Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Starting an Inn was a stupid, ridiculous and fucking moronic idea. 

So of course they did it. 

And of course it was an abject disaster. 

Sure, they had the house all done up and looking decent. But two of the most wanted men in the Caribbean could hardly advertise their fucking whereabouts! Or invite all and sundry to book a nice visit. 

Still, Ed and Stede were happy enough (even if Stede stared longingly at the sea and Ed tended to get fixated on weird shit every so often). 

Izzy was just there. Existing. Being. Watching Ed thrive and winding down his own clock. Between the loss of leg and the gut wound that nearly ended his life, he felt like he was on borrowed time anyway.

He had been tempted to stick with the crew when they fucked off, but with the leg he knew his use was limited. They would spend too much time watching his back and not enough on their own. So he stayed, built himself a little shack nearby and spent his days just…waiting. 

Still, the crew passed by every few months, staying a while in rooms that had no other visitors and keeping the men in touch with the goings on in the world and passing back and forth letters Stede still wrote to try and entice some ‘non-aggressive pirate clientele’. 

When Jackie sent back a thumb, they struck her off the mailing list. 

But this time, they had a letter that had Bonnet dancing around the ‘parlour room’. 

“Ed, look at this!” He beamed, waving the paper in his lover's face. “It’s someone who wants to visit and see if he can arrange some rooms for members of his crew throughout the year! Apparently we are nicely placed to stretch the legs! I knew this would work!”

“Nice one babe,” Ed nodded, scanning the letter after he managed to snatch it from Stede's hands. “Belfry…Belfry…Bell- Bellamy! Fuck Stede! Belfry’s an alias ol’ Sam Bellamy used to use - I swore the fucker was dead.”

“The Prince of Pirates!” Stede breathed, eyes going wide with the implication of being Private Royalty approved. “Do you know him?”

“Nah love, different circles. Could be a coincidence but…where are you going!”

“To dust the ceiling!”

Xxx

The arrival of Mr Belfry coincided with one of the crew’s stop by’s. Stede was pleased, seeing the extra hands as help putting their best face forward. Ed was pleased for the back up if this went tits up. 

The crew stuck two fingers up and left the men to it, preferring to loitor on the beach.

“Look, I don’t mind being here just in case of trouble, but there ain’t no way I am serving some random dude dinner,” Roach snorted, eyeing the big boat on the horizon. 

“Boundaries, right my guy,” Olu grinned, fist bumping the skinny man. 

“Sheer fucking laziness,” Izzy sneered, tightening his leg.

“So why arn’t you in there, apron on and getting the canopies ready?” Roach sneered back. 

“Sheer fucking laziness,” Izzy smirked back, getting a friendly pat on the back from Olu while Roach laughed. 

The crew spent most of their time on shore with Izzy. He listened with rapt attention to their travels, warning and informing where he could. He worked with Jim to increase their skill with different weapons and drank and sang with the crew with the mood took him. He was pleased with their success, and admitted he felt relief when they all landed, safe and sound. 

The crew in turn would bring trinkets back for Izzy, embrace him warmly and not put up with his shit. He was their unicorn - a symbol of survival and change. 

Even if he was still stuck with Blackbeard. 

“You ever hear of a ‘Belfry’ Izzy? In your many, many, many years haunting the seas?” Lucius asked with a shit eating grin. 

“No, but I spent my many years working, not tending to gossip,” Izzy replied, rolling his eyes. 

The dinghy was heading right towards them, and as agreed, a lone man was on it. 

“Heard Ed say he reckons it’s actually Sam Bellamy - apparently it’s an alias.” Lucius said, lighting a cigarette.”

“I’ve heard of him!” Frenchie said with excitement. “He’s like, if the gentleman Pirate thing had actually worked.”

As the crew pondered and squabbled, Izzy's mind froze and his breath caught in his chest. 

Sam Ballemy. 

Izzy pulled away from the group, standing closer to the waves and trying to pull the face from the approaching figure. 

It couldn’t be. The man was dead. The man was rich. The man was-

“He’s here!” Bonnet's shrill cry rang out, and Izzy turned to watch him hustle towards the shoreline, waving like a lunatic. “Ahoy!”

“Jesus Bonnet, stop acting like an excited poodle,” Izzy hissed. Stede just barrelled past him, meeting the man just as the small boat reached sand and spewing words everywhere. The man jumped from the boat, holding its tie and greeting Bonnet with a firm handshake. 

Izzy saw a ghost. 

The man was tall, walking with confident strides through the shallows waves and reaching the dry sand. The hair was long, threads of silver and grey weaving through dark brown. The shoulders were broad, his waist lean and limbs long. As he got closer, Izzy could pick out the shadow of stubble on his chin with a small burn on the jaw line, the line of hair above his lip bisected by a scar. He wore clothes that fit and had no rips or tears, and his coat caught the wind as he walked towards the group with Bonnet. 

Sam fucking Bellamy was dead some 15 years, but here he walked on the beach as bold as brass. As real as the sun. 

It had been 25 at least since they had last shared a path…25 years since they spoke or lay eyes on each other. 

25 years since they fucked a sad goodbye and went on their merry ways. 

And now here he was, as golden as ever. Hale and healthy and looking damn fine for a man the other side of 50. 

Izzy felt everyone of those 25 years weigh him down, and he gulped as he frantically looked around, considering if he could get away without comment while Bonnet bleated at him. 

But Sam had always been observant. Always noticed things. 

“Iz…Israel? Is that you?” 

The call got louder as Sam grew in certainty, and Izzy smiled a tight smile as he finally looked into green eyes he never fully forgot. Sam was walking towards him at speed, face splitting into a smile that showed teeth. 

“Sam,” Izzy nodded gruffly. “Good to see you.”

Izzy was overwhelmed with the compulsion to fuss over his appearance; to check his hair was tidy, his shirt clean, his beard trimmed. He grit his teeth instead, and focused on keeping a neutral expression. It turned to a shocked one when strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a hug. 

“At last, Israel Hands is before me once more,” Sam said gleefully, pulling back but keeping his arms around Izzy. “I was starting to think what I thought was a memory was a hallucination.”

“Oh, you two know each other?” Stede cut in, edging his way towards the two men. 

Sam’s glee turned warm, and his smile became a smirk. 

“Intimately,” he purred, looking Izzy in the eye. “We used to spend a lot of time together.”

Izzy pulled away, wooden leg making it stiff and awkward. 

“Decades and lifetimes ago,” he muttered, acutely aware that the crews interest had been peeked. 

“We sailed together under Hornigold for a time,” Sam offered, throwing Stede an easy smile. 

“Before Ed - and before he fucked him over,” Izzy said pointedly.

“So you are Sam Bellamy!” Stede gasped, eyes wide. 

Sam gave a sunny grin to Stede and a wink to Izzy. 

“Stared my own legacy! While the splendid and devastating Izzy Hands became a legend of the Sword. Quickest man in the Caribbean!.” 

Izzy felt a cold drop in his gut and an ache where wood pressed into his stump. He had trained hard to relearn what he could, was still fucking quick, but…

“Not anymore tho, eh?” He replied through a forced smile and a nod to his prosthetic. 

Sam's eyes dropped, catching hold of his leg and seeing it properly for the first time. His eyes didn’t linger, and no pity crossed his face to Izzys relief. Instead warmth bled into Sam's expression and he grasped the back of Izzy’s next in clear affection. A shiver wracked through Izzy at the touch, his body remembering the touch from these hands. 

“As if you would let a flesh wound like that stop you,” Sam declared loudly, leaning close to whisper, only for Izzy’s ears, “You’re still as fucking glorious as you ever were.” 

Meeting Sam’s eye, Izzy saw the young man of his youth staring back at him. Under the acquired scars, burns and stubble, was a face he was traced with his fingers. There were more lines around the eyes, deeper ones where he smiled, but the eyes and mouth were still the same as his memory. His fingers twitched to retrace their steps, feel the new texture, relearn this as much as his sword. 

“Ahem, um, maybe we should-“ Stede cut in, voice startling Izzy out of his past and present. Stepping back, clearing his throat that suddenly felt too tight, Izzy cast a glance around the crew, causing eyes to dart away and whistles to ring out. 

Nosy twats. 

“Yeah, yeah, you got business. Best get to it, we got things to do,” Izzy gruffed, ignoring Sam in favour of fussing the dinghy’s tie. “Go on. See you around Sam, nice to see you’re alive.” 

It was a dismissal, and Izzy stared at the sand while Stede awkwardly took up his role of host, derailed by the sudden drama. When the sound of the two men drifted away, Izzy let out a long breath, and his body seemed to release a tension. 

“Ok, we totally need story time, like right this second!” Lucuis declared, jolting Izzy. “That man looked at you like Stede looks at the Wee Johns frocks- story. Right now.” 

“Get fucked,” Izzy replied, not surprised as the crew gathered close. Gossipy fucking vultures. 

“Now play fair Izzy,” Olu needled. “You’ve seen all our relationship drama - time to give back.”

“No relationship, no drama,” Izzy said, not believing his own ears as he said it. “We were young. We fucked. We parted ways.”

Lucius wasn’t happy with that. Reading Izzy’s face, noting the soft mouth and the distant eyes, he knew Izzy was prime for reliving something….something! 

“How did you meet?” He asked curtly.

“I joined Hornigold and Sam was there.”

“How long did you fuck for?”

“Few years.”

“You talk outside the sex?”

“All the time,” Izzy whispered, voice growing softer, before he gave himself a shake. “But then he pissed off Horigold, took his chance and fucked off. I stayed behind, still had plenty to learn from the old dog.” 

“And you’ve never run into each other all these years?” Roach asked with a raised eyebrow. “The seas big, but not that big man.”

“Heard he died years ago,” Izzy answered with a shrug. “And believe it not, squaring up to other pirates is not always the best idea. Different ships, different circles.”

“Well now he’s here, you got a chance to…catch up,” Frenchie teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Looked like he was pretty happy to see you. And you did kinda glow for a second when he whispered to you…” 

“Honestly, I was expecting at least a snog on the sand from the way he grabbed you,” Wee John chimed in with a dreamy tone. “Kissing as the waves crashed over you...”

‘He can grab me anytime, and I’d do more than kiss him in the waves,”  Lucius said, looking back towards the house. “You got taste Izzy. And he seems far less of a cunt than Blackbeard. Mind that, that bar is on the fucking floor.”

“Fuck off all of you,” Izzy groaned, crossing his arms and trying to get the group to focus. “Sam’s here to make a deal with the Inn - nothing else. Just…just let business happen and don’t do anything to get in the way, alright? He’s…Just don’t make waves.” 

As the group hummed and gave unconvincing agreement, Izzy decided it was time for a bottle. There were many feelings he needed to drown out and he knew it was best to make himself scarce while he did. 

The past was a bitch. 

Xxx

The Inn was clean, there was a stupid amount of lace and Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet were the weirdest proprietors Sam had ever met in his life. There seemed to be no plan beyond open and let people stay for money. There were no store rooms he could see, no evidence of goods trading hands…

It was a pretty bland little Inn in the middle of nowhere. 

Sam did the smiles, read the room and agreed he would like to send business their way. He paid up front for 3 months for 3 rooms to be kept available for his men and for at least 15 to have access to the facilities and space on the beach. They could expect men in a few weeks. 

But most of his thoughts were outside the inn, tumbling over the ghost of Izzy Hands he had met on the beach. 

As such, he was quick, curt, brisk. He ignored Bonnet's attempts to get him to take tea, and only ate a polite amount before making his excuses that he wanted to explore the area a little. He waved off Bonnet's offer of a tour and congratulated them on their enterprise. 

Teach was…subdued. Quiet. By silent agreement, they didn’t mention Blackbeard or Bellamy, choosing to ignore the elephant in the room. But Teach still had an air of suspicion, and Sam didn’t like the distance in his eyes. 

But that was not his focus. 

Finally back in the sun and away from the noise that seemed to surround Bonnet, Sam listened, and caught a soft coughing noise coming from the back of an outhouse. Hand on gun, he followed it, happy to see a lone man smoking, his face familiar as one from the beach earlier. 

“One day, they will find out those things kill you,” he offered as his greeting, nodding to the smoke. 

“One day, but not today,” the man replied, eyeing him up. “Lucius Spriggs. You must be Mr Belfry - or is it Bellamy?”

“Call me Sam,” he replied smoothly, offering his hand to shake. “I was hoping you would be able to point me in Izzy’s direction?”

“Looking to get a little lucky eh Sammy?” Lucius drawled, letting smoke curl around the words. “Izzy is a fine looking silver fox.”

“Just wanting to catch up with an old friend,” Sam said, smile turning sharp. “You’re a nosy fucker arnt you?”

“I take an avid interest in all my friends and their…friends,” Lucius said, dropping the cigarette to the sand. “But…yeah. Yeah, I want to see where this goes.”

“Thanks for your approval,” Sam drawled, torn between amused and annoyed. “Which way?” 

“First things first Mr Bellamy,” Lucius said, hands on hips. “Izzy may be a feral cat, but he’s our feral cat and we kinda like him so…I’m going to need your gun. And sword. And anything else sharp and pointy you may be carrying Can’t really risk any more of him disappearing.”

“I’ve no interest in hurting him,” Sam said, a hint of insult creeping into his tone. 

“Yeah, but…no. Weapons or no tiny angry man,” Lucius said firmly, arms crossed. 

After a few beats, Sam cursed and started to unhook his gun. Swords and knives quickly appeared and were snatched up by Lucius, who was looking smug. 

“There - or do you want the nails in my boots too?” Sam asked tartly as he dropped his small dagger. 

“Nah, this is fine,” Lucius said, gathering the weapons and tossing them into an empty barrel. 

