He didn’t say a single word to him about it, like everything else, but knew for damn sure he had to have seen his face before he turned and left.

It was obvious, though, just looking at him, that there was a simple explanation for why he looked that way. He’d gotten to the point that he looked chubby, his belly visible under his shirt, pressing just over the waistband of his pants, which dug into that softness quite a bit.  Regardless of the apparent irritation with the sudden state of mild undress his boss was in, in front of the others, no less, he appreciated how he’d finally figured out a way to fucking eat enough for multiple weeks in a row, for the first time in a while. That was nice, at least. Ed would still definitely have to sort out new pants, sooner than later.

Izzy’d be remiss to not mention it, at least in passing, but he didn’t really want to, he didn’t want to admit to watching it all happen, and how he’d never commented before it got so obvious. So, he didn’t say a word to him about anything but business. The worst part about that was Ed couldn’t tell he was suddenly forcing any distance, or notice he was watching him go from slightly pudgy, to chubby, to nearing fat. If he could tell, he was getting good at ignoring Izzy completely. The worst part about how clearly Ed didn’t care was that he wasn’t angry, not even furious, he was just unsettled in his core about being left behind.

He dealt with his emotions about this collection of major and minor adjustments the usual way. That was to say, by not dealing with them at all. If anyone asked him a goddamn thing about Blackbeard, usually his whereabouts, he’d just make a snappish remark about how it wasn’t his fucking job to manage his Captain, and what did he look like his fucking keeper. Because it wasn’t, anymore, and he wasn’t, anymore. And that was… fine. Just fucking fine. They stopped asking him after a week. Only took a week for them to learn that asking questions about topics Izzy hated meant they’d get grabbed by the shirt if they got too close to him and yelled at, which they unsurprisingly didn’t enjoy. If only they’d learn anything else that fast. At least they mostly avoided him.

Izzy also coped with the new and typical stresses of his day-to-day life the other usual way, his other usual way anyway, which was to eat a little less, drink a little more, and shut himself away from everyone just a few more times a day, usually after saying something about how he was doing something important for their jobs, as if they understood that type of fucking duty, alone, and to leave him that way until he was on the deck again, and to get the Captain (singular, as it should be) and not Izzy if anything happened that needed attention. He never specified which captain, out of spite, but hoped to any God that would listen to him that they’d just pick Blackbeard, even at random, (if they’d just pick the competent lovesick idiot…) if there were any literal or metaphorical fires to put out. He had to fucking specify the metaphorical part when the speech once required an example, and the most pressing emergency example Izzy had was fire, after considering the many benefits and drawbacks of arson in the middle of the sea for too many hours in a row, after one of those idiots, he didn’t care which one, especially not when he was angry with them as a collective, gleefully fucking asked him to specify the second time he used the exact excuse to get away from everyone.

Izzy hated his new life aboard the Revenge. 

Because of that deep overwhelming sense of hatred that steeped in his bones and in his blood lately, he found a great new coping mechanism in his terrible new life: trying to come up with the fresh murder plot of the week or month, depending on his mood, for the all too timely demise of Bonnet, which to Izzy’s discredit, never worked. The ways he tried to get Bonnet killed were generally unsuccessful whether they were planned or not, but fantasizing about anything made the time pass less miserably, and thinking about his dead body made him feel better. He found a new least favorite thing about Bonnet nearly daily, and the way brushes with death both didn’t faze him and how every time he somehow avoided it by a hair's breadth were both high on the list of his worst traits.

The worst by far was the way he endeared himself to Edward, though. He could come to that conclusion a hundred times and know it’d never change.

Then more time passed, weeks falling into months. The softening of Blackbeard just kept happening. For the sake of probably just Bonnet’s sanity, knowing his boss, Ed finally gave up on squeezing his way into his old pants, a week too late, but still. Thank fuck. He was probably going to rip them if he kept wearing them, which may have happened, although if it did, it was in private, thankfully. Whatever started the shift, he, by that point, had taken to wearing pants that originally belonged to his stupid fucking boyfriend. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on your opinion, and Izzy was evenly split between the two, they were still fairly fitted to his thighs, a lot like his old leather, showing off how those thighs were not spared from the general weight his body had taken on. The pants looked soft, and comfortable, like the rest of his body, and served as yet another reminder that Ed was changing on him, and all because of the damned gentleman pirate.

Shortly after his pants became utterly unwearable, his jacket was done away with, as if it served any purpose at that point, worn exclusively open like it was, as if it was ever truly practical, he’d outgrown it regardless. Izzy had noticed then that his shirts looked like they were his usual ones, soon to be old as his brain frequently supplied, but significantly tighter, and almost twice as revealing as they used to be. They’d gone from being just short enough to reveal just a sliver of his midsection if he was standing just right, to revealing a lot more. If no one figured out that Blackbeard was getting awfully fat suddenly, they’d have to know by then. Izzy had known for months, gritting his teeth, trying to ignore it, as it became more obvious day by day, into weeks, and then all at once when he couldn’t just pretend he was seeing things.

Honestly, in thoughts he’d never admit to having, Izzy wanted to sink his hands… and maybe his teeth, into that section of skin he could see just barely from under his over-tight shirts and just above and pushing slightly over the waistband of his pants. He just looked so goddamn soft, he wanted to get a hand on him, be able to touch him, without having to work through or within their fractured relationship of decades-ago shattered boundaries, not feel the need to comment on his body in a shitty way to get the talk started, or out of a sense of duty to his Captain, and note that his body was seemingly changing without his notice, as if he minded at all in reality, especially like it had as of late, as if he didn’t know, because if he didn’t, he’d have to by the time he had to find new pants, whatever situation led to that happening.

Even then, he’d recently fallen off on his “job”, not like Edward really needed help noticing, since he had to know his clothes got that tight somehow, the different pants and lack of jacket settled that potential issue by themselves. Plus, his boss wasn’t ever that stupid. It was easier to bring it up before, though, in a different direction, reminding his Captain to eat something almost every day, bringing him food when he was particularly moody with hunger, refusing to leave his quarters, sometimes even his bed, rather than watching him so clearly remember the existence of food without help, when he was also seeing someone else. It didn’t make him want to touch him any less, though, because he didn’t look awful like that, even if he had to almost literally bite his tongue to keep himself in check about his boss.

There was definitely something going on between the pair of them, a something that made Izzy’s blood start to boil when he got close to thinking about it. He didn’t want to consider whatever sicknesses were plaguing either of their brains, so he didn’t. He figured that Bonnet just was too damn polite to ever mention his clothes were still mostly ill-fitting, like Izzy was, except Izzy couldn’t be bothered to willingly think about it longer than he ever had to. Really, he’d seen better, and worse men fall to better and worse vices.

Besides, technically, to their collective discredit, his shirts still fit. Slipped up constantly and considerably further than they used to, but they fit him. His pants and jacket were done away with already, so his shirts were the remaining connection to who he used to be, what he used to look like. It wasn’t Izzy’s damn business anyway. He’d happily leave the talk about Ed getting downright fat to Bonnet. Clearly Edward liked him better, may listen to his reasoning, and Izzy had better things to do, like being the only competent adult on their ship left who understood the dangers inherent to piracy, like getting murdered, or executed.

Izzy honestly didn’t care about it anymore.

It still upset him, on some level, not because he felt any sense of lingering duty, all that dissolved in the months he’d survived among the lot of them. It wasn’t that he hated how Ed looked, either, because he didn’t.

He was upset, maybe a bit jealous, because Ed carried the new weight with something like joy, smiling more often than he’d ever seen, and he looked good, happier than he’d ever been, not since he met Izzy. The issue was that he couldn’t have done that for or even with Izzy, although that was when he’d threatened force-feeding him, remembering the skinny kid he’d been well over a decade ago. They had the food then, too, maybe less good, but you don’t get good food often, that’s why you enjoyed it when you did. That thought probably explained exactly what started everything with Ed, the sheer amount of excess food that was actually good, which made Izzy feel even less needed. Stede took over for him, effortless, like he wasn’t ever needed as his boss’ right hand. It felt horrible.

All that being said, Izzy had his own separate philosophy for himself from what he thought Ed should do about food. Izzy refused most of the nicer food they had on this new ship when it was offered to him, for dinner and when he angrily lingered near the kitchen, wishing everyone else had his thoughts on getting anything done, and apparently looked hungry. He always said that he’d hate it if he tried it, mainly because he’d eaten worse things before, and liked it, devoured hard tack like it was anything nearing edible multiple times in his life. That meant good food was unnecessary for survival, and Izzy didn’t want it.

…When it was offered as dinner, and he wasn’t completely miserable, that was. He’d taken to a new habit of getting a substantial amount of leftover food and glutting himself off it every few days when no one could notice him, when the misery and hunger became too all-consuming to bear.  He’d all but drowned himself in his self-loathing after he was done, full to the brim, looking it too, but he didn’t really notice enough to care by the end of it.

Those were always the particularly horrible nights he had when he’d earlier unwillingly put together an especially vivid mental timeline of what that bastard Bonnet had done to the man he admired so much, and realized so deeply that his chest ached that he wished he hated what happened. He hated the relationship, hated how it was his fault it happened, didn’t want to think about what his own future would hold, how he’d be discarded soon enough, once they realized he was utterly useless to them, how he just wanted to be done with his life and everything else for long enough that it could just be fucking normal again. He didn’t want to die, nothing like that, so he didn’t think about the impending doom of his present lifestyle, or where normal life would lead him, which both carried him to the same bleak end, dead in a gutter, or dead in the sea. The sea was warmer, by a little, seemingly, so he had one preference, if and when the thinking got to that point, so he didn’t want to quit, either. He’d lost his social graces, like he had any to begin with, to the sea anyway, it wasn’t like anyone else would take an old, worthless fucking sap like him anywhere else, anyway. He may as well die alongside these fucking idiots, if he’d get the choice.

Usually, instead of thinking that much about it, he ate. Not too often, of course. He’d end up like Bonnet or Edward if he did that and that would be a fate even worse than death, as far as he thought about it. The hunger would threaten to consume his insides for sustenance when he’d finally give in, his stomach loudly and sometimes painfully protesting that no, half a piece of stale bread last night so he could sleep sort of peacefully was not dinner, and coffee, tea, or alcohol on an otherwise empty stomach was absolutely not breakfast or lunch, you fucking idiot. That point was when he took to the leftovers like a man quite literally starved.

Those habits of his were, brutally honestly, probably why Ed didn’t like him very much. He’d so quickly give up on his own safety to pine like a poorly adjusted teenager, eating food best eaten warm. He’d outgrown the need for stupid, childish behavior more than a few times over, but it stuck to him anyway, much like the softness on Blackbeard’s belly, his brain reminded him, unhelpfully, as it was still there, like Izzy’s ever-present misery. The softness that half-caused the spiral, that in turn caused the binge. He soon found that eating enough that he couldn’t fully remember why he was upset worked wonders on his mental state.

Talk nothing through to anyone. Ever. That was the real saying to force memorization of. It didn’t rhyme, which made it better, less childishly complicated, and less emotionally taxing.

Besides, dealing with problems alone suited Izzy just fine, eating the leftovers even killed two birds with one stone. He hated the excess, and the poor planning just as much as he hated thinking about his misery and its causes. Though conveniently, no one had to think about the leftover food if there wasn’t all that much food left over after he forced it down his throat. No one had to deal with a goddamn thing if Izzy dealt with all of it on his own, and that was perfect. He wouldn’t need help that way.

Sometimes, though, in fits of fullness-fueled stupidity and mildly painless thinking, he considered, sometimes, in strictly vague imagery, because it wasn’t his place to think about it, what it’d be like to get Ed to eat that much, to turn the tables on him again, with as much as he found that he enjoyed being that full himself. With as much weight as Ed gained, he’d have to have a hell of a capacity. He’d have to, and as quickly as it happened, someone had to feed him pretty well. Although, it wasn’t his space to speculate, especially when it made him frustrated and upset, and he preferred shoving food in his own mouth to thinking about how nicely his Captain could round out with fullness, similarly to how his own body would. It was too distracting, and slowed him down, which gave him time to think, which meant he thought about everything he wanted to avoid thinking about in the first place. Also, unlike the rest of the idiot pirates on the Revenge, both captains included most days, he was still good at what he did, and remembered what it was like to fear for your life out on the sea, and that getting distracted could mean death or other danger.

In this case, it would mean getting caught if he didn’t keep quiet. He had fail safes for this, obviously. He did it only at night, and did it just infrequently enough that his body would remember that hunger was vital and getting that much food wasn’t supposed to be a daily thing, it wouldn’t be a distraction from his misery if it was. Plus, his mind fogged over with hunger and fullness alike, that was why the cycle worked out in his favor so well. Also, it made him damn near impossible to keep track of, which made this habit hard to find out about, unless suddenly someone took note of excess supplies disappearing overnight, which with the amount of sheer incompetence on the Revenge, was almost impossible.

He didn’t want anyone to figure out what was happening, anyway, mostly the fact it intertwined with his emotional state so utterly it was embarrassing. He didn’t care if anyone found out that he was causing the random disappearances of food, since he could lie about it well enough to cover his habit up, just saying he was eating a late dinner or skipped lunch one day, it was why he was doing it that would garner pity, and God knows the nosy fucks would ask. He already even knew what they’d say about him. Oh, the poor, slighted thing, too pathetic to admit to having a crush on his captain, to being in love with him, especially when he was dating someone else, in love with someone else.

If there was anything Izzy hated more than the idea of Stede, it was getting pitied, being told he was a poor thing because he fucked up his chances permanently months ago.

He hated thinking about it, that was why he went to the kitchen at night when he did, to be completely alone for the hours he could, and stop thinking so goddamn much about his problems.

He loved having quiet time to himself where he didn’t need to think past shoving food in his mouth. It was late, everyone was asleep, he wandered around and pretended he was just on a walk to make sure of that. He just couldn’t shake the idea he was being watched, maybe followed too. There wasn’t a way it could have happened, probably. Although just being sort of sure didn’t keep him from getting caught, but really, no one should have been following him, he out-threatened anyone who’d fuck with him, more or less. Or at least stayed up late enough anyone normal would be sleeping. Really, anyone with any sense wouldn’t be out that goddamn late, himself included. He was sure of it.

***

Stede never planned to ruin Izzy’s perfectly fine evening alone. Come to think of it, he hadn’t meant to ruin Izzy’s life in general, either, and he’d hold to both those things being true to Izzy and Ed if and when they asked what happened later.

All he wanted to do was to figure out why he was so damn cagey. Ed said he was always like that, but he also knew from multiple stories that Ed was quite a different man some years ago, as Blackbeard, so Izzy had to have some hope of becoming slightly less cagey. Anyone could change, he was pretty sure, and Stede wanted to help him out, if he could.

He tried helping every member of his crew if he could, and Izzy’s case was fairly mild, as far as it seemed. Just some possibly unrequited feelings for Ed that Ed had more or less no idea existed at all, until Stede mentioned it in the form of a question, which Ed denied fully, and a bit of resentment— maybe a lot of resentment, probably a great deal of resentment, but he could help with at least some of those things, even if Stede seemed to have caused all of his problems in direct and indirect ways. He’d figure that out when he got there. He had a plan.

He would have to admit to sneaking out of their quarters while Ed was asleep, yes, but honestly, he had good intentions, he didn’t want him to worry and not get any sleep or go after Izzy if anything happened. Ed already knew he’d been wanting to talk to him, sort out their differences, whatever that meant for the two of them, he was okay with that, wanted them to do it if it’d help their lives continue as they wanted, he just would’ve preferred to be awake to make sure no one died or was killed during their talk. Stede mainly trusted Izzy because Ed did, he had a little too much faith in his boyfriend— as said boyfriend told him, several times, lovingly but concernedly. Stede still held firm it would go well, and he’d prepared accordingly. They discussed the opportunity of them possibly bringing him into a relationship, since the wanting glances generally aimed at Ed were not… platonic looks, in the slightest, far as Stede could figure. Ed thought it would be damn near impossible, since again, Izzy hated Stede, much as he hated anyone, but always conceded that if anyone could get him to talk and be perceptive to considering a relationship, it’d be Stede.

He knew, eventually, after enough mild and very infrequent periods of observation, that Izzy sometimes took walks at night.

Stede wasn’t much for being anything but obnoxious and loud, as Izzy told him, quite grouchily, on a nearly daily basis along with several other complaints about him. Nevertheless, he knew he had an idea of what to do about their first mate, so he followed him at a decent distance, watching him, and as he followed closer, he did manage to accidentally sneak up directly behind Izzy without him noticing, and…

Stede scared a very prickly, seasoned pirate who definitely had a weapon on him and was very ready to kill anyone at any time, particularly someone who scared him.

Oops.

That was very high on the list of Stede’s worst moves and decisions. He quickly stepped back, to get out of direct stabbing range and try to not make it worse. He wasn’t very good at not making things worse, as most people told him, Izzy included, so he didn’t have the highest hopes one could have.

This wasn’t what either of them planned to do at any point.

Izzy knew sane men would apologize quickly, not say another word, turn around, and leave, but Stede Bonnet? Izzy would agree heartily with the fact he was not a sane man.

In fact, Stede was still hellbent on making Izzy comfortable around him, so he quickly tried to come up with something to say that wouldn’t upset him. Hopefully it wouldn't upset him, at least, but Izzy was Izzy, as Ed said fairly often, usually very exasperatedly.

It was silent, so he did get time to think in the seconds as Izzy was figuring out what to do with the situation.

After Izzy turned around, irritated, and slightly surprised, although he’d never admit to it, he had to think some things through, like how he didn’t hear Bonnet behind him, because truly, out of all the people who could have found him—

His scattered thoughts were cut off by more irritation.

“Hello, Izzy! Awfully late for a walk, isn’t it?”

That was what Stede had come up with. Not great, but also not “oh God don’t kill me please Izzy, I’m sorry,” which would have gotten him killed without question or hesitation. So, it was middling, somehow.

Izzy had about thirty seconds to consider his choices that led to that moment and come up with a suitable lie, so he did, gladly.  Bonnet is the worst option. Anyone else would’ve been better, even that goddamn tart that takes after him so much. Spriggs would’ve been better. That’s how bad this is about to go if I don’t get out of whatever’s coming from him. I need an excuse, anything. Just a way out. 

“I wasn’t—” he blurted out, then clamped his mouth shut to come up with something better to say in defense of himself. He wasn’t stealing food, which was almost his excuse. He also wasn’t on a walk, either, though, both lies shot to hell before he could spit them out. He still needed time to think of something better to say. Clearly. Blood rushed to his face immediately after he spoke. Damn it. He hoped Stede didn’t notice, he wasn’t perceptive enough to notice Izzy wanted to be alone, he could conveniently not notice his face turn red. Then, he realized he was still holding food, an entire minute too late, and shoved his hands behind his back. It was too late when he opened his mouth, and Bonnet was absolutely going to call him on his bullshit.

He was so fucked. He couldn’t think of anything.

Unluckily, Bonnet came out with an answer first, words tumbling out of his mouth like he thought Izzy was going to kill him, which he could’ve.

“I was just out on a walk, getting some air, I happened to see you, and I thought I should let you know you don’t have to go out on patrol at night, you can sleep, in case you weren’t aware of that. I also didn’t mean to scare you, if I did scare you.” He shifted to a conversational tone, slowing down a little, remembering half of his originally planned conversation, noting the way Izzy was poorly trying to hide something. He knew something was up with him! He was right! He’d tell Ed that later, assuming his First Mate wouldn’t still lash out at him and leave him unconscious on the floor, or worse than just unconscious.

Izzy’s face twisted in confusion for just an instant, then he forced it down. “Sure. A walk.” The timely lie could come from him, that’d work. Anything could work, this could be over in the next ten minutes, if they were lucky.

“Were you not out on patrol, or whatever else it is you very stubborn pirates do?”

He should’ve known better, he wasn’t lucky. If he was, this wouldn’t have happened. This would instead take a really long time; he felt cold dread in his bones. “Fuck off, Bonnet,” he spat. “Why do you think I’m here?”

Stede shrugged. “I don’t know, we’re in the kitchen, so, I’d assume maybe getting some food? Although, you don’t seem like the type to go for a midnight snack.”

He was exactly as stupid as Izzy knew he was. He’d be impressed if he weren’t so annoyed. The idiot couldn’t even tell what he was doing. He almost wanted to keep fucking with him, but he couldn’t, since he had business to attend to, and he wanted to be alone to do it. “Because I’m not, I’m perfectly fine, so you can go to bed.”

Stede wasn’t stupid. He was confused, still, since Ed hadn’t said anything about having issues with food theft before, especially not from Izzy. He wasn’t exactly hiding the stolen goods very well. Since it wasn’t normal, something really was up with him, and he’d find out what, even if it meant a particularly clumsy conversation with his first mate, or Ed’s first mate, whatever technical title fit him, as if he’d allow Stede to be his boss. “And your hands are behind your back… because?”

“Go away.”

“Not before you start answering me.”

“What is your problem?” Izzy spat, hoping for a real answer.

“According to who specifically?” he asked, feigning a disinterested look, knowing he’d catch Izzy somehow, and letting him think he was going to win the conversation was absolutely a start. Everyone eventually learned there are no winners in polite conversation, and tonight would be a fine time to teach Izzy that and then why he suddenly thought he had to steal food and then hide the fact he was taking it.

Izzy smiled, baring his teeth at Stede. “Honestly? Anyone. Hell, I can just tell you myself, if that’s what you really came to me for.” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, despite the silence. “You’re too damn nosy, for one. You never know when to leave a room, you’re—”

“That’s enough, Izzy. I know you hate me.”

“So, you’ll leave.” Hope flickered in his chest, just for an instant, as Bonnet frowned, it fizzled out as soon as it came.

“No. Not yet at least. What were you hiding behind your back? You don’t have to be embarrassed; I’ve seen more embarrassing things than whatever you’re so convinced you’re hiding from me.”

“Get fucked,” he said, finally revealing what was originally going to be a substantial amount of food that was going to mysteriously and silently disappear into his quarters but was currently most of a loaf of bread and a jar of jam. Bonnet already saw, probably could figure out what he was planning on doing with it. The stupid fucker wasn’t that clueless.

“Hunger is not a crime,” Stede chided in the exact way Izzy knew he would.

“Piracy is, and I’ve gotten away with it for years, I don’t give a shit about crime. Besides that, I don’t care what you think of me,” Izzy argued. He did figure the food part out, his brain supplied hopelessly.