“If I wanted to kill him, I could just use my hands,” Sam pointed out, kicking himself for not letting the insult just slide. 

“My moneys on Izzy in a fist fight - indestructible little fucker that one,” Lucius replied with a small smile. “Right Sammy, let’s get you to our favourite unicorn!”

“Your what?” Sam sputtered, following the saunting man as he weaved his way through the dunes.

Xxx

The drink helped. It numbed from the brain down. Stop the pain at his stump from the hard prosthetic. Stopped the pain in his gut, crudely stitched closed. Stopped the pain at his back, his hips, his arms. 

His head. 

Izzy was only half way down his medicinal bottle when his door started the knocking. The sun was starting her decent and Izzy intended to go down with her. 

“Fuck off!” He yelled at the door. There was a beat of silence before a rhyme of constant knocking started up. 

“Jesus fuckin’…”Izzy muttered, getting to his feet. The crew has a nasty habit of bursting into places still, and Izzy has learnt quickly to put the bolt on the door if he didn’t fancy being dragged into fuckary. 

Still, a locked door wasn’t much of a challenge and Izzy always answered when the knocking  was persistent. 

“Quit it before I -“ Izzys insult was stolen from him as Lucius and Sam stood at his open door, one smiling softly and one beaming violently.

“Hey Israel,” Lucius purred with  seedy eyes. “Sam asked where you had disappeared to - figured it would be nice to show him! Help two old…friends…get reacquainted. Maybe hang around…watch…maybe join in a few …jokes or…”

“Sod off Twatty and don’t ever call me Israel again,” Izzy cut in offended to hear his name on the boys lips and mind whirling at his ex lovers appearance at his home. “Sam, I’m er, not best for company right now…place is a bit of  a pig sty. Maybe another time-“

“Absolutely fucking not,” Sam said with a sharks smile. “Come on Iz - seen you in all sorts of states in all sorts of places…let me in. Let’s catch up.” 

And with that, Sam invited himself in, sliding around Izzy with a self satisfied smirk. 

Izzy tried to form words, but gave up, choosing instead to glare at Lucius as he took a few steps out and hissed in his ear: 

“What did I fuckin’ tell you!” 

“Dunno, I never listen,” Lucius snarked back, eyes determined and pointing his finger towards the inside of the shack. “I’ve taken his gun, knives and sword - so the only weapon he’s got is the one God gave him. Get laid, and then tell me all about it. That man is hungry for you Izzy - go feed him!” 

Izzy hit the taller man shoulder in frustration, nearly falling over when he lurched too far and Lucius side stepped him. 

“Toodles Sammy baby! Don’t be a stranger!” He trilled as he walked away, hoping that he had made the right choice. 

Maybe he would hang around for a while…Just to be safe. 

Izzy clenched and unclenched his hands as he walked back through the door, incredibly aware of his messy hair and unkept face. Sam was looking around, picking up Knick-knacks and smiling. 

The shack was a single room - Izzy didn't need anything else. A table and chairs to sit and eat at, a comfy chair by the fireplace for colder times. A bed lay tucked against the far wall with a hanging sail separating it from the room and a variety of weapons, pots, pans and bare essentials lined the shelves and one lone cabinet. 

Not much to show for one lifetime, but it was his. 

“Didn’t expect company, thought you would stick with Bonnet in the main building. More…amenities then here,” Izzy said to break the silence as he started to pick up discarded shirts and empty bottles. 

“They have nicer furniture, but no you. Besides I remember when we used to make do with one hammock and a cup between us and be happy for just that,” Sam said with a fond smile. Catching Izzy's eye as he tossed trash out the window, he gave a soft sigh and said: “It’s good to see you Israel.”

Izzy took a deep breath, wishing he had had more of the bottle. 

“It’s good to see you alive Sam,” he replied, an honest smile spreading. “You’re looking very well.”

Sam spread his arms and gave a small bow. 

“And you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge,” he said, eyeing Izzy's hair with a grin. “Still the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Oh fuck off you twat, grab a seat,” Izzy grumbled, limping to the chair he had abandoned and grabbing a pair of glasses on the way. 

Sam was quick to shed his coat and soon had matched Izzy’s liquor amount. He filled the silence with his story of rags to riches, and Izzy told his tales of clawing their way to the top and the dramatic fall to now. 

Izzy was reminded of Sam’s intelligence, his determination. He saw the ambition of a young man made good. A man who could charm and harm in equal measure. That skinny young man with clever eyes and a cool head had turned into something great. 

Sam remembered how funny Izzy was. How flippant and dry. How stubborn but devoted he was, be it to cause or man. A man who would make the impossible possible by sheer will. Where once Izzy was babyfaced and hard working, he had grown such skill and determination it made Sam smile. 

They laughed at memories and gawped at the others' adventures. Sam had to take a deep breath, as Izzy told of Blackbeard's madness. Izzy bit his cheek to control his expression as Sam spoke of going down with the Whyda and nearly dying on the island he washed up on. 

A whole life…spent. 

“You know, I’ve dreamt of this many, many times Israel,” Sam said, finger circling the rim of his glass. “Finding you again, getting you alone, impressing you with what I made of myself.”

“I am impressed,” Izzy admitted, “But not surprised. You were always going to be amazing Sam.”

“You too. Everytime I heard tales of you, heard your reputation with the sword, I felt a pang and pride and thought: ‘that’s my Israel’.”

“I was…good. Great. The fucking best,” Izzy smiled, mourning all over again and tongue loosened by the alcohol and company. “That’s what hurt - about losing the leg. The fact that I will never be as good as I once was ever again. Never be as useful or needed.”

A hand reached out and long fingers draped over his where they lay curled on the table. 

“Maybe. Or, maybe you’ll be better in a different way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Izzy breathed out, giving himself a shake. Wallowing in pity was not something he wanted to do. Not right now. “Besides, I still got hands to work with and a mouth to shout with - plenty to do with just those.”

Sam raised his glass and they toasted to the truth. 

 “To carrying on out of sheer spite!” Sam declared as the ‘ting’ rang out. “And to dreams coming true!”

“Don’t imagine your dreams included running into me crippled and ugly as sin,” Izzy said, aiming for flippant but failing terribly, a familiar loathing curling around him like a tentacle. It was cut off by a broad hand gripping his chin and forcing him to meet Sam’s eyes. 

“Don’t you ever fucking say that again,” Sam hissed, fingers firm on Izzys jaw. “Nothing ugly about you - about surviving. You’re as handsome now as you were fresh and unmarked - only now you have a story to tell. One I would be very interested in hearing…”

The fingers turned soft, curling under his chin as a thumb swiped his lower lip. Izzy swallowed, stomach fluttering as Sam's eyes dropped to look at his lips. When Izzy didn’t move, Sam let his hand reluctantly drop, and leaned back in his chair. 

“As for the cripple thing? I mean yeah - you lost a leg. Occupational hazard. Least you’ll save money on shoe leather. And you can customise a fake leg - you should carve a shark's mouth around the top, really sell it.”

Izzy burst out a laugh, the image already in his head and he found himself trying to hide a giggle. 

A fucking giggle! 

But Sam was smiling at him in that soft way, pleased and proud to make Izzy smile and laugh. 

“You’re fucking magic when you laugh,” Sam sighed, leaning forward again. 

“Fuck off Sam,” Izzy shot back, insult smoothered under his smile. “You still talk utter bollocks!”

“And you’re still as stubborn as a goat,” Sam declared, nudging Izzy’s good foot with his own. “I’ll stop doing it when you stop blushing at it.”

“I do not fucking blush,” Izzy denied, taking on an affronted air. 

“You fucking do,” Sam cooed, reaching to stoke Izzy’s cheek once more. “Or you used to at least…”

As the hint of longing and regret hit Izzy’s ear, his hand snapped up, grasping Sam’s hand closer to his face, leaning into it. He closed his eyes for a second, lost in the memory of such a soft touch.

“Lot’s changed Sam. Not those daft boys with stars in their eyes now,” Izzy whispered, mourning a past he rarely thought about. “We’re different men now.”

“This hasn’t changed,” Sam whispered back, earnest and pleading. “You still make my chest hurt.” 

Izzy’s own chest clenched tight at the words, and he felt his face start to warm up. He pulled Sam’s hand away, only for Sam to grip it hard, pulling Izzy's hand towards him. 

“I don’t care a damn for what’s happened in the in-between. All I care about is here and now, you and me. C’mon Israel, I know you feel it too,” Sam pulled Izzy’s hand to his mouth, and placed a kiss on the back, his spade, his palm. “What were the odds we would find each other again in this big cruel world?” 

The odds? Fucking impossible. To survive this long. To pull through drowning, shooting, loss of limb, fires and storms. To stumble on each other on a small island with no links to the other. It was something not even worth dreaming about. 

But it happened. Sam was here. He was here and he was still funny, clever and determined. Still that young man who would whisper clever words to him or pull him close. And, he still seemed to be interested in Izzy, despite the years, the scars and the change. 

“You always talked too fucking much,” Izzy muttered before leaning close and pressing his lips to Sams, sharing breath with him for the first time in nearly 30 years. 

Sam gasped, hands moving to grip Izzy’s shoulders as Izzy held his jaw. Izzys lips were dry and chapped and the taste of liquor was sharp. But still Sam melted as he pressed into the kiss, opening his mouth and finding Izzy’s tongue. 

Izzy felt a feral desperation as he kissed and touched. The feel of warm skin on his hands, the utterly human taste of a mouth. Sam let him pull kiss after kiss, letting Izzy touch and feel and remind himself of this feeling. Of feeling wanted and being wanted back. Sam’s hand at his neck made him shiver, and he groaned as it pawed his way down his back, gripped his hip, pulling him closer. Izzy was getting lost in the raw feeling-

Until Sam grabbed his thigh and Izzy flinched with a yelped “No!”

Izzy was rough as he pushed at Sam, shoving the man away from him and breathily harshly, curling over his mutilated leg.

His mutilated, useless, ugly leg. 

No one had touched it since…since. Only Izzy knew the mass of scars and distorted skin. The heavy bruising from unforgiving wood. The spider webs of broken blood vessels. 

Izzy couldn’t let anyone see it…let anyone touch it. 

As Izzy's mind stopped its wounded spiral, he became aware of a hand holding his, a thumb tracing the back of his hand and soft words floating in the space between them. He yanked his hand back, getting to his shaking feet (foot) and taking unstable steps away. 

“Shit,” he breathed out, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t…I don’t like-“

“It’s ok Israel. It’s fine. Come…come take a seat,” Sam said softly, pouring another shot into Izzy's glass. “No means no. No explanations needed.”

Dragging in breaths through his nose, Izzy took the glass but stayed standing. Swigging it down and refilling it, he drank that too - drinking until his head went fuzzy. 

“It’s fine,” he gasped, forcing a grin, blinking as the world moved around him. “Just caught me off guard.”

Izzy slumped back into his chair, feeling like a prat. Sam still had red imprints on his jaw from his fingers and was looking at Izzy with a calm, expressionless face. 

“Does it still hurt?”

Izzy blinked, considering the question. 

“Yeah. No, just…it’s just fuckin’ ruined. I…I can still feel it sometimes, like it itching…” he sighed , suddenly feeling very tired. “Sorry.”

Sam’s mouth was tight, his eyebrows drawn close and Izzy recognised that as his thinking face. Used to see it all the time - thinking about how to get extra rations, or which but of plunder he was taking for his own. 

Izzy used to love that look. Right now, he wanted to smack it off Sam’s face. 

Before he had a chance Sam was on his feet, moving to the far wall. Before Izzy could say a word, Sam had drawn back the sail fabric, revealing the unmade bed to the candle light. 

“Come on Sweets - you’re in your cups, you’ve got to sleep it off,” Sam said, sitting on the bed to pull off his own boots.  

“Why are you taking those off?” Izzy demanded, the concept of sleep and shoeless Sam not making sense. 

Sam removed his final boot with a sigh and lay down on the mattress, shifting to the wall side and patting the space beside him. 

“Because I’m going to lay down and have a  booze snooze too. Be like old times - crammed together in a tiny hammock.”

“We were both a lot fucking skinnier back then,” Izzy snorted. 

But he was tired. The drink was sitting in his belly and his leg was hurting. And this was Sam. He had bared his back, his throat, his gut to Sam many times and been safer for it. Safer for the company. 

It was lonely on land. No one was awake at night. 

Sam was the first man he had ever been vulnerable with and not walked away with a scar for his trouble. 

Izzy really hoped that hadn’t changed in the 25 years. 

Muttering under his breath about ‘intrusive twats’ and ‘bed hogging lumps’ Izzy made his way to his bed, sitting with a sigh. He debated if he should leave his wooden leg on, but the weight was uncomfortable at night. So he undid the straps, making sure his trousers covered the stump before swinging around and laying next to Sam, staring dizzily at the ceiling. 

“Well this is fucking cosy,” he mumbled, smiling as he felt the bed move with Sam’s laughter. Sam continued to move, wrapping an arm over Izzy’s stomach and resting his head on his shoulder. 

Cuddling him. 

“You missed your calling as a pillow Iz, comfiest place in the world,” Sam whispered, kissing his shoulder and placing a hand on his chest. “And your tits have grown massive!” 

Izzy laughed so much he stomach ached. 

“Shut up,” he groaned, tilting his head to lay against Sams. 

“I'm serious,” Sam said, cupping a feel. “Strong as fuck now Iz. Think you could even beat me in a tussle.”

“Could always beat you,” Izzy scoffed, shuffling his arm to wrap under Sam, hand seeking out long strands. “The long hair is nice. You always wanted it down your back.”

“Emergency rope,” they said together, chuckling as Sam's decade old excuse. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re here,” Sam breathed into Izzys neck. “In the weirdest fucking set up on the globe…something going on with you and Teach? Or Bonnet? Both?”