“But I recall you care a great deal what Ed— “

“Blackbeard,” Izzy corrected in a low growl. He’ll correct that habit in him someday, regardless of what his boss thought he should call him. Izzy should be the only one to get the privilege, not some idiot he just met, some months ago, but still, not years, decades of devoted work beside him. To Stede Bonnet, his name should be Blackbeard. No matter the fucking relationship between them.

“What Ed thinks of you,” he finished, unfazed and ignoring the correction entirely, which made Izzy growl frustratedly. “And he’d prefer you eat. Now, why would you try hiding that you were hungry, and so late in the evening?”

Izzy could easily ignore him right back, because he knew exactly who was trying to catch him doing this, and his boss was more direct than this. Only one person who thought he had the same level of respect would even think of bothering him, and it definitely wasn’t Ed, so he still wasn’t going to be nice. “I was getting food. You know now, so you can leave.”

“I don’t think I will. I think someone may need to learn a very important lesson on exactly how welcome he is to whatever food he likes, whenever he’d like it, without being ashamed of himself when he happens to get caught when he’s sneaking around like a thief.”

Izzy, at that moment, desperately wished looks could kill. Although, if they did, Bonnet would’ve dropped dead months ago, instead of just then, when the furious glare he was pinning his Captain (by title only) with should’ve been fucking lethal. As if intent to kill ever hurt Stede in a permanent way, though. He was convinced that man was unkillable, by intent, accident, or glare.

“I’m still your captain,” Stede warned. “You don’t have to look so angry, regardless. Listen, how about a deal? I can be nice, in case that escaped your notice. I can stay with you, but if you think I’m pushing you too much, just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone to eat your dinner.”

“I never said—" he started, once again fumbling for any kind of excuse. As he was trying to find it, his stomach growled, reminding him he was really going for what could be considered dinner, a very late dinner, but dinner, nonetheless. Damn it, he was hungry, hadn’t really eaten all day, he’d made several shitty and impulsive decisions that led to that happening, and he was about to make just one more, assuming he’d never come up with a good enough excuse for the nosiest person he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Of course, Bonnet pounced on the sign of weakness, going after him again. The look on his face was damning, and distracting, he looked genuinely disappointed in his behavior, with his arms crossed.

“Is it a deal, Mr. Hands?” Stede asked in a low voice, letting each word sink into Izzy’s head.

Izzy felt his heart rate quicken, just for an instant, it was just a slight boost of adrenaline, must’ve been. Either way, he didn’t exactly have a choice. “Fine. It’s a deal.” There it was, the inevitable last decision, he saw it coming a mile away, he hated that prick, and he fucking agreed to more pointless conversation.

“Thank you. Now, why won’t you just eat dinner at a normal hour?”

“I never said I didn’t eat dinner.”

Stede was staring hard at him. It occurred to Izzy that, in the most insulting way possible, he looked nice. For a man who should be asleep next to someone he’d rather not think about anyone sleeping next to, he was noticeably pretty. It had to be insulting, because he’d never noticed when any man had been pretty before, dangerous, sure, deadly, absolutely, fuckable, yeah, once or twice, although his tastes involved more specific men, particularly lately. Never pretty, though, it was utterly too specific and weak, that was why it fit him, he was weak. Problem fucking solved.

“I don’t believe you for an instant, you know.” Bonnet finally said, waiting for him to incriminate himself.

“Why do you even care?”

“Call it curiosity. Why starve?”

“I never said I was starving.”

“I never see you eat much of anything, it was the one thought anyone has if that’s the case.”

“Nosy bastard.”

He tipped his head to one side for an instant, considering it and coming to a conclusion. “Hm. Harsh, but deserved, I’m sure. So, if you’re not starving, and you’re getting dinner somehow when I don’t notice, what were you doing here?”

“Watch your own back and not mine.”

“If you’d answer my questions, even just a little, I’d stop asking.”

“You don’t care about what I do or don’t do. This is him putting you up to it, a new way to fuckin’ torture me.”

“You’re a very capable first mate, as he’s told me, I know. I just saw you walking around and decided to capitalize on the opportunity to talk to you, and you seem hungry. He didn’t tell me to do any part of this, it’s entirely my idea. Ed’s sleeping right now, if you were curious.”

He ignored the compliment and comment entirely. Although he was curious, that just made it sting that much more. Izzy had woken him up multiple times, started an argument just walking across the goddamn floor in the middle of the night, sleeping across the room from him. Later they had different arguments about his behavior issues when Izzy came barging into his quarters when he was still sleeping in the middle of the day and in a bad mood. What did Bonnet have that he didn’t? “He’s a light sleeper. How did you manage that?”

Stede smiled, then the look faded to the old stern expression. “I snuck up on you. I can be careful. However, you can’t dodge the question forever, and you’ll be eating more than just that bread. Bread is not dinner.”

“You are just barely my boss,” Izzy muttered, utterly hopeless.

“I’m in charge of you enough to say that I can be just as stubborn as you’re being. Besides, you can kick me out if you’re so convinced you’ll eat something substantial. Or you could leave, although I’d be happy to stay here until your stomach growled so loudly you had to come back.”

“You’re impossible to deal with. You forgot that if I kick you out, you won’t get to irritate me, that’d be pitiful for you to have to live with.”

Stede gave him a look of mock pity. “Wouldn’t it? So, what leftovers were you after?” He looked at Izzy, who glared at him. “My choice then. Not answering is just as bad as refusing to answer, you know.”

“What is wrong with your fucking brain?” Izzy asked, fruitlessly hoping he’d get an answer he wanted to hear.

“Nothing that I’m aware of, although some specific people beg to differ, you included.”

“I’m in such great company,” he muttered, and slumped into a chair, still watching Stede warily. He’d never win with this prick, he just wouldn’t. That man won by sheer willpower, and Izzy lost most of his own willpower years ago.

“I wouldn’t say that, I’ve got my fair share of enemies.”

“No, you don’t. Enemies are the people who want you dead, and would celebrate your death, you don’t have nearly enough of those.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“You aren’t dead yet, despite the universe’s best attempts,” Izzy answered. He’d helped cause half of those attempts by then, and goddamn none of them worked. Not even trying to turn his boss against him, before they even met each other. He hated himself for that one going awry.

“I’ve gotten lucky, I can’t argue with that. Here.”

He set down a plate and a bowl in front of Izzy. The bowl had some kind of stew made of whatever ungodly odds and ends that would’ve been much more edible warm, a bit more bread and some meat on the plate, various leftovers from dinner, no doubt, and what he'd eat regardless.

“Luck is something an idiot made up a long time ago, you’re just too stupid to die properly.”

“Harsh, but fair.”

“How the hell is that fair to you?”

“You should know the answer to that one, Izzy.”

He knew why he hated Bonnet, but he couldn’t be self-aware to that degree. “Why? I asked you.”

“I don’t know how you haven’t noticed. You are aware of the whole… co-captain… thing, right?” He waved a hand indistinctly, like that was what could explain the nuances of dating someone’s pathetic, years-long crush.

“I’ve heard,” he answered, teeth gritted, refusing to clarify for the prick. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“A lot. Recently I've become very aware of your… predicament. You very obviously had feelings for him before he and I met. Those feelings haven’t exactly gone unnoticed and very obviously haven’t gone away.”

“And?” He was almost shaking with anger; he hid his clenched fists under the table. He knew he could easily end this, by killing him or by just fucking asking him to go. He hated the situation just enough to consider it just long enough that he decided on a better solution than to leave a hell of a mess behind, or letting it continue on about how Izzy was anyone’s poor thing. “What is your point?” He barely managed to spit out. He just had to make him explain himself so he’d shut up, and then he could show him just how little he needed to fuss over him.

“My point is, I understand exactly why you hate my guts, and it is warranted, to a degree, but,” he punctuated it with a genuinely sympathetic look, which only made Izzy angrier, and continued, “I can still want to help you, or at least know you’re not forcing yourself to be hungry, or that you have to hide or sneak around just to feel safe enough to eat.”

“And it’s your business how?”

“Despite your complaints and best attempts, I’m still your Captain,” he answered simply. “See how easy it is to answer an honest question directly?”

“Not if you’re prying into my personal life,” Izzy grumbled.

“Because sneaking around is a healthy and productive behavior in one’s personal life,” Stede shot back.

“I never said it was, I said it wasn’t your business.”

“You’ll find I make most things my business when it pertains to the well-being of my crew.”

“Fuck you. Do I have to finish all this?”

“I won’t force you.”

He had to look up to scowl at him properly, he realized. “At least sit down and try to be normal.”

“I was about to ask if you wanted me to stay, I’ll take that as permission.”

“Don’t. I still reserve the fucking right to make you get out, you just look stupid standing there like a kicked dog.”

Bonnet didn’t take an ounce of offense at being insulted, which was horrific, truly, and made an excellent example for the exact reason why he disliked the man sitting next to him. He was incredibly dense and didn’t take no for an answer.

But Izzy had a plan for him, a half-baked plan, but it would probably work out in his favor, or get Bonnet to annoy him less, if he ever did again. If it didn’t work, maybe he’d get him to learn to leave things alone when there was no reason to pry.

He knew how he looked after eating that much, rounded out with overfullness. If he could still think after eating that much, he’d find himself repulsive. He’d agree with that thought if he were Bonnet. It wouldn’t even be that hard to pull off. It’d be doing what he usually did, but with unwelcome company. He’d always end up glutting himself so utterly that he felt sick when he was done. That outcome would disgust anyone, not to mention Bonnet, no one could possibly want to even look at him after that.

If it worked, he’d never get annoyed by Bonnet again. That was enough of a benefit for him to try to make himself look absolutely disgusting to the man who called himself his boss. His actual boss knew he was a freak of nature already, told him as much a few times. He didn’t think about ways it could backfire, he’d had enough of that to last him the rest of his miserable life in just the months the pair had been dating.

Since he had an idea of how to end it quickly, he started executing his plan. He shoveled stew in his mouth, feeling the thick liquid from it slowly drip onto his lips as he wiped it off with the back of his hand. He was going to give him what he wanted, since he was willingly eating. It was what he did every time he saw too much of his stupid face during the day, when hunger clawed its way through his insides as furiously as jealousy, after all.

Stede was watching him, unfazed. “Hungry, aren’t you?”

“The fuck do you care?”

“For all intents and purposes, I don’t, but you are devouring that like it’s warm, and I know it can’t be by now.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Don’t attack your food, and I won’t notice.”

Izzy growled in reply, focusing back on the food. He finished the bowl faster than he thought he would. Izzy scraped the dregs into his mouth, swallowed effortlessly, and tore into the bread with a fury.

“You can be hungry, and eat as much as you like,” Stede continued, as if Izzy didn’t know.

He stared over at him, chewing the mouthful of bread he’d bitten off, and answering around it, just to piss him off. “I know I can.”

“I can tell, you seem eager tonight. You can eat when the food is hot too, though, it’d probably taste better.”

“Don’t comment,” Izzy warned.

“It wasn’t a comment, it was a suggestion,” Stede corrected.

“Leave me alone.”

Stede straightened, looking serious. “Was that—?”