“Nah,” Izzy sighed. “Just…how things ended up.” 

“That Lucius is a mouthy piece.”

“He’s a good lad. They all. Even if they are more annoying than tics at times…”

The wind picked up outside and the candles flickered. Izzy closed his eyes, just resting. Seeing Sam, revisiting old times. It was nice. A type of closure. Sam Bellamy was still fond of him, even if it was only passing. 

Time passed and words stopped, replaced by Izzy stroking soft hair and Sam nuzzling into Izzy's shoulder. There was contentment in the air. A sense of belonging. A blessed nothing except comfort and warmth, easy and uncomplicated. 

It was nice. 

“I have to be back at my ship tonight,” Sam said, voice a low rumble. “Got things to…plan.”

“You booking into Bonnet and BlackBeard Bed and Breakfast and fishing gear then?” Izzy asked, dozy from the shared body heat. He had missed this; missed the feel of a body pressed close,  missed shared warmth and feeling the weight of another body next to his. 

“Aye, the boys will be pleased to add a safe space to route,” Sam agreed, kissing Izzys neck. “I would stay if I had a choice…”

Izzy allowed himself a sad smile in the dark. 

“Always rushing off for better things eh Sam? Didn’t even get your leg over this time,” he teased, hiding a hurt. “It’s fine. It was good to see you. Now off you fuck.”

He was not expecting the arms holding him to tighten, crushing him close to the other man's chest. Nor was he expecting the flurry of kisses that travelled from his shoulder to his cheek. Gasping and squishing his eyes closed, he turned willing in greedy hands and moaned into Sam’s mouth as it breathed him in once more. 

“I’ll be back,” Sam promised against his lips. “Know where you are now. Keep the bed warm for me Israel, I’ll be back in it before you know it.”

Xxx

“How was your little reunion?”

Spinning on his heel, Sam swung towards the voice, startling Lucius who let out a squeal as he ducked.

“What the fuck!” Lucius shouted, crawling backwards out of reach. 

“You do not sneak up on people!” Sam gasped, “That’s fucking…obvious!”

“Don’t be mad at me, cos you weren't paying attention,” Lucius bitched as he got back to his feet. He has listened since Izzy and Sam closed the door, staying close enough to know if things go wrong. After hearing a loud ‘no!’ He had almost rushed the door, but made do with checking the window, pleased to see Izzy on his feet and Sam calm and seated. 

“Well next time a little warning please,” Sam said. “Christ I hope your bleating didn’t wake up Israel.”

“A mouse wakes that man up, but if he’s been drinking he sleeps like the dead,” Lucuis said, crossing his arms and looking the other man over. “You er…get what you wanted?”

Sam let out a slow sigh. He didn’t have time for this pups yapping, but Izzy liked him. Said he was a good boy. 

“Don’t see how that's your business. But…Izzy and I have no bad blood. You don’t have to act like a guard dog when I come round. Just let, let us work it out.”

With that, Sam spun on his heel and continued to the beach, hoping no one had gotten twitchy and jumped on his lack of signal as a reason to act stupid. 

He had been much longer than anticipated. 

“So you’re coming back?” Lucuis confirmed, following along at pace. 

“Yes I am,” Sam said, mind busy and eyes forced on the horizon. 

He was so focused, that when Lucius rushed to stand in front of him, he nearly run him over.

“Why are you always in the way?” Sam groaned, “You’re going soon yeah? I mean you're going out with the other boat soon, you’re not here all the time?”

Lucius ignored that comment, instead locking eyes with Sam and pulling himself to his full height. 

“Listen to me. Izzy is…Izzy is one of us. He’s ours. We look out for each other. So, if you have any intentions of hurting him or fucking him over you can disappear right now. Because that man deserves more than to be used up and tossed aside by cocky pirates who only think of themselves!” 

Sam grit his teeth and took a long breath through his nose. The boy was a stranger, didn’t know him and suspicion was a reasonable stance. And clearly, he cared about Izzy…

“I have never hurt Israel Hands in my life. I have no intention of making his life harder - quite the opposite. We parted ways some 20 odd years ago - I’m just trying to pick up where we left off.”

Lucius stared at him, before chewing his lip and nodding. 

“Fine. Fine…you’re stuff still in the barrel. Just wave the seagull away - he likes shiny things.”

Sam moved around Lucius’s, heading towards the beach and the dinghy. 

“I’ll come back for them,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Look after Izzy for me!” 

Xxx

Sam rowed to the boat quickly, landing and deck and waving down the cannons. 

“Change of plan,” Sam said, heading right for the captain's cabin. “Leave Bonnet and Blackbeard to it - it’s not worth my time.”

“Eh?” Talbot questioned, falling in step behind Sam. “What changed your mind? The whole point was to assess and remove them - they got a hidden army or what?”

“Nope,” Sam replied with a pop, unravelling maps on the captain's desk and consulting several inventory books. “They are just two people trying something new. Add this place to approved routes - advance notice preferred. Make it an essential part of a drop. Pay whatever price they set and don’t bother trying to barter them down. Just get lads here. ”

“Why?” Talbot asked, disbelief apparent. “If they're not a threat then, that’s one thing, but why bother getting involved with whatever they got going on?”

Sam took out fresh parchment, reaching for a quill as he settled himself down. 

“Because they have the only thing I ever truly wanted on that island with them. I can’t take it by force, so I need good relations all round. No naughty boys and no fuck abouts”. 

“They got the fountain of youth there or something?” Talbot scoffed, busying himself with lighting fresh candles. 

“No,” Sam sighed, the frantic energy that had boarded the desk with him breaking away. “No…they have a man I never thought I would have a second chance with…”

Silence rang out in the cabin. Rhys Talbot sat down opposite his captain, his friend, and waited for the story that was about to be told. 

And the plan that was pushing at Sam Bellamy's skin. 

Chapter Text

“You really think he’s going to come back?” Wee John asked without looking up from his sewing. 

“Said he would,” Lucius shrugged. “Seemed serious.”

“This could be good though - I mean Izzy did seem pleased to see him?” Olu said. 

The crew were huddled together around a fire. Izzy had got back to his shack, and Stede and Ed were in the inn. But Lucius had called an emergency meeting, filling them in on what happened. 

“Yeah, but Izzy has stupid taste in men. And if Sam’s as rich as the legends say, why is he buying rooms at a shitty little Inn in the middle of nowhere?” 

“Supporter of local economies?” Frenchie quipped. 

“Ok, what do you want us to do,” Olu cut in, sleep calling to him. 

Lucuis said nothing, not having a plan to speak of, just a worry. 

“We stay.”

Jims voice rang out clear and sure. 

“We take it in turns staying back between runs. Someone’s always here keeping an eye on things. If this guy comes back, we have eyes and can make sure Iz is ok. If he doesn’t show after…6 months? We’ll reassess. Just don’t let Izzy know why we are staying back; he’ll just flip.”

It was a good plan, and the group nodded in agreement. 

Xxx

Izzy had always had a knack for fishing. He enjoyed the calm and the still. The wait and pounce. Hitting the shore once more, he took his catch for the week with gusto, taking a few seconds to enjoy the feel of the sun on his back and the salt in the air. 

It wasn’t all bad. 

Food, while not exactly plentiful, was still easy enough to require. There were farms and a tiny town a few miles away where they could get flour and the like. The sea gave them fish and both Stede and Izzy grew small fruits and vegetables which were hardy under the sun. Izzy didn’t mind that work, and took pleasure in thriving in this small way. 

Even Bonnet seemed to enjoy this aspect of a poor man's life. 

So Izzy wasn’t surprised to see Stede approaching , fishing line over his shoulder and bucket in hand. What was surprising was the look on his face. 

“You look like someone pissed in your breakfast this morning,” Izzy called out by way of greeting. 

“Izzy! No, no piss this morning,” Stede chirped, genuinely pleased to see the other man. “Looks like the fish are eager?”

“Aye, suicidal little bastards.”

“Well let’s hope so! Got word from the Prince’s men - expecting visitors in the next few days! Got to restock and make sure we show them the best time!”

Stede had taken to calling Sam, and anything to do with him ‘Prince’. No matter how many times Izzy and Ed told it was just a nickname, earned in legend more than deed, he still insisted. He found it rather fun. 

“Just keep them fed and watered Bonnet,” Izzy said with a hint of exasperation. “Ed planning to try and flog them some fishing gear?”

A shadow passed across Stede’s face. 

“No, er, not that I’m aware of. He’s um, feeling a bit peaky. We were supposed to fish together today - twice the rods, twice the catch, but he just…didn’t feel up to it.”

“He has moods. They pass.” Izzy knew this. Bonnet knew this. All there was to do was weather the storm. 

Izzy bit his tongue to stop himself offering to keep Bonnet company. He steeled his resolve to not go and visit Ed. It had nothing to do with him. The First Mate retired with the captain - there was no need for him to fix life anymore. 

As he continued towards his shack, the crew's words about ‘boundaries’ and ‘not enabling’ flittered through his head. 

Xxx

“Are you pair going to be of any use on this stupid ‘vacation’, or are you just going to bother me the whole bloody time?” 

“Come on Iz-man!” Frenchie grinned, untangling the net from his hand. “You’re not meant to be useful on vacation.”

Izzy rolled his eyes and tugged the messy nets away from the bard's hands, pulling a face at the tangle the lanky man had created. 

“Don’t see why you have to hang out here, haven’t you anywhere better to be?”

“Nah,” Roach cut in, not bothering to look up from his fire and grill. “Stede and Ed are all in a tizzy about the guests arriving. Besides, you better stop complaining or you're not going to get any of this chicken.”

The smell that drifted over made Izzy bite his tongue. 

The crew often cooked and ate together still, inviting Izzy and usually preparing him a plate regardless of if he joined them to eat or not. So, when the two joined Izzy as he fixed the fishing nets, he was not surprised when Roach got the fire going, or Frenchie started to peel potatoes. 

It was just the sort of thing they did now. 

“Oh - I see a boat - it’s a big boy as well,” Frenchie said, causing everyone’s eyes to snap to the horizon. 

They watched, commentary flowing as it approached and boats were lowered to the ocean. 10 or so men reached the beach, and the large boat that brought them began to drift away, much to Izzy’s confusion. 

“Think your er, friend, is going to be with them?” Frenchie asked, looking at Izzy out of the corner of his eye. 

“Lucius’s new nickname is gobshite”, Izzy said with exasperation. “What’s that nosy twat been saying?”

Frenchie shrugged, hands raised in submission. 

“Nothin’. Just that that Sam guy may be around with his crew. Did he really fake his own death?”

Sam had told Izzy about going down with the Whyda, almost drowning to end up almost starving to death on an island until another boat found him. His choice to stay dead opened up a new life for him. Izzy had been reminded of Ed’s original plan to kill Bonnet and hide behind a corpse as well. Bonnet's own exaggerated death scene with the tiger. 

Great minds seemed to think alike. 

“It’s more common than you think,” Izzy said after a pause, watching men flutter onto the beach. 

The three watched the shapes draw closer to the Inn, their perce on the bank keeping them close enough to watch but far away enough to not encourage a wanderer. But then, one body broke away from the group, a large sack carried on his back. 

Roach and Frenchie watched, subtle as a cannon, as Izzy leaned forward, trying to make out the face of the approaching stranger. 

Only three men he knew could walk with that swagger - one was up to his tits in boiled lobster at the moment, the other was dead, and the third called out to him with a cheer. 

Sam was back.

“What are you doing back here?” Izzy called out, a smile fighting to break free. 

“Said I’d be back,” Sam said with a wide grin as he hauled himself up the bank. “Some boys were trying out the B&B and I came along with them. Changing ships - this is a halfway point and cuts the swap time in half.”

“So you’re choosing to stay at a crappy B&B, rather than hang out on a ship with a captain's cabin?” Izzy said with suspicion. 

“Well, never send your men somewhere you wouldn’t go yourself. Besides, I was hoping I could bunk with you,” Sam with a smirk. “Didn’t get much time to catch up when I was here before and I wanted to remedy that.”

Before Izzy could speak again, Frenchie popped up between them, hand out and smiling wide. 

“Hi, sorry to butt in, but hi, I’m Frenchie, a very dear and very dangerous friend of Izzy. The man behind me with the big knife - that's Roach, another dear, but dangerous friend.”

Roach grinned letting the cleaver glint in the sunlight. 

“Hi there.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of them as he grabbed Frenchies outthrust hand. 

“Sam Bellamy, also a dangerous friend of Izzy’s. You’re both pally with Lucius aren't you?”

The three men were smiling so wide Izzy thought they looked like mad men. 

“Whatever is going on here,” he said, gesturing between the men, “stop it. It’s freaking me out and you all look demented. What’s in the bag Sam? You brought enough for a change of clothes three times a day? Bonnet does like people to dress nicely for dinner.”

Finally turning from Frenchie, smile turning soft again as Izzy was once more his focus, Sam hauled his bag from his shoulder to land at the sand between their feet. 

“Brought some bits and pieces for you. Linens, tools, razors, books - bit of everything. And new boots,” Sam reeled off, keeping eye contact as he sat down next to Izzy. “Well, one boot anyway - seemed a waste to bring both. I’m using its brother as a plant pot. ” 

As Izzy argued, telling Sam he didn’t need anything and Sam argued back that gifts were not an insult and just to accept the free stuff, Roach met Frenchies eye, raising an eyebrow.

This looked promising. 

Xxx

“Admittedly, you have better taste then Bonnet, but all this was still frivolous,” Izzy admitted as he stood back to admire the new fabric that separated the bed from the room. It was a bearable shade of blue, matching the new bed linen and blanket Sam had revealed with a flourish. 

“Man doesn’t seem that bad. Bit weird, but aren't we all,” Sam said, as he finished washing their plates and ignoring Izzy's comment on the gifts. 

The meal had been simple but at least it had been just the pair of them. After an hour or so after Sam’s arrival, Izzy had all but chased his two keepers from the shack, telling them not to dare show their faces until the morning. So he ended up cooking for them both when the sun went down.

“He’s a fucking lunatic,” Izzy smiled with a shake of his head. “Got a spine though. That’s a rare thing in his breed.”

There were now cushions on the chairs, which made Izzy's hip cease its almost constant throb. It may have been unasked for, but Izzy wasn’t going to spite himself by turning away Sam’s gifts. The candles were lit, giving the shack a golden glow and Izzy smiled as he watched Sam finish putting away their cutlery. 

“When did you get all domestic?” He asked with a smirk. “Someone’s got you well trained.”

“That would be my cousin Millie - remember her? Bawdy lass with a dirty laugh?”

“God yeah,” Izzy grinned, remembering a small woman with a big…heart. “You living together?”

“Live on the same island. She gave up her working ways when I needed a nanny. Trained me on how to be a landlubber.”

“You got a kid?” Izzy repeated, eyebrows in his hairline. 

Sam proudly smiled, sitting at the table next to Izzy and kicking his feet out. 

“Didn’t make him. He was a cabin boy who tried his luck. I liked him - reminded me of me. So I took him under my wing. John King’s his name - my little heir apparent. He’s nearly 20 now, a man on his own.”

“He’s in the business?” Izzy asked, pleased for Sam's obvious fatherly affection. 

“In a way. Run’s a few legitimate merchant ships which are…flexible in how they get goods and what they’ll run. He’s a good man. I’m proud of him.”

“You ever marry?” Izzy probed. 

Sam nodded. 

“Yeah, gave it a go. Moria- lovely women. But, there was really only a friendly fondness between us. She was…too nice. Too pure and clean. Felt like I couldn’t bring everything out, be myself. What about you? Any little Izzy’s or lovers in the wings.”

Izzy shook his head. 

“Always too busy for that. Whores and easy company was my way, and no one claimed I’d fathered their kids so…”

Izzy didn’t really mourn the lack of wife or child. A wife would deserve a commitment and focus he couldn’t spare and children needed more than he was able to give. 

Still, over the years he had seen enough young pups turn into fine sea dogs - that was the fatherhood he could claim. 

“So, no competition I have to worry about then?” 

Izzy caught the look in Sam’s eye, feeling a slither of excitement run through him. He knew that look - remembered it well. It promised him things. It was that look that got him into Sam’s hammock all those years ago. 

And it had been fucking ages since he last had a shag…Fuck it. A man had needs. 

“Only from my right hand,” Izzy said, voice dropping low and giving Sam a filthy smile and staring at Sam’s mouth. 

Sam grinned and grabbed the seat of Izzy’s chair, dragging it and the man closer to him. 

“I think I can beat that - I got two hands and a whole lot of extras.”

The kiss was hard, greedy. Izzy grabbed at Sam's shoulders, wrapping his arms tight as Sam clutched at his waist. Mouths quickly became slick and Sam hauled Izzy to his feet, dragging his lips back to his when Izzy was steady. 

“So, any new rules?” Sam panted into Izzy’s mouth, herding the shorter man  back towards the bed. “Don’t touch the leg?”

Izzy took a second, the fuzzy feeling in his mind and limbs making him feel slow. His lips tingled and his cock, long neglected, was suddenly very keen in being noticed. 

“Lights off, I’m under and ignore the leg,” he said quickly, before pulling Sam back into another kiss. God he tasted so good . 

“But I want to see,” Sam complained against his lips. “Want to look at you.”

“Lights off,” Izzy insisted, turning to puff away the lamplight closest to the bed. “Get the others, and give me time to remove the leg and me kit.”

Izzy ended his command with another kiss, and Sam gave a nip to the lips. 

“Fine,” he whispered, not willing to fight or talk or delay. “Be quick.”

Sam started to strip as he walked around the room, pinching out the flames. Something told him to keep his eyes away from Izzy while he undressed, and given the last time they tried this, he listened to them. 

Finally the room was dark, only the stars helping guide their way. Sam dropped his breeches and kicked them away, before he turned to the bed, groaning when hands grabbed him and steered him onto a warm, pliant body. 

Shifting, letting Izzy guide him into place, Sam found lips again as he settled, straddling Izzy's good leg and balancing himself on his elbows. 

Izzy buried his hands in long hair, groaning as the weight pressed into him. He fought the instinct to grab Sam with his thighs, trying to keep his mangled leg still and out of the way. Sam freed his lips, kissing his face, his neck, his shoulders and Izzy sighed into the feeling. 

“Fuck me, I remember this,” Sam sighed as he ran a hand all over Izzy’s chest and stomach. The coarse hair was thicker now, a small blanket of texture and warmth. Firm muscle lay under the skin, enticing Sam to grab and bite. He wanted to bury his face against Izzy’s chest, smell nothing but Izzy and feel all those textures on his lips. Before he could move himself to do so, his hands felt hard nubs and harder metal. 

“Piercings too,” Sam groaned, fingers moving quickly to roll and rub. “Christ you’re like a dream.”

Izzy choked out a moan, hips thrusting up into Sam, as the other man bent and took his nipple in his mouth. 

Fucker remembered they were sensitive. 

Izzy felt himself babble as a wet tongue teased him and a hot mouth sucked. His whole body felt like it was shaking, hyper aware after so long without such a touch. The mouth moved with a frantic need, dropping down every so often to nip at his belly or up at his collarbones. Hands were gripping his hips hard, pinning him to bed as he shuddered and twitched. 

A flash of pleasure so sharp it hurt, shot through him and he grabbed at Sam's hair, pulling the mouth away from his chest and smashing his mouth against Sams, sucking on that clever tongue and squeezing him hard. Pulling back, Sam followed his mouth, panting against his lips and Izzy heard a whispered ‘sorry’. 

“Huh,” Izzy breathed, but then Sam’s hand squeezed and he understood. 

Sam’s hand had moved from his waist to his outer thigh. The one that ended in a mangled mess. 

The palm was hot, holding muscle while fingertips gripped. Caught up, Izzy had moved his leg, and it was now pressed against Sam's hips, the skin of his inner thighs feeling heat as they gripped Sam as tight as his arms. Their cocks lay together, caught between their stomachs and Izzy’s hips bucked as their position became clear. 

“Do you want me to let go?” Sam said, sounding strained as he put his all into keeping still. Giving Izzy time. “It just happened.”

Izzy was surrounded by warmth. The smell of another man. He still had the taste of him on his lips and the evidence of his desire digging into his hip. He wanted Sam, wanted this. Izzy licked his lips, taking in another breath and he pulled Sam into a soft press of lips. 

It was a sweet kiss - slow and deep. Izzy held his breath as he tensed his thighs around Sam’s hips, moaning as it gave him the leverage to grind up, feeling Sam's fingers digging in. Seems the leg wasn’t entirely useless in this situation. Pulling free from the kiss, Izzy made his choice.

“It’s…it’s fine,” he breathed, nosing Sam's cheek. “Just…just fuck me. Like this.”

The hand at his thigh gripped hard and Izzy was unable to say another word for the rest of the night. 

Xxx

25 years ago

Sam looked for Izzy with a single mindedness. Peering into rooms, making note of who was where, he finally found Izzy tucked away in the hold, practising his sword. Sam took a moment to admire the body before him - the dark hair on the chest, the unmarked face. Israel Hands was a handsome man and life on ship was already turning his body into a machine. The puppy fat was not long behind him, sculpting muscles as its grave stone. 

Fuck, he wanted him. 

“You just gonna stare at me all day?” 

Sam gave a lazy smile. Izzy was teasing. He had been for weeks - the clever eyes knowing what was not being said. He knew Sam’s eyes were more than friendly when they looked at him.

Tart.

“Do more than stare if you let me,” he flirted back, walking into the space like he owned it. 

Izzy downed his sword, turning to look at Sam with a tilt to the head that made him look coy. He took easy strides towards Sam, shirtless body shining with sweat. The smile may be sweet, but Sam knew it was anything but. 

“Oh yeah? And what grand ideas are you brewing in that pretty head of yours Mr Bellamy,” he purred, pinning Sam with his eyes and a sly smile. 

Sam grabbed him, a hard kiss making it clear as crystal what he wanted. Pulling back for a second, giving Izzy a chance to punch or run, Sam trailed his fingers down Izzy's chest, circling his navel. 

“Ideas you put there, you fucking strumpet” he breathed out, pushing Izzy back when he didn’t move, herding him towards a pile of broken sails. “Any problems with that?”

He groaned as Izzy grabbed his hips and pulled them flush against him. 

“Yeah,” Izzy whispered. “My problem is you talk to fucking much.”

Sam stopped talking. 

Xxx

Izzy woke to the sound of rain, the heavy drum sang outside, easing him from sleep. The air smelt clean and the slight chill was pleasant. 

There was a heat at his back, more comforting than the blanket that covered him. A strong arm hung over his waist, hand pressed to his stomach. Breath was at his neck, slow and steady, indicating his bed partner was still asleep. The feel of an aroused cock at his backside made him smile, and he gave a wiggle, smirking as the hand gripped him tighter and a small ache bloomed at his lower back. 

Somethings never change.

The rain meant there would be little to do today, so Izzy was content just to doze, gorging on the warmth and comfort he had awoken in. Wrapped in his blanket, Izzy felt a slight concern at the fresh light pouring in, knowing he couldn’t hide in the dark at the moment. But he was too comfortable to think about that now. 

Some time later, Sam’s breathing changed. Then Izzy felt lips press into his shoulder, the long line of a smile while the hand at his stomach started to move, gently stroking skin. 

“Morning,” Izzy whispered. 

“Mmmm,” Sam pressed into his skin, curling his body around Izzy and pulled him tighter into his chest. “Rains come. Let’s stay here all day.”

“I got to piss.”

“It’s always something with you.” 

They stayed wrapped together a little longer, until the call of nature became too loud. Izzy sent Sam out first, using the opportunity to pull on his shirt and trousers, not bothering with the leg just yet. Instead, he used his crutch , balancing with one hand against the wall outside, grateful he had extended the roof out to provide some shelter against downpours. 

Like fuck was he going to the outhouse in this if he could help it. 

Shivering as he hopped back into the shack, feeling little water drops leap from his hair to his neck, he was happily surprised to see Sam had started a fire and was boiling a pot of water. 

“Black,” Izzy said, communicating his coffee order, swinging towards the bed. Despite feeling oddly rested, there was still a haze around his mind and a tiredness in his body. 

“I know how you take it,” Sam shot back, dressed in his own clothes once more but wonderfully dishevelled from how he tossed them away the night before. 

“Could have developed a taste for something sweeter,” Izzy said back with a grin. “Learned to take milk with it.”

“Milk makes you sprew - time will never change that,” Sam replied, not bothering to turn. “I am never cleaning you up after milk ever again.”

Izzy reached for his wooden leg, muttering under his breath about ‘bad milk’ and ‘it was clearly rotten’. He steeled himself as he tucked the trouser leg under his stump, noting the stains on the fabric and the holes threatening to tear through. 

He would need to use that sewing kit Sam brought. 

Taking deep breaths, he slotted his stump into the cup of the leg, winching at the sharp pain. When it dulled to a throb, he tied the straps carefully, pulling tight so it gripped his leg like a vice through the cotton. It wasn’t as secure as direct on the skin, but Izzy wasn’t planning on leaving the shack today. It would do. 

“Coffees up,” Sam said, pulling Izzy from the routine that marked his mornings. Izzy eyed the cups on the table, and prepared himself for the usual raw pain that accompanied his first steps. 

Putting his weight on his good leg, he rose from the bed with a grunt, pouring more pressure onto the bad leg, biting his cheek against the sharp stings. 

It would pass. 

The sharpness dulling, Izzy took a step forward with the bad leg-

Agony screamed through him, twisting Izzy’s face and a cry burst out as he collapsed back to the bed, gripping his leg and panting as waves of pain washed through him. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, hurrying to the bed as Izzy panted and groaned, trying to find the source of the sudden pain. 

“Fuck,” Izzy spat, dragging in breaths through his nose as he frantically tore at the legs straps. He cried out as the leg dropped free, hands gripping harshly into the meat of his thigh. 

“Cramp? Splinter? Izzy, what-“

“I”m fine!” Izzy spat out, the grip of pain holding tight as he massaged his leg. “Just fucking sore!”

It hurt every day. Most days it was manageable, a pain that just became background noise. But the flare ups - the torture of pressure on the stump, the cramping of a limb no longer there - it was soul destroying. 

“What can I do?”

The honest question shook Izzy from his focus on the pain, and he looked to see green eyes pleading with him to tell him what to do. 

“Bottle - top self. Need something strong,” he admitted with stilted speech.

Sam silently got the bottle and grabbed a glass - Izzy just took it straight from the long neck, sinking back to the bed with a groan. 

“Looks like it’s a crutch day,” he mumbled, face taunt in pain. The thought of even attempting to put the leg back on made him feel sick. 

“Can I look. At your stump,” Sam asked, staring at the shape hidden beneath cloth. “I’ve seen my fair share of missing legs and arms Israel. It’s not going to bother me.”

“Nah, it’s fine-“

“Fucks sake Israel!” Sam hissed, temper escaping. “It’s hardly a fucking secret! Hiding it’s not going to help fuck all if you don’t actually look at the bastard! And, unless you’ve got more flexible over the years - it will be easier if someone else does it!” 