“No. You have to learn from your mistakes, Captain.” He let the venom seep into his words, letting him know what the fuck he thought of him, as if he wasn’t aware. He tore another hunk of bread off, dipped a knife into the jam, remembering he wanted it for a reason, spread it on his bread, and bit into it. Admittedly, it was better than the stew, but bread and jam always tasted good, it was shelf stable enough to last a while, sweet as anything, and it was more or less the only good food they had regularly on their old ship. Nostalgia made anything taste good, even in terrible company.

“You must be enjoying that,” Stede noted.

“It’s fine.”

He gave up on the knife after the first try. Bread was nothing but an edible vehicle to deliver jam into his mouth in a mildly more acceptable way, and it wasn’t like he needed to look acceptable. He tore a hunk off the loaf and used it like a spoon, hoping Bonnet would comment on this egregious misuse of bread and disuse of the knife he was just using appropriately. He wanted to be disgusting. Izzy, deep down, needed Stede to ask Ed about him, why Izzy was the man that Ed kept around for so long, why he was his first mate. He wanted to hear Ed say why it was, if it was nostalgia, like Izzy’s own slight affection for sugar. Maybe he’d just admit to wanting Izzy around because he actually liked him, or because he was just useful enough often enough, like a tool that you need every couple of years and can’t throw out because of its utility. He couldn’t be replaced that easily, it was evident because of the way he was still around, and not dead yet.

“So, you do like the jam? I admit it’s good stuff, you can finish off the jar, if you like.”

Like he ever needed permission, especially from him, and of course he liked it, that wasn’t the point. He clearly wasn’t disgusting him yet, the idiotic fuck. It wasn’t Bonnet’s words that made him want to finish the jar, not fully, at least. He wanted to finish it off to say he could, and sugar-fueled stomachaches seemed to hurt that much more.

Besides, what good was he if he couldn’t figure out the lines his Captain wouldn’t cross? He crossed the lines Ed drew for himself constantly, killing for his safety, when he had to, making sure the stupid bastard ate, something substantial, when he was in his shitty moods, stuck into his misery. It was only fair he learned Bonnets boundaries too, where the line of interest met disgust in his behavior. He could learn where the line was. Easy. Ed told him his weak spots one way or another, and that worked out just fine between them. This could work on Bonnet.

In his incessant stewing, he realized he’d run out of jam. It was a relatively small jar, and wasn't full to begin with, but he finished it handily regardless. He methodically finished the bread too and took to the other leftovers Stede found fitting to give him. He started after that, picking up the fork closest to him and spearing bites of food, still trying to figure out why the fuck this was happening. Why hadn’t he heard him following? Why was he trying to get him to eat? He was eating, he’d said he was, so what was the problem with what was happening?

He never stopped thinking, while he ate, it was the worst part of the shitty life he had to live, he had to eat enough to not dwell on his misery, but still had to think while he was shoving the food down his throat. He wasn’t ever free of thinking, constantly goddamn miserable, in one kind of pain or another. He’d get at least some mild joy out of seeing Stede crumple at the look of him, grossly full as he’d get himself. Hell, if he wasn’t horrified yet, he was sick in the head enough to warrant starting some kind of mutiny.

 “You seem lost in thought.” Stede Bonnet never quite realized when it wasn’t time to break a train of thought with a comment, as Izzy was quickly learning.

“Not sharing my thoughts with you,” Izzy spat.

“I know you won’t, not willingly, at least. You just look like you’re sitting emotionally somewhere between anger and something I’ve never seen from you.”

“That doesn’t matter. This is about you being goddamn convinced I won’t eat unless provoked.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m provoking you.”

“I wouldn’t say your fucked up tactic was working,” Izzy shot back.

“I disagree, especially with how you’re actually eating, and not just arguing.”

“You’re not helping at all, besides bothering me.”

“But I’m still here. I’m letting you tell me when to leave. So why won’t you? Especially since I’m bothering you.”

“Drop it,” Izzy warned in a low growl.

Stede, to his credit, did drop it. For a solid stretch of minutes, even. Then he had to keep watching him, because there was nothing and no one else to watch. Izzy didn’t want to look at him, so he didn’t, instead he focused on his food silently. Bonnet had a good run of it, honestly, keeping his mouth shut for once, and letting Izzy have his peace and quiet while he ate.

But, eventually, too quickly, against any sane instincts, he spoke up again, almost out of impulse.

“You’re doing so well for me.” Stede’s tone and gaze had both softened in saying that, taking on a quality that made Izzy blanch instantly.

Izzy flinched back, dropping his fork abruptly. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Stede tinged pink with embarrassment.

That made it worse. What the fuck is wrong with him?  Izzy moved from being furious, to being furious and mortified.

That fucking idiot looked guilty.

“You wouldn’t like it if I said it was force of habit, would you?” he asked, infuriating Izzy further.

“No. I wouldn’t. I’d fucking hate it if you said that. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Izzy asked, refusing to go back to his food if that was the response he’d get.

“Even if you hate it, it’s true. I should admit the rest of it to you, like you’ll not hate that more. Do you really want to hear why?” Stede asked, grimacing. “I can tell you now, you don’t want to hear it.”

“Less vague,” Izzy critiqued. “Why the fuck did you say that to me? I deserve to know.”

“I told you already, it was force of habit, and I know you’re not oblivious to Ed, but I’ll explain it in a way you’ll hopefully not stab me over. Recently, Ed and I, rather I’ve been… feeding Ed, after dinner, occasionally. It just bled through with you, is all.” He shifted in his seat, ready to move if he had to, whether it meant leaving silently or taking the blade Izzy would stab him with, since Izzy fought harder when he was provoked.

“I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I need more details. What the fuck do you think you’re doing with me if you do whatever you’ve done with him?”

“This was an accident, I told you already. He likes it, and I like giving him that attention. I didn’t mean to say that, it just came out. You won’t want to hear more, because I don’t want to get stabbed tonight if you don’t like what I say.”

Izzy wasn’t stupid, he really didn’t want to hear more. Besides, certain things made sense, suddenly. Things he didn’t hate, especially how Ed looked lately. Honestly, he thought he was just eating like a regular person again, rather than his moods defining his appetite. He didn’t think about it very long before the reality of what was happening crashed into his brain.

Eating like that was a thing for Bonnet and Ed both. It hadn’t occurred to him before then that Bonnet was the real reason he’d filled out so readily and quickly. He felt stupid, and used, and one other truth occurred to him: if he didn’t hate Ed gaining weight like he had, he may not be disgusted by Izzy eating so much at once. He couldn’t think anything else through, so he spat out the only truly coherent thought he had.

“You think I’ll just let you get hot under the collar for me when you're dating him, of all people?”

Finally, it was Bonnet’s fucking turn to look confused. “Now, where did you get that idea? I just said the comment was an accident, it slipped out. I’m just trying to have a civil conversation with you. That’s all it has to be, because it wasn’t my intention to make you furious at any point.”

“I'm not a civil person, and I don't like you being here. This is to teach you to leave me the hell alone after this,” he reminded him. The smallest sliver of his consciousness did sort of enjoy hearing he was doing well to eat, as if he wouldn’t without the encouragement, which felt idiotic, and like something he’d forget about after he slept.

“I know you do. That being said, the instant I go too far, tell me and I swear I’ll leave you alone. Is that still alright?”

“It’s fine. I’m not weak, and I’m not your dog,” he growled. He could work with the turn the situation took. It wasn’t going to be normal by any means, but he’d at least have a nice time figuring out the limits Bonnet had on seeing someone glut himself so utterly and embarrass someone other than himself for once. “I’ll let you stay, just keep the comments to yourself.”

“I can do that,” Stede agreed.

“I know I can eat as much as I like,” Izzy reminded him, for what had to be the hundredth time that night.

“I’m sure you do, especially with the appetite you’ve got, but you also should know you don’t have to sneak around like it’s a secret that you, Izzy Hands, eat food like a normal person.”

“So, you came here to tell me I’m miserable and that turned into watching me eat whatever you put in front of me?”

“I came here to try and figure out exactly why you’re making yourself miserable like this. Anything else is accidental.”

“You followed me,” Izzy growled, “to the kitchen, where food is, to figure out how I feel about him, which you already knew. I don’t have a single reason to trust you.”

“Or believe what I’m telling you, I know. Still, it's honest coincidence.”

“You could’ve left after telling me all that.”

“I know that too. I think you may want company, but don’t want my company, so you’re settling, or letting me talk because you think you have to teach me something about what makes you tick. Although, it could be your very strong stubborn streak that’s making you want to persevere.”

“I do this shit because I like it. I don’t have to think if I’m hungry or full, and doing this gives me both.”

“See? It’s easy to answer a question.”

By forcing it out of me, yeah. Real fucking easy. “Why bother me? You’re dating Edward, you shouldn’t care about me.”

“Because I know you’re miserable, and I want to help.”

“Your timely death would help.”

“Not like that.”

“You offered.”

“Regardless, you should eat, and worry less about me.”

He wasn’t worried about anyone, much less that prick. He ate anyway, just to shut him up that much longer.

“You really were hungry.”

“Like I’d eat if I wasn’t?”

“You’ve got me there.”

Izzy shook his head in disbelief for a moment and went back to his food. It wasn’t really hard to finish what he set out, considering it was apparently what he thought a suitable dinner was.

“If you’d allow me to say it, outside my own habits with… you know, you really are doing well eating.”

“That’s not helping.”

“You’re sure? Even if it’s true?”

“Don’t coax me into liking your coaxing.”

“Or?” Stede asked, knowing there was an or that he wanted to get out of his system.

“I can kick you out. Then you really won’t get to see just how much I can handle.”

“Was that you offering?”

“If it keeps you off my case.”

“I can work with that. Do you want more?” Izzy gave him a look as if to ask if he was really that stupid. “I get it, don’t look so sour. Soon as you want me out, I’ll go, straight to bed, although you probably don’t want to hear that part.”

“I don’t. Shut up, so we can both go to bed eventually? It’s late. Someone may wonder where you’ve been.”

“He’ll know I was with you, don’t worry about that. I’ll tell him in the morning.”

“That makes it worse, so much fucking worse that he didn’t know you planned to bother me.”

“I didn’t want him thinking you’d try to hurt me if he wasn’t around. I like to think I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t try that.”

“I would. You snuck up on me, I still could gut you in an instant, and you’d never get the chance to fight back.”

“You haven’t. I keep pushing boundaries with you and you just keep letting me. To some people, that would seem like you’re not fully against this happening.”

“I don’t like you.”

“I’ve heard. You have a dozen ways to get me to leave. You even want to let me give you more food, even though that was probably an average dinner. Do you want some of the leftover dessert, by any chance?” He changed subjects, getting up, knowing the answer he’d get already, and knowing his real answer. Men who hate sugar don’t finish most of a jar of jam single-handedly. Izzy wasn’t exactly the most secretive person he’d met.

“Fuck you.”

“Not an answer,” Stede chided.

“You’re right, it's not. It’s a why do you care.”

“Curiosity,” he replied simply, rummaging around again for more leftovers, deciding what food Izzy would enjoy, with the slight edge he had that the first mate had a sweet tooth like his Co-Captain did, maybe less of a penchant for it, but similar enough to find something he’d enjoy.

“That’s always it for you, isn’t it? You’re just fucking bored. You fail utterly at everything you try doing, so you’re thinking I’m the next project, aren’t you?” he asked, letting his voice lower to a growl, insulting him blatantly.