Izzy let out a snarl, the urge to bare teeth and fight flooding him. But then another wave of cramp hit him and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

“There is nothing to fucking be done,” he grit out, panting through the pain. “It’s hardly going to grow back!” 

“Heat. Cold. Pressure, no pressure, massage, elevation, stretching - lots of things to try!” Sam pressed. “I could get your boys - the french one and the scary one. Just…just try something!” 

Izzy had tried nothing. The leg was taken, the wooden one was gifted and life went on. There was no time for anything else. The cramps and phantom pains had really only started once they left ship, the pain of torn skin being replaced by something Izzy couldn’t see. The only thing that helped was to numb it with drink, but even that made his head ache and his stomach rot. 

Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. 

“Should have let me die,” he whispered to himself, rubbing his face. Staring at the ceiling, noting the damn patch that was forming, he huffed and said loudly: “Fine. Look - get a rag I think somethings bleeding.”

With a nod, Sam took to task, finding a cleanish rag and soaking it with the remaining water from the pot. Izzy shuffled himself, stripping his trousers back off with a practised eased as he lay back, swearing as raw skin was pulled and muscles quivered. His thigh looked like an abused slab of meat, feeling heavy on his hip. 

Silence grew between them, and Sam settled himself at the foot of the bed, peering at the severed limb for several moments. With a questioning gaze, he reached out, and Izzy looked away as Sams warm hand touched distressed flesh. The rag was swiped across the skin quickly, and Izzys breath hitched at every pass. 

“You’re right - it was bleeding. Got a patch of broken skin that’s weeping and scabbed. Needs airing out. Give me the bottle.”

Izzy passed it over, gritting his teeth when Sam poured it over his leg and then snatching it back for a long pull. 

“Well thank you Dr Bellamy,” Izzy snarked, already tired of a day that had started so well. “Fucking knew that without you, you twat!” 

Sam ignored Izzy's complaints, grabbing a pillow and tugging Izzys thigh to raise before dropping it on the soft surface. His hand didn’t leave the flesh, instead the other joined and pressed firmly, rolling the fluttering muscle with his thumbs. Izzy let out a curse and a groan, but when no insults were forthcoming, Sam continued. 

The bruising was awful, the skin a canvas of blacks, blues and greens. The imprint of buckle from the straps. The scars were puckered and rubbed raw, a mess of scabs and broken skin which oozed clear fluid. There was no localised heat, which was a relief, but still Sam was planning to raid the medical box he knew one of the boys had brought with them. 

Sam pulled himself from his thoughts as he noticed Izzy had gone quiet. The man was breathing slowly, steadily, his eyes half closed as he rolled flesh, warming it in his hands. 

“This ok?” He asked, making his way up towards the hip and tracing knots.

“Yeah,” Izzy said with a hitch in his breath. “Yeah. It’s…it’s helping.”

“The height? The heat? The pressure?” Sam pushed. 

“Dunno,” Izzy shrugged with a shake of his head. 

“Well that’s helpful,” Sam said, relaxing now he felt useful. “This happen often?”

“Often enough,” Izzy replied. “I just use the crutch for a few days until it’s manageable again.”

“Manageable, but not fixed?”

“Can’t fix something that’s gone.”

Sam let his annoyance out through his nose. Izzy had always ignored his own pain. Pushed through every discomfort and saw doctors as people you only saw when you were dying. He had screamed at Izzy, decades ago, when he found the other man stiching his own bicep closed, using a bit of leather to mask his cries. 

Izzy just took whatever life threw at him and carried on. Seems that hadn’t changed in all these years. 

Sam started his massage again, pulling down this time instead of up. Looking at Izzy's face, he saw the unfurrowed brow, the parted lips and realised Izzy was falling asleep. 

“Stubborn prick,” Sam whispered affectionately.

“Pig headed prat,” Izzy mumbled, smile tugging at his lips before he let himself fall asleep. 

Sam kept going until his hands started to cramp. He covered Izzy with the blue blanket, curling his fingers to stop himself from touching Izzy’s face. 

The rain will still coming down, and Sam sat himself in the more comfortable chair, thinking and planning as their coffees grew cold. He picked up Izzy’s leg from where it fell, wincing at the stain of blood in the wooden cup, the unforgiving nature of the solid wood. 

Soon, a sound caught his eye that was out of sync with the world. A wet slapping noise. Tucking the leg by the bed, he looked out the window, seeing a figure dashing through the rain, coat over their head. Heading for the door, casting one more glance at Izzy, Sam made a choice as the body approached the door. 

Sam yanked it open, pulling the bard through it before it could knock, and slapping his hand over their mouth. 

“Shhh…shhh,” he said, nodding to the bed, as he removed his hand. “What do you want?”

Frenchie blinked, heart galloping in his chest at the perceived threat which was now gone. He kept his eyes on Izzy's chest, checking it was moving up and down. 

“Just checking in,” he whispered, turning to smile sweetly at Sam. Sam's hair was a mess, and there was a bruise at his neck that left nothing to the imagination as to what he and Izzy had got up to last night. “You tired the old dog out Sammy baby?”

Sam’s mouth twitched, and he shook his head. Izzy’s old crew were fucking weird - no fear or common sense between them. 

Still, the sudden appearance of Frenchie made things easier…

“I need a favour.”

Xxx

Fair play, the young man listened well and acted quickly. 

He returned just after Izzy woke up, soaked to the bone and with Roach in tow. They didn’t bother to knock this time, walking right in, and smiling when they saw Izzy awake and sitting in his more comfortable chair, sans leg.

“Morning lover boy,” Frenchie sang. “Bit wet out there. Sam - here.” 

He handed Sam a case, which was quickly opened. 

“Yeah, the guy was confused but it was an easy job,” Frenchie offered, moving aside to let Roach dump his wrapped packages on the table. 

“Doesn’t anyone fucking knock on this island,” Izzy groused, shifting to eye everyone. “What’s that, and what’s that?”

“That,” Roach cut in, pointing to the table, “Is breakfast. Eat it quickly, it should still be warm. Sausage, bacon and bread…you both need your strength.”

Izzy flipped him the finger, grabbing one of the sandwiches and unwrapping it. Seemed daft to deny or let the comment fluster him - it was obvious Sam was here for a fuck. At least Roach brought food. 

“And what have you two been up to?” He asked around his mouthful, giving them both a suspicious glare. “When did you two even fucking speak without me knowing?” 

“He came when you were sleeping,” Sam said, picking through the case and squinting at labels. “Got a medical man on the island - never goes anywhere without his stuff. Figured some proper doctor medicines would be handy to keep close.”

“Let me look,” Roach demanded, looming into Sam’s space. “I’m the doctor/cook here.”

Together, they selected various objects - vials, bandages, oils and herbs and tucked them away next to Izzy's bed. 

“Your leg bothering you?” Frenchie asked softly as the pair worked. Izzy was staring at them with a strange expression, and it made him worried. 

“Can’t bother me - it’s not there,” Izzy said. “It’s fine. What’s happening at the Inn?” 

Frenchie filled Izzy in on Bonnet being up to his eyeballs and Ed struggling to keep on task with so many people about who wanted different things from him. 

“He‘ll get the hang of it,” Izzy said, finishing his meal. “Bonnet roped you in to help?”

“Didn’t let him see me,” Frenchie grinned. “Besides, don’t think they could afford my price.”

Before Izzy could comment, Roach slapped his shoulder and leaned over him menacingly. 

“Let’s have a look then.”

Xxx

The evening drew in and still the crew stayed. The candles were lit and the cards came out. 

“That stuff stinks,” Frenchie complained for the fifth time as he shuffled the cards. 

“Stop moaning,” Izzy groaned. “It’s not you the stuff is slathered on!” 

“Both of you shut up - Izzy, it will help the sores just deal with it,” Sam cut in, counting his winner's coin. “It’s good stuff, right Roach?”

“Grade A,” Roach agreed, pocketing a hidden ace. “It’s also a fantastic to season fish with.”

“So does that make Izzy a mermaid as well as a unicorn?” Frenchie asked. 

“Fuck off and die,” Izzy spat out. 

“Why does everyone call you a unicorn!” Sam begged. 

The evening passed well, with cards and company. The rain started to slow until it stopped, clear skies blooming once more. 

Once more, Izzy fell asleep with Sam at his back, but this time, he had a pillow under his thigh, resting his hip. 

He slept like a baby. 

Xxx

The restful sleep did wonders for Izzy. Forgoing the leg, he had grabbed his crutch and told Sam he was going to get fresh water from the well. Sam just gave him a thumbs’ up from the bed and told him he could make the coffee this morning. 

It seemed fair enough. 

Mood oddly high, Izzy made the short walk to the well, filling up the water skins he carried around his shoulders. It made the walk back rather wobbly, but Izzy took his time. The route curled around the back of Blackbeard and Bonnets Bed & Breakfast and fishing gear, and Izzy was shocked to see Ed sitting out back, staring up at the trees. 

He looked tired, eyes huge and hair matted. He didn’t seem to notice Izzy, which in itself was worrying. 

“Bit early for you, isn't it?” Izzy said, jolting Ed out of whatever thoughts had him trapped. 

His old captain turned to him, nodding a greeting before turning back to the greenery. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Inn feels too crowded. Bellamy has every room taken with at least 2 men - I told Stede we may not want to take on so many people at once.”

“Least it’s money coming in. You could always use the money to extend - build more rooms. Invest. You did a nice job, making this shithole actually liveable.”

“Yeah,” Ed breathed, digging deep to give Izzy a fake smile. “Stede said you had Bellamy bunking with you? Good for you man;  ‘bout time you had a little docking of your own.”

Izzy huffed a laugh, appreciating the shared joke, but not really wanting to talk about the man he left in bed. Sam Bellamy was before Ed’s time and Izzy wanted to keep them seperate for as long as he could. 

“The roof alright? Mine needs looking at, saw damp starting to creep in,” he asked, steering the conversation to safer waters. 

Ed breathed a long sigh that turned into a grunt. 

“Leaking. Bet Stede will have me up there fixing it…again.”

“The joys of home ownership,” Izzy smirked. “Won’t take long though.”

Ed grunted again. 

“It’s fucking relentless.”

It was. Life was. At sea or on land, life was something that happened. Izzy had always enjoyed the maintenance of life, the care in making sure everything was alright, preparing for another day. Ed had always found it boring. Near death or nothing less. 

Spotting a bitch fest brewing, Izzy extracted himself and made his way back to his shack. 

Ed would get over it. This was what he wanted.

Xxx

Frenchie resisted the urge to pull his hair out. Arguing with Izzy was worse than arguing with a crab. 

“I just don’t think being up on the roof is the smartest thing - right Sam?” Frenchie pleaded, calling the other man into the conversation. 

Sam didn’t bother looking up from his whittling from.

“He found his way up there alright. He’ll be fine - nothing wrong with him.”

Izzy gave a loud ‘heh’ turning back to fixing the shingles back to lay tight against the replaced beams. He left his crutch on the ground, two strong arms being all be needed to haul his body up the ladder and around the roof. He had been a rope rat most of his life - a one story roof was nothing he couldn’t manage, leg or no leg. 

Frenchie watched for a moment, before resigning himself to the fact Izzy was Izzy. He slouched next to Sam, eyeing up the wooden item taking shape. 

“Are you seriously just going to let him do it on his own? I mean, arn’t roofs a two handed job?”

“He’s got two hands - it’s the leg he’s missing,” Sam said, looking at Frenchie with a bored expression. “Stop treating the cripple like an invalid. It’s insulting. Pirates don’t let shit like that stop them.” 

Frenchie’s eyebrows launched into his hair and he gaped like a fish at Sam. 

“Well excuse me for caring,” he spluttered, feeling oddly insulted at the firm comment. 

“Caring’s fine. It’s nice to see. But let the man live hmm?” Sam soothed, offering Frenchie his whittled horse as a peace offering. “He’s still Izzy - still a stubborn wanker who will do as he wants.”

Frenchie took the horse, glancing up as Izzy carefully started to come down the ladder, arms straining as he kept himself up. 

“I know, just thought you would be able to get him to slow down,” Frenchie sighed. 

“I may have risen from the dead but I am not Jesus Christ.”

Izzy, back on solid land, grabbed his crutch and hobbled towards a smirking Sam and a laughing Frenchie. It was nice - seeing his crew and his…seeing his crew and Sam get on. At least he wasn’t breaking up fights or managing ego’s. Sam used to get on with most people, and Izzy breathed easier knowing he wasn’t antagonising the few people in this world he actually gave a toss about. 

Xxx

Sam stayed for another two days, before a ship reappeared on the horizon. Word rang out, and soon men were making for the boats, readying to ship out once more. 

Izzy was surprised at his disappointment. Sam’s company had been…wonderful. A welcomed comfort. 

The sex was good too. 

Still, he put on his leg, tied it tight and walked with Sam down the beach, prepared to send the man off with a smile. Nothing lasts forever, and at least he could put one ghost to rest in a much happier place. 

“Any requests for my next stay over?”

“Better booze,” Izzy said, more instinct than thought. “And your own food - Bonnets the one who should be feeding you, not me.”

The words hit him, and he stumbled slightly on the sand. 

“Next stay? You planning another visit?”

“Course, I mean, if you're agreeable? I promised to pick up after myself,” Sam said, wondering if he would have to spell it out. Izzy was a smart man, but could be woefully oblivious to things that were softer than survival. At least, when it came to himself. 

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t see why you want to slum it in a shack on a random beach but, decent company is hard to come by,” Izzy said, a sickening woozy feeling taking a grip of his stomach. Like he had swallowed moths. 

Sam huffed a laugh, reaching out to hold onto Izzy’s shoulder moving to stand in front of the shorter man. 

“Let me make it clear. Now that I have found you again, I really really want to pick up where we left off.Fuck the time apart - you’re you and I’m me. Lets end the way we started - together and having a fucking good time. What do you say Israel?”

Izzy felt a rush of heat to his face and snapped his eyes away, feeling very exposed on the open beach. 

Sam always had a big mouth. Always blurted things out bluntly. It was what Izzy had always liked about him - clear as crystal. 

He had thought this was just Sam passing through - taking the opportunity to pop by when he was around, catching up and passing time. Visiting an old lay. But…

It was nice. It was easy! Sam meant to world to him once, and while it had been tucked away by time and necessity, the tall man still seemed to just fit around Izzy. He had never had to really try with Sam - as young men they had become friends in an instant, lovers in a month and memories years after. But they were happy memories. 

Izzy had survived the kraken - survived exile, beatings, shooting, amputation, storms, Ricky, Low and a thousand tiny tortures only to end up a cripple on an island in the middle of the Caribbean. The man he had devoted his years to didn’t want him, and the life he knew was out of his reach. Nightmares had stopped, but the unease had lingered. The taste of his own flesh, the horror of a missing limb, the looks on the faces of the dead and dying were something he dwelt on in the dark and in the quiet. 

Making more nice memories - that sounded good to Izzy. 

However long it lasted, Sam always made Izzy feel good. 

He made a choice.

“I say fuck it,” Izzy grinned, reaching for Sam. 

As Izzy kissed him goodbye, Sam felt like he could swoon. 

Xxx

Up on the bank of the beach, two bodyguards stood at their posts. 

Roach and Frenchie let out a quiet ‘awww’ as they watched Izzy kiss Sam. 

“Ok, I’ll say it: I like him. Seems nice. Seems…normal,” Frenchie said as he watched Sam head for the boat. 

“So did Ed once,” Roach replied. 

“Yeah, but this guy seems to like, actually give a fuck?” Frenchie pushed, thinking back to Sam’s request for medicine, his advice. 

“He’s good company,” Roach admitted. “And gold marks for getting Izzy to actually let someone look at his leg. Been trying for ages to get eyes on it…”

“He seems relaxed with him, definitely not as on edge as normal.”

“”Well, we’ll just have to wait,” Roach declared, crossing his arms and wishing a small wish. 

Xxx

Sam slunk into the Captains Cabin with a wide smile and a loud sigh. 

“Well don’t you look like a dog with two dicks,” Talbot laughed as Sam saunted to a seat. “Good sleep over with your new boyfriend? Was it a magical moment? Did the earth move?” 

“Fuck, that man’s aged like a fine wine,” Sam sighed as he sank into his chair. “You would like him - ridiculously practical. Fantastic tits.”

“Good - my approval is key to this whole fucking venture,” Talbot said with a smirk. “And your little bag of goodies?”

Sam hovered his hand in the air, tilting it back and forth slightly. 

“Few clear hits, few misses. But I’ll find that sweet spot. You make any headway?”

Talbot reached for a set of rolled parchments, tossing them to Sam’s side of the desks. 

“It’s all there. No reason why this stupid idea won’t work.”

“If it works it can’t be stupid,” Sam muttered, reading quickly. “I want the best lads on this. Get Murdock down this way as well - I want a word with him. John too. No point dragging this out longer than it needs to.”

“You sure you want to go this hard?” Talbot quietly asked, already resigned to his answer. “Still lots to work out, still lots to go wrong?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Chapter Text

Izzy always enjoyed a project. The fixing of something, or the creation of something always gave him pride, knowing he had done a good job. 

So when Bonnet and Ed asked for his help to extend the inn to include an outdoor area, complete with bar, he agreed. Edward and Bonnet took the tasks of cutting back the wild growth and laying the stones to ground, while Izzy made himself busy with carpentry, measuring twice and getting the angles perfect. 

He did it because he wanted to. Not because his old captain had asked him. 

Izzy was proud when they were finished, feeling like he had achieved something after a long time drifting. The bickering between him and Bonnet was now purely out of fun, and he even enjoyed revisiting memories with Ed. All in all, it was a great feat of teamwork. 

And when Bonnet told him letters had come from ‘The Princes men’, he found himself waiting for something, hoping deep down that he would not be disappointed. 

Xxx

Apparently it was Fang and Wee Johns turn to take a vacation from the crew and sailing. Bonnet, sensing an opportunity, was quick to invite them to an ‘opening night party’ they were holding for Sam’s boys to christen the new drinking area. They were eager enough to attend, and promised to help Bonnet maintain a ‘fun and carefree environment.” Bonnet called them ‘hosts’. 

Izzy called them idiots. 

Still, somehow they found themselves with Izzy most of the time, each attending to a personal project or simply passing time in conversation and good humour. Today, they were in his shack, Wee John on the bed while Fang and Izzy sat at the table. Fang was knitting (fucking knitting!) , Wee John was sewing his party clothes and Izzy was whittling. 

It was a nice way to spend a day, even if Izzy would never say so out loud. 

A loud rapping at the door set the men on edge in an instant, undoing the ease that normally surrounded them. It wasn’t Ed or Stede - they would have called out, not bothering to knock. Raising his hand, indicating silence, Izzy hobbled to the door, keeping his whittling knife. With a look of ‘ready?’ To the others, he opened the door, careful to block the view of the men inside.  

Sam Bellamy was on his doorstep, grinning like a shark and looking deliciously smug. Izzy dropped the knife, relief and something else flooding him. 

“Hello sweets,” Sam beamed, stomach doing a flip as a smile split across Izzy’s face. Fuck he felt young again every time he saw the other man - his worries melting away. 

“What the fuck are you doing sneaking around?” Izzy asked, automatically taking a step back and letting the taller man into the shack. “Your lot isn't due till tomorrow.”

“Surprise,” Sam chirped, stealing a quick kiss from Izzy’s lips. “Plan’s change.”

“Does this mean we can’t stay over now?”

Sam turned at the unexpected voice, amazed at how he missed the two extra bodies in the shack - especially the large one! The faces seemed friendly enough but Sam was starting to notice a pattern. 

“Didn’t know you had company Israel,” Sam said smoothly, dropping his knapsack as he walked to the men with his hand held out. “Sam Bellamy. Are you more dangerous friends of Izzy?” 

“Oh yeah, the most dangerous,” Fang smiled widely, shaking the offered hand while putting his knitting away with the other. 

“Sam, this is Fang and Wee John,” Izzy said briskly, trying to hide a sudden slither of nerves. “Lads - you remember Sam. He stays over from time to time.”

Sitting at the table as Sam made his charming introductions, Izzy watched Fang and John’s faces and Izzy could see them assessing Sam, taking in his form and his air. 

For what purpose Izzy had no idea. 

“Nothing like a little sleep over eh Izzy?” Wee John grinned, taking Sam in with a lingering look. “Telling ghostly stories and braiding each other's hair.”

“Love it when Izzy pulls my hair,” Sam whispered in a low purring voice, meeting the humour in John’s eyes. “But unfortunately for me, today is just a passing visit. I’ll be back tomorrow though - if you have a space for me Israel?” 

“Where the fuck are you going?” Izzy asked, amused by John and Sam’s flirty behaviour. It seemed the gossip of his bed mate had spread like wildfire among the crew thanks to gobshite Lucius, and Izzy couldn’t be bothered to care. This crew didn’t care about who you shagged or why. 

They didn’t have to hide it this time around. 

“Got business in the township,” Sam explained, giving a warm thanks to Fang as coffee was pressed into his hand. “If I’m going to be hanging around here, I would like to put a few things in order. Figure out the Governor and check the local law.”

“I could have told you that,” Izzy said. “Governors a fat prick, the town’s main economy is fish and the local law is more concerned about feathering their nests than catching anyone. Bonnet and Ed checked that out long ago.”

“Good to know,” Sam smiled, fondness shining through. “Still, may as well feather the nest a little myself - the ships a big one and the less official notice the better. I’ll stay in town tonight and come back tomorrow. Got myself an invite to the right poker game at 8:00.” 

“Oh! You’ll be able to make the party tomorrow then!” Fang burst out, a sunny grin lighting up the room. 

“Party?” Sam questioned, and Izzy let out a long suffering sigh. 

“Bonnet and Ed have decided to add some entertainment to their list of many services,” he drawled, humour clear in his voice. “They planned to throw a bit of a do tomorrow for your lot - music, games, dancing, drinks outside - the lot.”

“And a very special, very exclusive guest,” Wee John added, mischief on his face.

“That’s good of them,” Sam said gleefully, reaching for his knapsack. “The boys would love that - nothing like a dance and a song to raise the spirits. And, it makes this far more timely.”

Before anyone could say anything, Sam opened the sack and pulled fabric and cloth from it, piling it on the table. 

“What’s this?” Izzy asked, fingers reaching to pull a dark blue bit of fabric. 

“Clothes - shirts, trousers, waistcoats, smalls, belts, coats,” Sam reeled off. “Nothing special or over the top. But your shirts are more patch than cloth.”

As Wee John and Fang grabbed at the fabric, holding it aloft and nodding approval, Izzy gave Sam a hard stare. 

“Don’t need your fucking charity.”

“Not charity to give gifts,” Sam said, staring back just as hard. “It’s clothes. See it as repayment for you giving me room and board. Besides it’s not entirely out of kindness.”

“Oh?’

Sam let a sultry smile pour over his lips. 

“I quite like to see the look of you in something fitted…”

Izzy tossed a sock at him.

Xxx

Waving Sam off, suspicion (and worry) brewing, Izzy ignored the heavy weight in his chest. 

Sam was a slippery fuck. Always had been. What set Sam apart from every other man Izzy had known was his beguiling and charming nature.

Sam could talk to anyone. Talk anyone into anything. He used to call it networking, building threads in a web he sat in the centre of. When Izzy joined Hornigolds ranks, he noticed how Sam took time to speak to everyone, find something in common with everyone. 

People tended to like Sam. 

Evan Blackbeard found it hard to be genuinely likeable - too erratic and reactive to build a sense of stability and trust with people. 

Yet somehow, Sam always made Izzy feel different from everyone else. Feel special. Held Izzy closer then he did anyone else, let Izzy see the worries and the ambition and the temper. They had been a pair - a set. Equals. 

But now things are different. Sam had money, power and options. Izzy just had himself and his small living in a shack hiding from the world. ‘Picking up where they left off’ didn’t change the fact they were starting again from different places. 

Sam had plans. Izzy only hoped they would be something he could be a part of. 

Xxx

Wee John had insisted on tailoring some of Izzy's new clothes. 

“That oversized black tent you used to call a shirt did nothing for you.” Was John’s honest assessment. 

To Izzys surprise, John also got the idea to alter the breeches, making the one leg shorter and attaching a button to the back of the thigh and a loop at the hem. 

“Stop you bunching up a whole leg worth of fabric to get your Unicorn hoof on.” 

And so, Izzys was finally able to wear polished looking trousers, the loose shin length fabric folded and tied nicely over his stump without the leg, and hanging well if he did. 

Izzy was oddly touched and in return, he cooked and fed the pair while they turned their attention to their own party clothes. To his surprise, Wee John had a saucy red dress, and he was sewing as much lace onto it as he could as the sun faded. 

“Bit overboard isn’t it?” Izzy asked, pulling a face at the garish garment.

“Look, a party is a party and I want to enjoy myself,” Wee John said, airing the frock with a flourish. “It’s all in good fun and I look absolutely gorgeous in a corset.”

“Red is your colour,” Fang chimed in. “Could some with something shiny on it though.”

As John raided his box of random bits and bobs, he decided to approach a topic he had long wanted to. With the new clothes and new man, this seemed as safe a time as any. 

“You could do with some sprucing up yourself wee man,” John said, looking over Izzy from foot to crown. 

“Not really feeling the gold glitter at the moment,’ Izzy said. “Besides, even my tit’s can’t compete with yours when they’re on display.”

Both Fang and Wee John barked a laugh, the giant man cupping his chest and giving Izzy a wink and blowing him kisses. 

“It’s an idea Izzy,” Fang smiled earnestly. “You used to love how I did your hair with the shorter sides and the longer bit on top. Could give you a proper trim and shave as well - get that handsome face of yours on show again. Show your Sam what a catch you are.”

“You are looking a little bit like a wolf hound at the moment,” Wee John helpfully added. 

Izzys hand reached for his face on instinct. 

Before, it was important to maintain a look of menace. A polished appearance worked on land and sea. Izzy had been meticulous in facing each day with his hair carefully slicked back and his goatee finely trimmed. It made him feel in control. 

Now, it seemed to matter so little. Why bother fussing about with looks when you were going no where, had no one to see and even less of a fuck to give. So Izzy barely bothered anymore. His hair was growing shaggy, more and more grey taking root, bleeding into his sideburns and face. His goatee was getting lost again in his unmaintained facial hair, the length starting to curl over his jaw. 

He still slicked back his hair and trimmed his face every so often - but that pride and attention to detail was gone. Sam was right - his clothes were wearing thin, and until this moment, Izzy hadn’t really noticed all this. 

Hadn’t noticed himself. 

Fang’s arm on his pulled him from his sudden realisation. The portly man was grinning, waving a small case in his hands. 

“Lover boy packed a grooming kit!” He sang out. 

Izzt barked a laugh and John and Fang took that as a win, even as Izzy told them to fuck off. 

Xxx

Fang approached the next day with a single minded focus - groom Izzy Hands. 

Fang hustled Izzy to the bath first, telling him he had to else there would be no chance once Wee John started his self care routine. Then, while Izzy was wet and chilly, he produced a white sheet and draped it across Izzy's chest, ignoring the splutters of insult as Fang prepared the kit. 

“Come on,” Fang fussed. “This won’t take long. Besides, can’t have you letting the crew down - you’re our mascot - need you looking like a million bucks!” 