“You have a lot of pent-up aggression,” he noted, ignoring the aggression entirely. ”Regardless, here.” He set the plate down in front of Izzy again and sat next to him.

“So what if I do? Haven’t had anything to fucking do in weeks.” No outlet meant nothing to hit, threaten or murder besides a training dummy, or a wall, and those didn’t bleed or threaten his life. He had no way to release his pent-up aggression, with the crew ignoring him on purpose, never giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. They’d learned that from their Captains, clearly.

“I thought you’d enjoy that, but to each their own.”

Looking at the plate, it was dessert, as threatened. He’d given him more bread, too, which was typical to what would get left out, but there were some pastries that he knew Bonnet put with the bread as an experiment, seeing if he’d eat them, probably also how much he’d enjoy them, realizing the jam wasn’t a one-off thing for Izzy. He hated being a test subject.

“Frowning at your food is not eating it. Was I wrong assuming you’d like the leftover pastries?”

Izzy gave him a glare that should have gotten him to burst into flame at the very least or gotten him to admit that statement was incredibly bold and back off. But, of course, he didn't and wouldn’t. Fuck.

“That is not an answer and won't get you out of here any sooner. Israel, you haven’t eaten all day. You’ve got to compensate for that somehow.”

“Prick.” Calling him Israel, taking that tone with him, being nice, it was too much to try to take as genuine.

“I just know you wanted more food and didn’t want to say it. I’m not trying to be a prick.”

“I don’t want you thinking I’m starving,” he conceded, knowing he’d never win outright, still not eager to finish the rest of his dinner, even if it looked good, better than the stew. Asshole.

“And I’d feel better that you weren’t starving if you’d just finish a bit more food. You don’t have to finish it all, but I’d feel better if you did, or tried to.”

“For what? Me to look like a fat fucking animal? For you to tell Edward I’m weak? Why try this shit with me?”

“I like knowing that people I care about have enough to eat, you included.”

Izzy scoffed. “I was wrong, you’re a prick and a damn liar.”

“Then just tell me I’m not welcome, and you can finish your dinner alone, like you want to.”

Izzy stared at him, trying to see if he was offering to fuck off finally. He couldn’t tell, so he didn’t tell him to leave. “You don’t care if I’m full, you want to see how far I’ll get pushed.”

“I bet you’ve got room in there for more regardless. I just want to help, if you’d let me.”

He’d show him exactly what full looked like, then, since he wanted to know so damn badly. “I hope you understand that this is absolutely not your doing. I’m just eating dinner, which I didn’t have to do, especially not with or for you.” He shoved a bite of food in his mouth, like it proved a goddamn thing.

“I know. But still, I hate thinking you're starving yourself because you think you have to.”

“I know I don't.”

“Then why do you?”

The real issue with Bonnet wasn't how charming everyone thought he was, it was how worried he'd get about shit that didn't matter in the slightest. Also, the way that no amount of intimidation worked on him was incredibly obnoxious. Both of those things were reasons Edward was in love with him, though. Knowing as much did make him consider for just a few seconds that those traits could be endearing, before immediately shutting down the thoughts and glaring at the offending party.

“Not your business, you nosy fuck. Edward never got onto me about it before. I’m not incapable of understanding my own needs and how to function, because I’m not a total fucking idiot.”

“Of course you’re not. You’re a very capable pirate who can make his own decisions, without his Captains’ approval or permission.” Stede noted him admitting to his history of doing this, which he’d also tell Ed, because that was an interesting piece of information. “You can know that you’re allowed to eat, too, though.”

He crammed food into his mouth, so he couldn’t snarkily reply, knowing as soon as it was in his mouth, he was playing into the prick’s hand directly. He wanted to be full enough it was undoubtable he’d eaten more than plenty, even if it was also what Bonnet wanted from him. He’d done it before, and he’d do it again, making sure he wasn’t followed or seen the next time everything became insufferable. He wouldn’t be able to breathe by the time he’d be satisfied with himself, but it came with the territory. Izzy didn’t care much about the consequences of stuffing his body with food like that, especially not what Stede would think of him.

“So good for letting me give you more, especially when you think I’m so terrible for taking interest in your wellbeing,” Stede remarked.

Izzy chose to ignore that comment, like he ignored half the comments up to that point. He’d eat even if Bonnet didn’t say he was good, and that proved… something about how little he cared about Stede, because he didn’t care. The comment didn’t immediately take up a great deal of valuable room in his head, it just didn’t. He didn’t think about anything that much, especially not how he’d do a lot of things to hear him say he was good again. He wasn’t very good at convincing himself of his own lies.

Forget about him, so long as he’s satisfied it’s done with, he’ll leave soon as he’s disgusted, he reminded himself.

It still stuck in his head how he said he was good. It sounded practiced, like he’d done it before, but not with him specifically, which was definitely true. He kept eating, methodically shoving food in his mouth and swallowing automatically, wishing he was alone and wishing he didn’t have to have company watching him. The endeavor was beginning to feel particularly hopeless, and he hated pointless things. He always seemed to do them anyway, though, just complaining about how it was pointless to be doing what he was doing, and hearing a sarcastic comeback about how he could just stop. He gave up thinking about any of it after a while, because it wasn’t helping him feel less terrible.

He was quickly drawn out of ignoring everything around him, including his thoughts, when he felt his clothes constricting his body slightly too much. Embarrassing as it was, he had to unbutton his vest, he felt his belly press into it just a little too far to be comfortable, so he undid the buttons with practiced precision. He stretched his back a little, in the minutes of peace. Bonnet evidently noticed him stop eating and was watching him silently. Izzy wanted to unlace his pants too he settled for loosening the laces just slightly. They weren’t that tight, at least. Nothing really was, it just felt better to be less constrained by his clothes, eating so much. He slowly met the gaze out of necessity, so he could stop the comment before it came out of his stupid mouth.

“Yes?” he ground out.

“Get too tight?” Stede asked anyway.

“Not anymore, lucky for you, I can get more in me after that. You’re dying to see that, aren’t you?” Izzy asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Stede shrugged, nonchalant, evidently not understanding his tone, or ignoring it on purpose, which seemed more likely. “It’s a conversation, so long as you're still comfortable.”

“It’s not just anything to you, not when you admitted to it being an interest of yours. I admitted to getting myself this full on occasion, because I can, and I don’t hate doing it.” He kept going after his food, wishing he wasn’t obligated to do the stupidest shit just to be left alone.

“You can eat your fill and I can control myself.”

“Can you?”

“You seem to be doing alright with the former.”

Izzy groaned, knowing he’d really regret doing this later, when it was over. “Don’t act like this is ever happening again.”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll try not to accidentally find you eating so much in one sitting.”

“And I’ll try not to kill you the instant I see you look at me outside this room.”

Stede smiled, like Izzy was kidding, which he wasn't. “Oh, that’s a new line to draw. I swear I won’t look at you any particular way if it gets me stabbed. However, I will almost definitely need to look at you for everyday things.”

“All I want to hear is that you won’t look at me like I’m pathetic, or that you’d do— I don’t want to even think about what to me. You have him, there’s no point in fucking with me.”

“I’m not fucking with you, I just want to know you’ll be alright, and that you can care for yourself. That’s what I expect from my crew, a mild level of care for yourselves, and I wholly assume you’ll someday realize that hiding away like this won’t help you long-term.”

“It’s worked this long,” he mumbled.

“I’ve heard that line from my Co-Captain, too, you know, more times than I can count. Don’t suffer in silence, and don’t make me use the saying on you.”

“Don’t. I remember.” Izzy hated talking about his feelings, or doing group anything, that’s why he and Ed worked decently enough together, they left each other alone. Stede wouldn’t, couldn’t, rather, give him that mercy.

“I’m only saying if you’d talk—" Stede started.

“I’m not telling you my problems,” Izzy shot back.

“Doesn’t have to be me, if you’d remember—"

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growled.

“I only want to help,” Stede said, truly trying to be nice.

“You don’t need to, and your help won’t do a thing for me.”

“It wouldn’t?”

“No.”

“And eating as much as you have tonight, that will?”

“If I don’t think, I don’t have to consider how I feel. That’s helpful,” Izzy answered, grossly truthfully.

Stede grimaced. “That’s not anything close to helping. I’d call that a different way of not dealing with your emotions.”

“And?” Not dealing with his emotions meant he didn’t have to deal with them, if he couldn’t think about how goddamn miserable he felt, he could convince himself he was alright.

“That’s not good.”

“And I’m supposed to be good?” He watched him warily, knowing the answer would be upsetting and obnoxious to hear. Izzy was pretty sure he’d never been ‘good’, just a deeply flawed idiot, working with another deeply flawed idiot, trying to sort out whatever made them so broken, only making it worse over time. He was positive good would be unattainable, it’d be something to see the optimistic fuck agree, though.

“Mentally well is a great starting point for you,” Stede answered.

Huh. Good to hear even he thinks I’m helplessly fucked, he thought. Ignoring the mild surprise that even Bonnet evidently didn’t think good was possible for him, he decided to try and convince himself and Stede he was alright, like he’d believe it. “I’m doing just fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Trust me, I’ve done worse.”

“You could do better,” Stede retorted. “Doing worse in the past doesn’t mean you have to resist changing or doing things for yourself for once.”

“It works out like this. Besides, a lot would have to change to make me whatever your standards are.”

“Slightly less hellbent on murder and significantly more willing to eat, is my goal to start,” Stede clarified.

Izzy huffed out a condescending laugh. “Low standards.”

“It’s you we’re looking at. You have to set reasonable goals.”

“Reasonable would've been leaving me alone.” And not offering food or fucking with Ed’s feelings, you fucking idiot, he added silently.

“I’ve been told I’m not exactly reasonable.”

“Or normal, or sane,” Izzy added, for good measure.

“Those I’ve gotten from you specifically, yes.”

“Because no one else will tell you the truth.”

“Now, that’s pushing it.”

Izzy paused eating, just for a moment, to enjoy the argument, before he went back to it between retorts. “No, it’s not, everyone else is too obsessed with the idea of you that they won’t say what they actually fucking mean.”

“And you will, is that what you’re getting at?” Stede asked.

Izzy looked relieved. “Yes. Finally, we agree.”

“I wasn’t agreeing, just clarifying.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are just a little difficult to deal with?” Stede asked, expecting the sarcastic answer he was bound to get.

“Ask your boyfriend that one,” Izzy retorted. He’d heard he was a ‘fucking pain in the ass’ before, among worse insults. Difficult was an understatement.

“That’s my answer, is it? I will admit he’s vented to me about you and said that you rarely listen to him. My advice hasn’t helped him with you yet, if he’s taking it to heart at all.”

Izzy had to ask, his mouth decided that before his brain, because he had to hear what part of Ed dealing with him lately was pulled directly from Bonnet’s fucking broken brain. “How do you think he should deal with me?”

“That should be obvious, by not keying you up so much for one, trying to be just a tiny amount kinder and more understanding of your plight, because anyone who watches you even a little can see how you feel about him, except him, I’ve noticed, you probably knew that. He hasn’t told me much about if anything’s changed between you, so I assume…”

“Same as he’s always been, a little stupider than before he met you, but generally the same as usual.”

Stede nodded. “He’s just a touch set in his ways, like someone I know.”

“Fuck off, comparing me with him like we’re so alike.”

Stede’s mouth quirked up for just a second, almost imperceptible, as he forced it back down. “And you’re so much more sensible than he is?”