Izzy could have said no. He could have screamed, and ripped the fabric from him and stormed off. Could have just very firmly told Fang if he touched him he would break his fingers. 

But he didn’t. Fang looked so content as he prepared the station, chattering on at Izzy without a care. And Izzy had to admit, now that they had mentioned it, they were right in that he had let himself go slightly. 

Fuck it - it would all grow back all the same. 

Before, Izzy would bark his orders for what he wanted and Fang would comply silently. Now, Fang told him what he needed, bringing out his personal opinion on what would suit Izzy best. Fang pressed his shoulders and told him to trust him. 

And Izzy did. 

Closing his eyes as hair started to be severed, he let the cheery conversation drift over him. He tilted his head, bared his throat without a second thought as Fang applied shaving cream. He opened his eyes at the sound of the razor, but Fang's reassuring hand on his shoulder put him at ease. He held his breath as the sharp blade was pulled across his skin, letting Fang move him as he wished. 

It was oddly freeing to just let it all happen. 

Finally, Fang whipped off the makeshift barbers cape and declared him done, looking very pleased with himself. Izzys hand touched his chin, surprised to feel almost smooth skin. At Fangs nagging, he forced himself from the chair to a broken mirror he kept, mainly out of habit. Preparing himself for the worst, Izzy took a long breath before looking right ahead into his reflection. 

The mirror held an old friend. 

He looked younger. Less tired and worn. 

Fang has indeed been decisive in how much hair he took, how close he trimmed. Where before there was long, jagged strands, now they were short to his sides, longer hair on top left to part as it will, falling over his face and ears but not his eyes. The beard was cut back, his goatee trimmed almost to skin, but leaving a clear and sharp shape on his lips and chin. Even his eyebrows had been trimmed into a neat line.  

Izzy’s face stared back at him - brighter, clearer and fairer then it had been in a very long time. His head seemed to hold itself higher, ready to face the world head on. 

Izzy blinked, surprised to feel a wetness at his lashes. The discovery made his throat clench and his mouth pull tight as feelings started to boil over. 

Izzy hadn’t seen this man in a long time. Hadn’t even noticed he had left. 

He was shocked from his reflection when warm arms wrapped around him from behind, a soft chest at his back. Fang held him loosely but firmly, smiling around his shoulder and swaying him softly as he tried to control his breath. 

“There’s Izzy Hands - I’ve missed him,” Fang said happily, chancing a soft kiss to Izzy’s scalp. “As polished and striking as ever.”

The words made Izzy snort, a wide smile splitting his face. 

“Fuck off Fang.”

Despite his words, Izzy leaned back into Fang's arms, just for a second, his one hand coming up to squeeze Fang's forearm in gratitude. 

“Clean up well, eh?” Izzy joked, voice still tight. “Not bad for a tired old dog.”

“You're not a tired old dog!” Fang laughed, giving in and fully cuddling Izzy. “Boney Mike was a tired old dog -  you are a fierce, handsome and vibrant man!” 

Izzy scoffed, pulling away from Fang, smiling at the praise. 

“You should get Lucius to sketch you sometime Iz,” Fang continued, starting to put away his razors. “Does wonders for the self-esteem. How we see ourselves - it's not how others see us.” 

The idea of the boy sketching him was ridiculous, but for a moment Izzy almost considered it. 

Xxx

The party grew in mood quickly as the barrels of ale Edward had purchased were drained. Sam’s men (14 this time) were keen to be merry, and they quickly filled out the new patio area with noise and smoke. 

Bonnet had acquired a piano, intending to play some ambient music himself, only to find he was quickly replaced by a man with a beard to his stomach who knew more lively music. Singing rang out, and Izzy was surprised to find himself pulled into it, arms wrapping around his shoulders as men sang the many virtues of a girl from Nantucket. 

A few of the men looked at him funny, but Izzy just ignored them. Gossip travelled fast - they likely knew he was in bed with their boss. Some approached him with awe, asking him for stories and Izzy found himself entertaining the boys with his own tales. All true - except for one:

“How’d you lose the leg?”

“Shark. Three of them.”

When Izzy noticed Fang muscle in on the piano, he extracted himself to stand closer to the door, preparing himself for anyone who decided that this sort of fun was wrong. 

But when Calypso appeared, smoke (somehow!) billowing behind them as they made their grand entrance to the party, mens mouths dropped and several whooped, standing and applauding. The lone woman of the crew stood on the table, cheering wildly. 

“My darling worshippers! Your prayers have been answered - your queen is here!” Wee John declared, floating through the tables to stand next to the piano, looking as grand as any royal queen and twice as magnificent. “You will always remember this day as the day the grand Calypso blessed you with her presence!”

John worked the group like magic - flirty, bawdry and downright lewd. Calypso was a vision in red, cinched sight with gold buttons shimming around the bust. Their face was made up in lashes of red and black, the beard the lone bit of silver. Izzy found his face ached with how much he laughed, spitting out his drink when one of the men buried his face in Calypso’s chest and begged for more. 

The night was magic and Izzy lost himself to the moment. 

Until Calypso got a wicked gleam in her eye, making her way through the tables. 

“Now this may be a shock to you all, but alas, I am not perfect,” She waved away the sounds of denial from the crowd. “It’s true. For while I am blessed with a perfect face, curves that don’t quit and tits that could bewitch even a monk, I was not blessed with a decent singing voice.” 

Izzy felt a curl of anticipation and worry shoot through his blood as a deviled face met his gaze, grin wicked. Hands curled over his shoulders, pulling him to stand, hands stroking his face. 

“Now this man was gifted the voice of an angel. And I desire this voice to sing to me. Israel Hands - stand tall and show these lumps of clay how you woo a lady!” 

Cheers and slapping hands rang out, encouragement from all sides. Izzy found himself swept up in Calypso’s arms and taken to the piano. 

“Wait, wait wait, I want to be comfortable for this - these shoes are sexy as fuck but are killer on the bunions,” John fussed, pulling a chair from an offering sailor and posing like a Grecian goddess. “Ok, I’m ready Mr Hands - woo you’re queen!” 

Izzy had been leaning against the piano, face red but grinning at John’s flouncing. The drink had dulled his nerves, and he mockingly cursed them both out for putting him in this situation. 

Very aware of the crowd, Izzy was overtaken by gratitude for both Fang and Wee John’s attempts at cleaning him up. The white shirt he wore fit him well, not needing rope to shorten the arms. The blue waistcoat was snug, bringing out the width of his chest and his breeches fell over his wooden hoof smoothly, giving back definition to his hips and thigh. With his hair out of his eyes, and his smile easy to see, Izzy felt good having eyes upon him. 

It was this feeling he channelled , as he opened his mouth and started a well known love song many sailors would hum on lonely nights. He kept his eyes on Calypso, singing just for her, wooing her as commanded. 

He noticed the group was swaying, some heads dropping onto their companions shoulders. John was looking at him so fondly, offering his hand to be kissed and reaching out to run a finger down Izzy’s face. 

Izzy sang free and loud, the old pleasure of the act blooming in him as his confidence grew. He started to work with John, drifting closer to Calypso, walking his fingers up their arm, waiting for the slap away as he approached their ample chest. John swooned and gushed, clearly torn between playing for comedy or just enjoying the song. 

Scanning the crowd during the last verse, Izzy burst with pride when he saw the whole crowd entranced, some mouthing the words with him. But there was a new person in the crowd, a shade of green that wasn’t there before. 

Sam was back, leaning against the back wall and smiling widely, swaying in time to beat. 

Sam’s sudden appearance, the awed smile he gave Izzy when their eyes met made Izzy feel like a ton of treasure. 

Izzy let the note fade, his voice replaced by applause and table knocks. Scanning the group and seeing nothing by cheers and thanks, he watched as Sam beamed and clapped at the back of the room. Smiling wide and happy, Izzy gave a small bow, eyes on Sam before kissing Calypsos hand once more. 

He limped to the side as  Fang and Wee John wrapped up, sending praise and adoration his way.  It didn’t last long for Sam to push his way through the crowd, snatching two glasses of ale on his way and offering one to Izzy the moment he was close enough. 

“Made it back then,” Izzy stated, taking a quick sip of the ale, still feeling heat at his face. Sam was dressed well even if he was slightly disheveled. His long hair was tied in a braid, loose strands moving the breeze and his coat was a deep green, gold button winking in the candle lights. 

For once, Izzy felt like that matched - both in finery. 

“Aye, and what a reward I got,” Sam grinned, looking Izzy up and down as he took Izzy's face in his hand and kissed him with lingering promise. “Always said you were a bloody siren.”

“Fuck off,” Izzy muttered, hating the heat at his face.

Moments later, Wee John and Fang were pressed to his side, stealing the ale from his and Sam’s hands. 

“Fuck me Izzy, you could make the desert wet,” John offered between gulps. “Thanks for jumping in - we needed an amazing closer.”

 “Sam - you remember Fang, and the gorgeous creature in the sexy red number is Calypso aka Wee John.”

“I’m sure you’re charmed,” John mockingly simpered, holding out his hand. His eyes went wide when Sam grasped it softly, bringing it to his lips for a kiss while his long fingers stroked his wrist. 

“A siren and a Goddess in one night? Truly this is a blessed place.”

“Izzy, if you ever got bored of this man, I want him,” John said, fanning himself and giving Fang an odd look. “A looker and a sweet talker? Some people have all the luck.”

Sam took the praise proudly, bowing to John before leaning to wrap an arm around Izzy’s shoulder, holding him close. 

“So, what did I miss?”

Xx

Bartending was actually rather fun. The banter, the back and forth, the slapping liquid in a glass and making people happy. Ed liked it. Even getting fresh barrels were met with cheers and he rode the wave of appreciation. 

It also gave Ed a brilliant view of the whole lot and their actions. The card game to the left, Izzys singing and Wee Johns comedy set. Best seat in the house was behind the bar. 

So he caught the look on Izzy's face when Bellamy walked in. Saw the taller man hold onto his former first mate like he was made of gold. Heard the easy laughter and jokes and mock fights. 

Saw Izzy smile more than he had seen in years. Looked better than he had in years. Freer. 

Ed didn’t realise how much he had missed seeing that smile. A yearning swelled up in him, the urge to approach and be welcomed by Izzy into this new fold. To be let in on the jokes, embraced with warmth, looked at like he was welcomed. 

But Ed stayed behind the bar, too much time, space and blood in the way. 

Xxx

They fell through the shack door together, clinging to each other and laughing at their clumsiness. The second they found themselves alone for the walk back, the tension had grown to breaking point, snapping when they were just feet away from the door. 

“You are a fucking beauty,” Sam sighed, tilting Izzys head up, kissing him deeper. “All perfect and poised- makes me want to mess you up.”

“That right?” Izzy teased, wrapping his arms around Sams waist, pulling him towards the bed. “Seems rude. John took great care in tailoring these clothes. They deserve a little respect.”

“I will rip them off you if you don’t get moving,” Sam mock demanded, pressing his hands to Izzys chest, feeling the fine fabric and the heat of skin. 

“No you fucking won’t! Izzy warned, turning them both around and giving Sam a shove, sending him sitting to the bed. “Wee John would have your guts.”

“That's fine - Calypso will protect me,” Sam joked back, hands grasping at Izzy, trying to open buttons and loosen strings. “She’d understand it was bloody essential!”

Chuckling at Sam’s pawing hands, feeling powerful and wanted from the others' eager need, Izzy caught the hands with his, bringing them up to his mouth to kiss the fingers, one at a time. Izzy glowed, as Sam melted, eyes staring into his as his mouth went slack at the feel of Izzys lips. 

“You little tease,” Sam breathed, dropping his hands to Izzy’s hips and gently tugging him forward. “What do you want tonight Israel; tell me so I can give it to you.”

Izzy curled his hands around Sam’s jaw, a soft smile playing about his lips. 

“Dangerous game, offering a man something like that,” he whispered, intimacy embracing them. “What I want, my sweet Sam, is to suck your cock. Then I want to fuck you until you drool.”

Sam moaned, smiling brighter and looking up at Izzy in utter adoration. 

“Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

Izzy had to bend to kiss the adoration off Sam's face, the twinge at his hip reminding him things were different now. 

But differences can be managed. 

He and Sam stood together, stripping the other with care (including wooden appendages), caressing skin as it was exposed. Izzy was still the more muscular of the pair and both had added to their collection of scars. They traced the others, marvelling at the ability to survive. 

They worked it out; Izzy sat on the bed, thighs spread while Sam stood between them. He leaned low, breathing in the musky male smell of Sam, and re learnt the texture of his lover and the heat of his skin. He licked and tasted, sighing at the utter closeness he felt with Sam as he suckled his cock. He moaned at hands gripped his newly shortened hair, shivered as they traced his bare back. 

Izzy’s own prick rose high, demanding its own stimulation, but Izzy didn’t want to stop touching Sam and Sam couldn’t reach. A delightful tease to both men. 

Finally, Sam had to pull back, popping from Izzy's mouth with an obscene noise. Izzy panted, grinning at him as Sam stumbled to locate the oil he had brought with him last visit. Sam lay face down on the bed, eager and more than willingly, while Izzy carefully moved to his good side, learning how to balance his weight. 

Sam preened like a cat when Izzy smoothed down the smooth expanse of his back. When Izzy took to kissing and nipping the warm flesh, Sam thrust against the bed, the touch lighting him up. His back had always been sensitive - Izzy Hands was the only man on earth who knew that. 

When slick fingers breached him, and teeth pressed against his shoulder blade, Sam let out a small whimper, burying his face into the pillow. Izzy held nothing back, tracing kisses and small bites across his shoulders and neck while his fingers stretched and reached. Izzy gorged himself once more on the taste of Sam, the need to bring Sam to pieces at war with his own to chase his pleasure. 