Izzy looked up from his food just to glare at him, exasperated. “Yes. That’s my fucking point. That’s been my point. For years. I have to be sensible, because people like you and Edward are absolutely out of touch with reality.”

Stede thought for a moment. “If you’d let yourself enjoy things, just once, without thinking about how it could possibly go wrong or make you feel or look stupid, I think you’d see the point.”

He didn’t even try to argue about the way he would look stupid constantly and how things would go incredibly wrong anyway.  “Point of what?”

Stede didn’t even pause, he just answered, like he had the epiphany before, for himself, but it couldn't have been that, as far as Izzy was aware about the man he was sitting with. “Of being alive, enjoying the sensation of being alive and not just surviving, breathing air and not seawater. You can actually live your life to be happy, not just to be alive by sundown.”

Izzy laughed harshly. “Try that by yourself and tell me how that goes.”

“It went alright, for a while.”

“You still needed help so that no one slaughtered you.” Alright never meant stabbed or hanging by a noose, Bonnet needed their help to survive.

“I’m not too proud to admit that yes, your help was necessary past a certain point, but you said I wouldn’t survive long without your particular brand of piracy, I said I made it pretty far with just my methods.”

Izzy knew what Stede meant, that he and Ed could learn to relax a little, insinuating Izzy was the holdout, since Ed so clearly had. He wouldn't consider that Izzy hated that idea, he could make him.

“I don’t think you know just how long I had to force him to survive. Our lives depended on him not being a fucking idiot. You could never begin to understand just how hard it was to force that man to get up and just live his fucking life.” And suddenly, he didn’t need Izzy anymore, he found a new shiny object, and now the bastard was trying to figure out why Izzy was assuming the newness of him would absolutely wear off, that Izzy’d just have to do it again when it did wear off, drag Blackbeard back out of the depths of whatever dark cloud covered his logical brain, and force him back into the man he needed to be.

Survival was vital, for real pirates, and Stede Bonnet was not a real pirate. That same man was suspiciously quiet for too long, come to think of it, coming up with the next thing to say about his habits, what ‘his Ed’ felt about Izzy or himself.

Stede chose his words deliberately. “Maybe surviving doesn’t have to be your baseline, anymore. It could be better.”

There it was.

Could it be? Ed used to ask something like that, if it could ever get better. He’d ask because survival was so awful for him that he just wanted something better, outside the boredom and exhaustion, with Izzy taking over what he could without drawing suspicion of trying to usurp his boss. He wanted Ed to remain captain as much as anyone else did. It was just that keeping everyone alive silently became harder when you had a dozen onlookers who hated your guts, and when your boss suddenly was as useful as a corpse.

Izzy honestly wasn’t sure he was allowed better.

“Since you’ve got the answers suddenly, I may as well ask. What’s the point of all this?”

“Whatever you want to do, like actually being happy, maybe?” Stede suggested.

“You know it’s your fault I’m so miserable, right?”

“I’d like to help you realize you can exist outside the misery, especially if it’s my fault.”

“As if I’ll let you help me, as if I need your help.”

“You don’t let yourself eat regularly. The self-destruction won’t help anyone,” Stede chided.

“You’re not helping nearly as much as you want to think you are.”

“Would you rather I be quiet?” he offered.

Any other time, Izzy would. “No. It’s worse if you’re not talking.”

“That’s almost a compliment. Good for you.”

“Really?” Izzy asked, morbidly curious if the bar for him was really that low.

“I can't say you're doing better than I thought you would?”

“No. But I want to hear how you thought it would go now.”

“Thought you'd kill me, or try to,” Stede replied honestly.

“Right. And I can't right now?”

“It's going a little too well for it to be my last hours alive.”

“I can make it go worse for you. Kitchens have knives.” Plus, he had a knife on him, not his usual weapon, but still, he was ready to hurt someone if anything happened. As if anything happened lately, but old habits can be useful.

“It's still going too well between us for you to try maiming or killing me.”

“And it can go worse. If I wanted Ed to murder me, I could always end you here and now.” He speared a chunk of meat to punctuate the sentence as Stede looked confused.

“Would he?”

“He adores you.” Izzy thought that much was obvious, it’d be almost offensive if that idiot couldn't tell just looking at Ed that he was thrilled to be dating him.

The confusion met nervousness. Stede’s brow furrowed. “But—”

Oh, that.

Izzy knew the same thing Stede did, then. The look on his face said enough. Good to hear just how much Ed told him about his past, it was a little surprising he told the real story, but not that surprising, they were dating, after all. The whole patricide conversation had to come up eventually, whether he meant to or not.

It probably came up when Ed was crying, stressed out by God knows what, besides the general pain of reliving his first and only act of murder like he would sometimes, just like he was when he told Izzy a while after they met. Shivering in the middle of the day, curled up like a little kid, stuck firmly in the smallest corner he could find, crying his eyes out, barely pausing to breathe.

Izzy knew damn well what Stede was about to say.

But— the Kraken.

Bonnet was about to gracelessly splutter something seemingly absurd about a sea monster that had awfully human characteristics, swapping tentacles for rope between the two versions of a story best left the fuck alone, and most vitally for the point he wanted to make, ended with the fact Edward Teach swore never to kill again after that night so many years ago, not by his own means, anyway. Accidents never counted, neither did arson, or planned executions with victims solely at the crew’s mercy, none of those were by his own hand. Torture and keeping someone on the brink also didn’t count.  Clean conscience and a kept promise.

Convenient how it all worked out.  Of course he'd tell Bonnet, infatuated with him like he was. Plus, Izzy’s piss poor attempt at getting Ed to kill him, or get him killed, which didn't work out. Frankly, Izzy didn't want to hear it. “I know. He's got good fucking reason to commit murder again if someone hurts you. I shouldn't have to tell you he likes you.”

Stede had the gall to look confused. Izzy would’ve laughed if he wasn’t legitimately unsure if he was unaware of the depth of feelings from Ed that apparently everyone but Bonnet could see.

“Come on, Bonnet. You know he adores you, don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m not trying to be, I know he does. I’m just… surprised you think that.”

“Well, it’s probably true, so if you hurt him—"

Stede’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Still. Realize the stakes if you think of doing anything to him, for his sake.”

Stede grinned at him. “Of course.”

“What’s with that face? I just fucking threatened you with deliberate and painful murder, look upset, or— something,” he fumed.

“You really do care about him. It’s nice to see you passionate about something other than your typical stubborn fury.”

“Passionate about not letting my boss get more self-destructive than he’s ever been because you could get careless with him? Sure, great change in my behavior,” Izzy muttered. “Take offense to it, if nothing else.”

“I know you mean it. You usually mean it when you look more serious than angry, and you do try to hurt me when you’re not so full.”

“Shut up,” Izzy spat.

Once again, he did, shrugging, and letting Izzy eat in peace.

Luckily, he was almost done eating, and he could leave, utterly unable to force more food down his throat. He knew he was completely transparent to Bonnet, but he still tried to hide things from him. Like how much he’d eaten, he realized it too late and instinctively his hand met his side, feeling the swell of his belly, pressing into it, as if it would ease the pain of eating as much food as he’d normally eat in a day in one sitting. He couldn’t breathe deeply without it hurting him, that was the real clue he’d eaten plenty. If he didn’t have company, anyway. No fucking wonder he was getting watched. He was being obscene. He felt his pants cutting just slightly too far into his skin still, so he yanked the laces looser again, just enough to not reveal any skin, in case Bonnet really had no self-control. At least the general disgust in himself hadn’t set in until then, and he was almost done. Irritation made it easier to eat, as he quickly shoved the last bites of food into his mouth and managed to swallow them. It was hard, but not impossible. Maybe this would end without bloodshed.

Stede was still sitting in the other chair, watching Izzy intently, even if he didn’t notice. He could tell he was in pain and didn’t want to leave him like that if he wasn’t ready to be left alone yet. The poor thing, he looked irritated with himself as much as he looked annoyed with Stede. It was nice to get to look him over without getting threatened or insulted, even if he heard him groan a little. He made a sympathetic noise, knowing how much pain he had to be in, which made Izzy’s head snap up, his eyes wide, quickly narrowing as he looked back at Stede, pinning him with a furious glare.

“Why are you still here?” he asked. “You got what you wanted, I can eat, clearly. So why won’t you just go to bed now? Are you that hellbent on torture that you’ll just fucking watch me do this, pretend like you’re doing it out of interest in my health and safety? Avoiding Ed, maybe?” His tone went sharp at the end, in case there did need to be two corpses as the result of the evening. It’d be hell on Ed, losing his idiotic overly attached boyfriend and idiotic overly attached first mate at the same time, blissfully unaware his boyfriend was trying to cheat on him.

“I’m not trying to avoid him, or lying to you, before you insinuate it. I’m just keeping you company. That’s all it needs to be. I don’t try to hurt you, most of the time, hell, I would’ve left earlier if you weren’t so bad at hiding your feelings, and weren’t so eager to eat, when prodded. Before this, I didn’t know about this habit of yours. I promise you that much. Because I can’t have you starving yourself like you’ve been doing. Don’t say you weren’t hungry to start with, you devoured everything I gave you. Men who aren’t starving don’t do that,” Stede said, getting a little tired of repeating himself to Izzy’s misunderstanding and rage.

“As if you know,” Izzy spat.

“I didn’t hear you say no to my accusation, did I? You’re not a great liar.”

“If I protest, you’ll just say I’m protesting too much to be telling the truth. I’m fucked either way.”

“That’s true, but you can’t lie to me and think I’ll just believe you, especially now, especially about food or your feelings. As first mate—”

Izzy had to cut him off, before that idiot dug his own grave. “You can go fuck yourself, Bonnet. You don’t understand a single part of this. You can’t hope to understand it, and you can’t possibly think that I would just sit here and bend to your will like a fucking dog!” Izzy growled.

Stede sighed, and looked at Izzy, his voice taking on a stern tone. “No. I don’t understand, not like you or Ed, at least. But I am a quick learner, and I know you have feelings for Ed, romantic feelings. I also know that those feelings make you think you have to suffer for the sake of it, neglecting your own health and safety for him, if I can be so bold as to speculate further on it. Hell, I even know you’re our first mate, he chose you as his right-hand man, and it wasn’t an accident. That’s important to you, obviously, but as first mate, you are the example for the crew on how to act. That means one thing: you have to take care of yourself and work with us. Ed and I, we don’t expect complete submission from you. Believe it or not, he likes you acting against him when it’s useful. It's not helpful when you’re starving yourself like that.” He took another breath, let it out slowly, adrenaline bleeding from him. “So. If we’re clear, you can kill me now, deal with him yourself like you want to. Or kick me out, but I take it murder is preferable for pirates like you.”

Izzy didn’t reply at first, letting the words sink in. He didn’t answer fast enough, evidently, because Stede spoke again, the same way as before, his voice a little quieter and rougher.

“Are we clear, Israel?”

He had to bring it up, the second time he called him his full name, as if he had permission. Ed hadn’t even called him that in years, unless he was entirely done with his bullshit. It sounded nicer from Stede, fucked as it felt to think that. “Who said you could call me that?”

Stede grinned. “Nobody. But it does have the great benefit of getting you to answer me. So. Are we clear?”

“It’s clear that you think you’ve got something on me."

“Different phrasing then. Sorted out all your feelings now?”

“Why do I have to? This was about me not eating, not me ignoring my feelings.”

“Mood and hunger are tied together for most people, including you. Refusing to eat seems like an outlet for your emotions.”

Izzy didn’t want to give him an answer, but he had to. “They’re not, and I don’t.”

Stede was, as usual, unconvinced. “Right. And you’re still letting me sit here, maybe just to berate me in private, but you’re still not leaving. Why is that?”

“Because you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”

“Neither have you. You’ll just go right back to starving and stealing food like you’ve been doing.” Stede then had an idea. “Do you have a stomachache?”

“Eating that much, anyone would,” Izzy answered warily.

“Then we can test those theories of ours. Full as you are, I know of something that should help, regardless of how you feel about me touching you. Maybe you’ll learn that I’m not trying to hurt you. Just tell me to stop and I will, same as before.”

“What the hell are you going to try with me?”

“It should help with the pain,” Stede answered.

“Now who's being fucking vague?”

“You don’t like when I get into specifics.”

“I don’t.” Izzy thought a little harder, recognizing that this prick took several of Ed’s sudden habits and found similar ones with him and his behavior, taking some of those directly from Ed and Izzy’s past without even knowing. “Oh,” he muttered, disgusted by the revelation.

“What?”

“I know what you’re planning to do to me.”

“You know?” Stede asked, even more confused.

It was all too damn familiar to think over much longer, but his brain happily supplied the thoughts regardless. Funny how that worked out. Less funny how the offer lined up with the past, instead with Izzy wanting to help with the physical discomfort of eating so much, voice a little raspier with unfulfilled wanting, a lot less formally, and at someone else’s inadvertent indulgence. “Course I know. It’s not my place to explain it. Ask him if you’re just dying to know, but I doubt he’s willing to give details either.”

“Since you’re so willing to sit for me, and you know what I think will help, may I?”

Izzy sighed, weighing his options, as if he had any, still fighting the urge to dredge the memories up. “You can.”

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

“You’ll know well before I tell you.” He eyed up the knife by his plate, knowing he also had a knife on him, practically at the ready. He wouldn’t have the guts to try it, he’d probably just sit there and take it, knowing himself. “I can always cut both your fucking hands off.”

“Glad you’ve worked a system out, at least. And glad you took care of that vest already, it’s a lot easier to see all of you like this.” Stede gingerly slipped Izzy’s shirt up, exposing his belly, rounded out and full. “May as well get to, before you stab me to death with a steak knife.” He grinned ruefully, as if Izzy was kidding about the dismemberment, just before gently pressing ever so slightly into his overtaxed belly.

It only took Stede’s hands on his bare skin to surface the memories. Izzy didn’t even want to remember it, horrible as they’d both been to each other, as if it was much different lately. He couldn’t just let it go. Regardless, it was the reason Stede knew damn well what helped a stomachache. It was too easy for him to just touch him like that, and he'd ask in a matter of minutes why he'd gone quiet, he always seemed to, just to get another word out of him, thinking it was his fault Izzy had miraculously stopped reacting to the provoking bullshit he'd just said.

He would happily make himself feel worse just to forget that Stede Bonnet, of all the fucking people, was touching him.

It’d last been a few years ago, just a handful of months after Izzy first figured out Ed could really eat a lot when pushed, after he refused to even think about eating most of the time, said he felt too sick to manage to keep anything down. He always could, it turned out. Edward just needed a push, like he always did, especially, in that case, that miserable bottom-of-the-barrel case, keeping himself alive to see the end of the day, then wake up for the next one.

Izzy’s bedside manner was abysmal, because it wasn’t his job to be cheerful about keeping his boss alive, but it was his job to keep him from getting himself killed like an idiot. Their lives depended on Blackbeard not drowning himself in liquor or seawater. Izzy told him that every time, harshly forcing him to face the facts of his life that he signed up for.

With a sorry bastard like Izzy as his guard dog, he had to get used to the fact he’d bite if even his boss was the one pushing him. He respected Blackbeard, the man he served, not whatever bullshit Edward got stuck in so deep he couldn’t get himself out. He said as much to him, to work him up a little.

Pushing him like that only ever ended one way. Izzy would always end up against a wall, and as usual, a hand clamped around his throat, cutting his voice and air off almost completely. Ed looked guilty, shrank into himself a little, after seeing him struggle every time, coming to his senses immediately.

He’d let go after that, still looking guilty, incidentally letting Izzy catch his breath, work up enough confidence to spit another insult, and give him a lecture about how he was Blackbeard, whether he fucking liked it or not, and what was expected of him as captain.

The whole lecture about image and duty never helped anyone but Izzy, but that was alright. It helped him gather the patience necessary to get food, bring it to his quarters, and make damn sure he’d eat. He’d do it for a week, sometimes, until his boss seemed like himself again, not huddled under blankets like he could hide from everything, much less his first mate, and stopped asking what Izzy would always call pointless questions.

The first meal he’d get in his boss was always too much at once. When he got a taste of food again, it was like he finally remembered he was hungry, he’d get ravenous, devour what Izzy brought and ask for more. More always meant he’d end up whining, and in pain. He let him have it anyway.

As the ever-loyal dog of the notorious pirate Blackbeard, Izzy took to helping ease the pain, usually pressing in a little harder than necessary, making damn sure he remembered he wouldn’t hurt himself like that if he ate regularly. He said as much, too, hoping it’d drive the point into his thick skull.

After shoving all of that to the deepest part of his skull he could so it’d never come back up to bug him again, Izzy would be lying if he said he didn’t like what was happening.

Being that full, too full, to the point you could feel it weigh on you, it made you want to be touched, for anything to ease the strained feeling, the ache of it all, no matter whose fault it was, no matter who was there near you. Izzy was desperate for it then. Ed would get the same way, managing a pitiful whine about how much he ate, how it was entirely Izzy’s fault. It wasn’t true, but Izzy was a sucker for the act, and got distracted by the way he looked, even if being so pathetic should’ve been beneath him. Stede was caught up in that feeling too, by the looks of it, and the practiced way he was pressing in on his body, as Izzy still tried not to enjoy it.

Despite his best efforts, he’d relaxed a little, never realizing how coiled up he was, even just sitting there. Not then, though, when his body disagreed with the notion of being anything but putty in that man’s damnably soft hands. It felt nice, eased a bit of the pain like he figured it would, as if Ed would’ve lied, as if Izzy would let him. It was nice, except the one ever-present issue: Bonnet was touching him, and he refused to move to do a damn thing about it. There had to be something about Stede, something charismatic that drew people into his life, into what he wanted them to do. Must’ve been what happened to Edward.

He hated being so damn much like his boss, especially like this. It always felt like a weakness. The things he refused to do, the things he wanted from life, outside of keeping the monsters just in the margins, with the more mythical nature of Blackbeard, just short of scaring people away with his penchant for stupid theatrics. It was all just another shape of Ed’s weakness, things Izzy hated. Izzy relished the real fear, when he got it, before it dried up almost completely, years ago. He got a spark of it the day he met Stede, just barely, though, and it disappeared almost instantly. It wasn’t often anyway, and just then? With Stede watching him so carefully? He got pity. From someone he… was conflicted about, which was a hundred times worse than the original emotion of roiling hatred.

He looked pathetic and felt as much, and it really sunk in when the touch lightened and went away entirely, and that fucking idiot opened his mouth. Izzy then heard a soft, but very audible ‘there you go’ that came from where Bonnet was sitting that sounded awfully patronizing.

“What?” He spat, feeling the calm drain from his body instantly.

Stede, the transparent idiot he was, went pink. “Sorry. Nothing. Except— you just relaxed a bit, I felt it, and—”

“I’m fine. But if you keep prodding at me like that, you won’t be.”

Stede frowned. He was going to say it was nice to notice him relaxing under his hand like that. “I thought we made a breakthrough with you, was all. Pity.”

“A pity for you, absolutely.”

“Were you done with me touching you? I couldn’t tell,” he asked, tips of his fingers grazing over his belly. “You still seem as murderous as usual, so I could always—”

“I am fine, Bonnet.” He didn’t want to experience that feeling of unraveling again, it was obnoxiously off-putting.

Stede stopped touching him after that, taking Izzy as being done with the amount of attention he’d gotten to that point, if he liked the attention at all, which he did seem to, despite the shift back to where he’d been at the start of the evening. “I prefer more politeness, but I’ll take it. Low standards, with you.”

“Good. It’s what you’ll get from me until we both end up dead.”

“You tolerate everyone equally badly, I know. But you’ve got a soft spot for Ed.” He paused, making sure he wouldn’t get hurt finishing his remark. “And —about that, since you’re relaxed, at least a little— despite what you think about him and me, neither of us are nearly as opposed to you as you think we are.”

Izzy sat bolt upright, ignoring the jolt of pain through his body. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You should know what it means,” Stede said, his brow furrowed with uncertainty.

“I don’t. Because I don’t ask pointless questions, unlike you.”

“Fine. In blunt terms you’ll understand. If you want to date us, we are not going to hate you for trying.”

Why the fuck would he try to date Stede Bonnet? In Ed’s case it was apparently clear as glass that despite how idiotic Edward Teach was, Izzy was still infatuated with him, as he’d been for years, so that part made… some sense, it was embarrassing, honestly mortifying, but made sense. But— “You? Why you?”

“I make bad suggestions a lot, according to you and other people who at least claim to hate me. So, sure, me. In case you want to, I was just making it clear to you that it could work out.”

“That’s your point? Is that why you found me, followed me and stayed with me this long?”

“More or less.”

“You’re so fucking deranged. Wait. What about the rest of it? You know that too? You know everything else.”

“The rest of it meaning?”

“Now you’ll play the idiot card,” Izzy fumed.

“I think I told you before, I had no idea you were starving yourself and then binging on the leftovers, that was a fortunate discovery of me coming here to talk to you.”

“Real fortunate.”

“That habit of yours is a recent one, I can also assume?”

“Why would you care? I don’t matter to you.”

“You’re a valuable member of the crew, even if you’re a little prickly. Since you’re convinced I don’t care, you should answer just to shut me up. How often do you do this? I know you refuse food, and regular meals with everyone else, and since you’re out so late…”

“Often enough.”

“That’s not concrete.”

“It’s an answer, you like those. Take it or leave it.”

“Every night?” Stede asked, not leaving the answer as it stood.

“As often as I need to,” Izzy answered, vague as usual.

“People need to eat at least once a day, preferably more often.”

“Not that often. Don’t look worried about me, that’s pointless. I’ve been fine. A couple of times a week suits me fine. I eat a little sometimes when I don’t do that, it works out.”

Stede couldn’t help but look worried, expression softening. “That’s not a good habit to keep, even if it works for you now.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t stick your nose into people’s business,” Izzy retorted. “So, wipe that look off your fucking face. I just said I was doing alright, which to most people means leave it alone.”

The look shifted from worry to one of determination. If he wasn’t allowed concern, he’d just find a way around it, as usual in dealing with Izzy. “Another deal, then?” Stede asked.

“What?”

“Maybe more ultimatum than deal, but semantics aside, you have two options from here on out. You can choose to eat, two meals a day, if not more, preferably three, and with everyone, but I can settle with you eating alone, so long as you eat, or, you can keep doing this, get yourself sick doing it, and I get Ed to talk to you about it.”

“You won’t.” Using Ed as a gambling chip was idiotic. Obliviously in love with Ed and still willing to use him like that, and on Izzy, of all the bastards.

“If you don’t believe me, you could try it, see how long it takes, since you think so highly of me.”

“He hates doing that sort of shit, you know.” He liked his fear-theatrics when it was strangers who could get scared shitless, he hated it when it was someone like Izzy, who knew better and would happily call him on his shit if he made a threat that went too far. He’d be furious if he had to do that with Izzy, Bonnet had to know better, although with his performance already, his hopes were incredibly low.

“I know. That’s why you won’t try me on it.” He smiled in the most pleasantly unpleasant way Izzy had ever seen anyone smile. It seemed genuine but also truly full of venom. Fucking lunatic bastard.

“You’re fucking deranged, you know that?”

“I get that a lot.”

“Good. It suits you.”

“A lot of people would think that it does, it seems. So. Your thoughts on your daily habits in the future?”

“How will you tell if I’m eating if you’re not seeing me do it?”

“That sounds a lot like your problem to solve, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’d like the food even more if it was hot, hell, you could keep doing this to yourself alongside eating normally, if you wanted to.”

That would mean… “The hell would I do that for?”

“I don’t know, I’m no mind reader, just concerned with my crew and their well-being. You should know what you want, and what that means for you. I’ll drop the subject now, if you like.”

“Please,” Izzy muttered, begrudgingly.

“So be it, I suppose. Since you seem to be alright, and if you’d agree to considering that decision of yours to make, I can clear these dishes for you, since you seem… indisposed. That sound alright?”

“It does,” Izzy said, hesitating. “Whatever gets me to my quarters sooner.”

Stede smiled, took the empty plates and bowl, along with the cutlery, laid them innocuously on the counter, as if they’d belonged there to start with, and as he turned back, he saw Izzy still sitting in the chair, not having moved an inch in the minutes he had his back turned.

“Well? I thought you’d run out on me, you seemed so eager to leave.”

He had him there. “Can’t exactly. Just… leave me be, for a minute?” Maybe more like ten minutes, or twenty, but the point still stood, he could get up and leave, soon as he felt okay standing up and knew he wouldn’t hurt himself more.

“Do you maybe need a hand up?” Stede offered.

God damn him. Letting him glut himself like an idiot, of course he needed help, especially after coaxing him into eating more. Then chastely telling him he’d somewhat pinned himself under his own overfull belly. It was true but didn’t make it less painful to admit to needing help.

Gladly, Stede offered his hand, knowing the agitated silence was a yes, and without a word, Izzy took his hand.

“I’m not incapable,” Izzy said, proving the point to no one, and leaning not inconsiderably on the offered hand. He grunted as he stood, adjusting to his weight and steadying himself. Christ, he was full, he got talked into eating a hell of a lot. He normally didn’t eat quite that much, plus he’d had a chance to settle into the chair, rather than just taking the food into his room, to eat and then collapse with the typical hazy tiredness of feeling that full and heavy with the weight of overindulgence.

“I never said you were, just offered my help, you finished a lot of food, I just thought you’d need help up.”

“Didn’t,” he lied, quickly taking his hand out of Stede’s, since he was on his feet, steady, not ready to dash out the door, but ready to trudge back to his quarters, lie down and digest the food he’d eaten, sleep eventually, in blissful fucking quiet.

“Of course not,” Stede said, smiling, and looking oddly like he’d remembered something he’d forgotten. “Since you’ve been so charitable with me tonight, you deserve something.” Stede then turned and pressed a kiss to Izzy’s cheek before he could ask what the fuck he meant, saying that like he did. “With that, have a good night, Izzy.”

“See you tomorrow, Bonnet,” he muttered in reply, not verbally reacting to the kiss, but still recognizing the inevitable situation he’d be in when he woke up, but still following behind him out of the kitchen by a good distance, walking back to his quarters, gratefully in the opposite direction his damnable Captain went.

That distance didn’t mean he stopped thinking about that kiss. Neither did the way he just left, like nothing happened between them at all. Because nothing had to, but still, Izzy’s brain was preoccupied with it.

He fucking kissed me. He’s dating Ed, and he kissed me, of all the insufferable fucks here to cheat on, it was me. Worked out fucking nothing, not with that fucking idiot, were the thoughts caught in Izzy’s head, besides the thoughts dedicated to just how badly eating that much hurt him, how much worse moving was, how badly he wanted to just sleep it off, ignore the thoughts he suddenly just fucking had about Bonnet, of all the idiots he worked and lived with.

Situation that works out between us, my ass, he grumbled to himself, silently, so he’d not get caught talking to himself, especially about Bonnet of all people. He’d never talk about it with anyone, unless Ed was out of the loop on it, then he’d viciously recount every painstaking detail of that conversation they’d had, leaving out the feelings, and the part where it worked. It’d break his heart to hear it, and Izzy would only twist the knife a little, because it wasn’t his fault it happened at all. Knowing his boss, he’d shoot the messenger anyway. Always pointless. He didn’t dare think it wasn’t, because it was, and wishful thinking would make him an idiot. Just like them.

Bonnet usually kept his promises, to his credit, and he wasn’t enough of an idiot to cheat on Blackbeard and think he’d get out unscathed, but Ed hated Izzy. There was no way it worked out, so he should just give up thinking about it.

Thankfully, his room wasn’t that far from the kitchen, and he’d gotten to his bed, for a respite from his brain. He hated having time to think, especially when he specifically did what he did to not have to consider anything at all.

Stupid fucking Stede fucking Bonnet.

Izzy then undressed, refusing to try to sleep in anything that goddamn tight, gingerly eased himself onto the bed, then onto his side, laying down, and pressed the heel of his palm into his side. He settled for knowing he’d never soothe the ache, and draped his arm over it, absently running his fingers over the curve of it just under his ribs. Too fucking full, if he didn’t know it was pointless, he’d say he’d never eat that much again. The hunger had gnawed at his guts before and would again, probably around noon the next day, if not sooner, would say otherwise.

Plus, he enjoyed the way he felt, relishing the pain of it, knowing he wasn’t supposed to do that, hearing as much, too. The pleasure was gone when he thought of who’d supplied the food that night, but the swollen feeling of his body remained. He’d eaten what he was given, dutifully, obediently. Too obedient, uselessly obedient. Worthless dog.

But then it just circled back to Ed, and by extension Stede, as if they could stand to be apart long enough to consider being separate entities from the other, especially when their working relationship had them intertwined. Izzy considered Ed’s body at that point, then who did it to him, and finally the way Izzy laid alone then, groaning with fullness and at his own idiotic choices.

Someone had to be lying. Why Bonnet stayed, what disease had to have devoured his logical brain several years ago, why that fucking idiot sat there, why he’d touched him like he had, and kissed him. Dessert, as if it was a normal meal for him, and not a stupid mistake he’d made, carelessly not making sure he was alone. That fucking idiot couldn’t possibly like that, or want to encourage better behavior, but especially not eating that much on top of regular meals. No one could enjoy that, or the outcome of eating like that constantly.

Except—

Fuck.

It occurred to him no one had lied at any point, and that there was concrete, living proof.

Ed.

He had seen Ed plenty of times, fumed about how his boss looked when he was alone, tried to forget the image as he crammed food in his mouth alone, and since Ed’s clothes left little, if anything, to the imagination, he knew Bonnet was almost certainly not disgusted by Izzy’s overfull belly. He’d admitted to feeding Ed dessert, which was disgusting to have to hear from him when he’d gone all weird on Izzy, but accounted for the weight he gained since boarding and getting with Bonnet, outside the whole stable situation part of being near him. He even sort of recognized how it happened to his boss.

Izzy was familiar with the outward swell on himself, overfull, almost sick. There was one key difference, though: the way that it disappeared almost entirely the next morning, like he’d never eaten so much. Since he didn’t eat much outside those episodes of his, it faded to the point it was unnoticeable, just a slight layer of it stuck to him, but nothing notable, since it was repeated indulgence that stuck more, and really padded out a figure, but since he didn’t, he looked damn near the same. It would always be gone in the morning, and he could be done with it all, forget it happened, unlike with his boss, who’d taken to an all too similar habit in a different way, that Stede was trying to get Izzy into.

It was something Izzy was positive he’d never succumb to. He’d let Ed gripe at him for hours on end before he’d do that. He wouldn’t end up in a… relationship with them, placated, fat, it wasn’t something he’d want, he’d never go along with it.

 …Wouldn’t he?

Yes. He would happily avoid them both. He convinced himself that was a truth he could stake something in.

But, for just a second, an excruciating second, he had a thought, like something in the recesses of his skull had to add in the but, to make him consider the possibility, as minuscule as it seemed. An unspoken ‘what if?’ that he had to consider, especially since he sure wasn’t sleeping yet.

If he left all this to continue, to let Bonnet watch him eat and push food on him again, indirectly or directly, if he left the situation to fester like an infection, how far would it go? How fat would Stede get him? Then, he had to consider the next point: what about Ed? What would he think of everything? What the hell kind of situation works out between them and includes Bonnet getting them both fat, off the sheer amount of excess their lives suddenly led to? How far would that even go?

Excitement and interest lurched into his body at that line of thinking, even more sickening than it would’ve been with the excess of food in his body, as he thought it over more. He’d probably end up looking like Ed, belly too formidable for his pants, prone to spilling over the top of them enough to be obvious they didn’t fit anymore, probably end up wearing different pants entirely by then, with the rest of his clothes well on their way to permanent disuse. His vest wouldn’t even fit by then, would it? It was his tightest clothing besides his pants, running parallel to Ed’s jacket. Stede could absolutely get him downright fat, without all that much effort, couldn’t he?

That thought, the line of thinking that came so naturally to him, it excited him.

The idea of Bonnet, Stede Bonnet, fattening him up like his pet, that idea… was exciting. His chest felt hollowed out with disgust at that one, after thinking about it for utterly too long for it to remain thoughtless mind wandering and not a sick fantasy his brain cooked up. He couldn’t enjoy that. Shouldn’t, at least. Shouldn’t go along with it, if he suggested it sometime, probably soon. But he’d found that man that convincing once, so if he did it again…

He’d almost definitely end up bigger than he’d ever thought he’d end up. He’d end up fat, in the same situation Ed was in, and apparently it would work out, if Bonnet wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a good liar, so he was probably telling the truth the entire time. And that idea, the obvious end of the line of consideration, was exciting. He groaned again, both from the fullness and the influx of new, horrible emotions.

He forgot, in the haze of it all, that he said he’d never do it again. Izzy had sworn he’d not do it again. That left one problem to figure out, since he’d not let himself get caught binging on leftovers and hating himself like that again.

What the fuck was he going to do tomorrow?

Hopefully not eat in the company of Bonnet for the rest of his days, provided he was able to. Hopefully one of the two of them would tell Ed about the… whatever Bonnet tried at with Izzy, and hopefully not how it half-succeeded in the worst way. And especially hopefully he'd not stare at his boss like he was in love with him, since it was so plain to see he was a needy little prick.

He wasn’t about to make it out of the morning with his dignity intact, that was for damn sure. The thoughts he’d had, the way he liked the thoughts’ existence sealed that part of his fate for him.

That didn’t stop his eyes from shutting on him, sending him slowly, blissfully into sleep and unwillingly into the morning, when it came time for it.