Sam made that choice for him, raising himself up just enough to bark back at Izzy he was ready, melting into pleas when Izzy sucked at his neck and pressed deeper. Finally, showing mercy, Izzy removed his fingers and carefully straddled Sam, holding his weight on his arms and good leg, careful to lay his calfless thigh as flat to the bed as he could. 

Both men held their breath as Izzy eased inside, warmth, pressure and connection waiting for them. Izzy held himself still for a few moments, before giving a tentative thrust, testing the range and power of his hips. Sam groaned and Izzy gasped, before instinct took over and he lost himself to a deep pace. Sam rocked in time with him, arching and rounding his back to help Izzy find that perfect spot. 

Izzy watched, amazed as a sheen of sweat started to shine on Sam’s back and the flush on Sam’s face moved down his neck. Dropping his head, focusing on his breathing, Izzy groaned long and low as Sam tightened around him, shifting slightly. 

They moved together, panting moans ringing out in the small shack. Izzy lay his body on Sam’s, pinning him fully, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he started to chase his finish, hips snapping fast and hard. Sam's mouth blindly sought his and Izzy caught it just at the moment his end found him. Sam groaned along with him, praise falling from his mouth as Izzy ground deep, unable to move for some moments. 

Mind still ringing and body still singing, Izzy wormed a hand under Sam’s stomach, making a tunnel around his cock and whispering encouragement as Sam pumped his hips, finally spilling between Izzy’s hand and the mattress.  

Panting gave way to heavy breathing. Izzy carefully lifted himself from Sam, rolling to the side as he tried to catch his breath. Sam stayed on his stomach, looking at Izzy under his mussed up hair. 

“Fuck, that was good,” Izzy sighed as his heart started to slow. He cast a soft questioning look to Sam. 

Sam gave him a lazy, satisfied smile, moving just enough to kiss him one more time before collapsing back to the bed with a small ‘oomph’. 

Izzy huffed a proud laugh. Sam always took a while to find his brain after being fucked. 

Sam did however, wrap an arm around Izzy’s waist, tugging him closer and sighing in contentment when Izzy stroked the hair back from his face. 

“Fucking perfect.”

Xxx

The morning was lazy. When someone (most likely Fang) knocked at the door, they both shouted ‘fuck off’ , and a meek ‘ Sorry!’ told them all was well. When they finally peeled themselves from the bed, Izzy got started with coffee, while Sam ran to the Inn to steal some breakfast. 

Finally, once the food was done and Izzy was talking about the day ahead, Sam could put it off no more. 

“Some people are heading out here today that I want you to meet,” Sam said, hoping he didn’t sound anxious. 

“These the people you went to see?” Izzy asked, suspicion raising. “Why the fuck would anyone in town come out here?” 

“My John wants to meet you, he docked at the town,” Sam said, sitting at the table and giving Izzy a hard look. “And he’s bringing a doctor I would trust with my own life.”

There it was. There was Sam’s game. This was the reason he slipped off to town - Izzy knew it! He was torn between laughing at how well he still knew Sam and his ways, or exploding in anger at Sam’s fucking audacity! 

Sam was charming, but he was also a leader - it came naturally to him. So he lead - he pushed, he decided, he bent the world to his whim and to hell with those in the way. 

And he had decided Izzy needed a doctor. Needed fixing. Changing. 

The anger won. 

“I don’t need a fucking doctor!” Izzy hissed, hopping to the bed and grabbing his leg, cursing when it fell from his hands to the floor in his raging rush. “Fuck!” 

Sam bent quickly, picking the leg up and handing it to Izzy. 

“It won’t make things worse!. Sea surgery is always rough - bloody miracle to survive something this nasty. There are ways to take a leg that means it’s better to live with - Murdock can just take a look and tell us-“

“I don’t need some toffy-nosed, glorified butcher to tell me I’m fucked,” Izzy spat, tightening his leg to the point of pain. 

“Why? Cos you decided that it’s true and screw anything that could tell you different?” 

“Oh fuck you,” Izzy sneered. “Condescending twat.”

“Spiteful wanker!”

“Meddling cunt!”

“Stubborn bastard!” 

Both Izzy and Sam were breathing harshly by this point, both on their feet and staring at each other with teeth bared. For a flickering second, Izzy expected a punch or a kick - something sharp and painful to beat him down and make small. 

Instead, Sam scowled and looked away, unclenching his hands from where they hang by his sides. He took a rigid step away from Izzy, then another, before turning on his heel to face him again. When he looked up, Izzy could see a tightness at his eyes. 

“Your leg was hacked off at the rot. You’re alive and that’s a fucking miricle I will thanking God for when I finally go to see him. But there may be more to do. Murdock has worked on lost limbs before, I’ve seen him hack off more forearm or take a knee and people have fucking thanked him for it. For how much easier it made living. It’s your life Israel, you do what you fucking want to do. But just asked yourself; what would you tell any of your guys to do? Hmm? If Fang or Frenchie or fucking Calypso was in your situation? Would you be happy for them to never know if things could be easier?” 

When no words came from Izzy, Sam huffed in frustration, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Walking away left space to walk back in calmer seas. 

“I’ll let you think it over. I won’t mention Murdock again, but I would like to introduce you to John - let you both put names to faces.” 

Sam walked towards the door, disappointed at how the conversation had gone. He knew it would be a challenge, but it still took everything he had to walk away and not push. 

When he opened the door, light blinding him for a second, Izzy finally spoke. 

“I’ll meet John. And Murdock.”

Xxx

John King was with a group of men on the beach, and when he saw his father and his ‘friend’ approach, he was quick to walk up towards them. Sam had never asked him to meet a paramour before…but the others hadn’t been Izzy Hands. The fussing Sam had done in town to warn, prepare and manage John had been hysterical and he looked forward to meeting the man Sam had carried in his head for the past 20 odd years. 

“So your Israel Hands,” the youth said, giving Izzy a lazy smile as he looked him up and down. “Heard a lot about you Sir. Used to think Sam had made you up, you were so bloody wonderful.” 

“Oh yeah?” Izzy grinned, casting a sly look at Sam. “Been talking me up has he?”

“Only the family friendly things,” John grinned, eyes flicking to Sam. “I heard the more colourful things when I started sailing on my own.”

“Sam said you're a merchant?” Izzy questioned, oddly nervous under the young man's gaze. He looked so bloody young . Pale blue eyes with a shock of black hair. He seemed to be on the cusp of manhood, still soft and green. 

“It’s just piracy with more paperwork,” John smiled. “Nothing like what you got up - is it true you fought off 9 people while you had a dislocated shoulder in Jamaica?” 

Izzy was quick to confirm. Soon more tales were shared, and Izzy learnt about the new ways of piracy growing in the name of ‘new money’. Sam busied himself with getting drinks from the Inn, and soon Izzy was given John an impromptu demonstration of his sword skills. 

“Come on John!” Sam shouted, highly amused as his boy failed and flailed against Izzy’s practised movement. “I thought you were better than this! The mans got one leg - need me to tie his hand behind his back too!” 

“Fuck you old man!” John panted to Sam, lunging once more before Izzy caught his sword with his and limiting his movement. “Moves like a bloody eel!” 

Izzy thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon. With all fake pleasantries buried under the spar, John King and Izzy Hands got to know each other as men and pirates (merchants). 

Sam wasn’t surprised when John gave him his nod of approval, but he was still pleased for it. 

Xxx

To Izzys surprise, once Murdock got to the shack, he chased Sam off with clear instructions not to come back until the exam was finished. Izzy had cut in when he tried to do the same with Fang. He needed someone in his corner if this ghoul was going to be eyeing him up like meat. 

Murdock was…round. Portly. Well fed. He looked strong, but his hands were soft and gentle. He asked Izzy plain questions with a lack of tact and politeness Izzy could work with. What Izzy couldn’t recall Fang answered and the exam, while painful, was quick.

“Too much bone and not enough gristle,” Murdock sighed, sounding unimpressed as he found a seat. “Want to get rid of the remaining bit of shin, most likely the knee too. That will make some nice soft space for the femur to move and sit on and stop the skin splitting so much. People tell me it’s much less painful.” 

“I’m already missing half a leg and you want to take more?” Izzy bit out, anger and rage his friend at this moment.  

“Only the useless bits getting in the way,” Murdock said, impervious to Izzy’s glare. “You don’t keep the top half half of a mast after it's broken off from the base. You won’t miss it too much”

When Izzy said nothing else, Murdock took the hint. Gathering his coat and shaking Izzy's hand, he told him if he wanted the surgery to send word and he would do it. He also left Izzy some Laudanum, with a warning that when it was gone, he would get no more from him unless Izzy had the leg fixed. 

Fang saw him out, fully prepared for Izzy’s spitting tantrum. He was surprised when it didn’t come, instead Izzy seemed to sink into himself. 

“Waste of fucking time,” Izzy muttered, fussing with his wooden leg. “Told Sam it wasn’t worth it.”

“I don’t know boss,” Fang said quietly. “The doctor sounded pretty convincing to me.”

“I’m not letting that bone ghoul take more of my leg,” Izzy said, compulsively trying to flex his knee and feeling the painful weight of the wood strain it. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so.” 

Izzy did say so. He had kept his promise to Sam and met the doctor. 

There was nothing more he had to do. 

Xxx

There was an edge to the evening routine. Sam, while grateful to still be welcomed by Izzy’s side, knew the man could dwell for days if given the chance. Best to just let Izzy get it out of his system and move on. Izzy had always felt things very deeply. 

“John likes you,” Sam said, keen to start on a safe topic as he pinched out the candles. 

“He’s a fine young man. Smart.”

“Sent him to school and everything. Would run rings around his tutors,” Sam said with a smile. “I’m glad he finally got to meet you.”

“Well you filled his head with fluffy nonsense - it needed correcting.”

“Izzy you know I fought off 11 men single-handedly when we took that French ship,” Sam said, gearing up for the correction and slipping into bed next to Izzy. It really was too small for two grown men. 

“You did,” Izzy agreed, pulling the blanket over his chilled body. “But 4 of them were under 14, 3 were nearly dead with starvation already, 2 were drunk and the other 2 were just shit swordsmen.”

“Still 11 men at once,” Sam shot back. 

Silence grew between them. Izzy lay on his back, and even in the dark Sam could make out a pout. Izzys energy screamed ‘don’t touch’ and Sam knew there was only one way through this. 

Head on.

“Are you going to tell me what Murdock said or you still pissed at me for bringing him?” Sam huffed, unable to stand it anymore. 

“Still pissed,” Izzy said, knowing he was being childish and not caring. 

“Good to know.” 

The silence hung once more. Izzy decided that he hated the silence more than he was annoyed at Sam. He was only trying to help…stupid twat. 

“He wants to take more off. Some bollocks about space for the thigh bone.”

“You going to do it?” Sam asked, giving nothing away about his opinion. 

“Nope.”

Sam smiled in the dark. Israel Hands - the only man on earth powered by spite and annoyance at life. 

“Well, at least you have an option,” Sam said softly. “That’s the main thing.”

Taking a chance, hoping that this could now be put behind them, Sam reached out, feeling for Izzy’s hand. After a brief moment, Izzy’s hand turned and fingers held his back. A tension melted from Sam, and he turned towards Izzy tucking himself close and rubbing his cheek against Izzy’s shoulder. 

“I just want to help Israel,” Sam whispered. “Don’t see the point in leaving you to suffer when it’s fixable.”

A hand crept up to Sams hair, thick fingers twirling the strands. 

“I know,” Izzy whispered. “You never could leave well enough alone.”

“Maybe, but you’re the only one I’ve ever let throw it back in my face.” 

“I’m fine Sam. I promise.”

Sam kissed Izzy’s chest, feeling his heart beat on his lips. Raising up to his elbows, eyes finding Izzys even in the dark, he decided it was all or nothing. 

Life was too short to keep playing this game. 

“I want you more than fine,” he whispered. “I want you happy. I want you pain free. I want you relaxed and comfortable and enjoying yourself. I want you to have everything your devious little heart has longed for. And, and I want to be the one to give it to you.”

Sam pressed a gentle kiss to Izzys lips, tasting his breath. 

“I love you, you know? Have since you stole that orange for me from Grumpy Harris. Didn’t know what to call it back then, but I’m older and wiser now. And I know I love you. Always have. Always will. Even when we were apart, I would wonder about you, hope you were happy. Finding you again, it’s been like a reward for something I must have done right.” 

Calloused hands carefully reached for his face, coaxing it lower so Izzy could kiss him deep and slow. Sam sighed with contentment.  

“It’s only been a few months Sam,” Izzy breathed against his mouth. “You’re just getting carried away-“

“I loved you back on the Ranger you dick,” Sam cut in with a soft chuckle. “I didn’t leave you because I wanted to. It was just the way things worked out. But now I have found you again I don’t intend on letting you go.”

Sam let the silence swell around them. He had said his part - had laid his cards on the table. Izzy knew without a shadow of a doubt what he meant to Sam. Moving slowly, Sam lay back down, wrapping an arm around Izzys chest and tucking his face into his neck. After a few moments, Izzy shifted, mouth seeking out Sam’s in the dark and a lone foot tangling with his own. 

“Soppy twat,” Izzy said wetly. “Thought you were dead for fucking years. I cried for you. You…you meant the whole fucking world to me. Never cared about anyone the same way I cared for you. I…I think…” Izzy sucked in a wet breath, taking a moment before to find the words. “The last man I said I had love for shot me, wanted me dead. But I’m still fucking here. If this a lie, a scam - if you're going to walk away from me when you get bored, then just shoot me between the eyes before you go. Because I’m not brave enough to go through all this again.” 

“If I walk away from you again, shoot me in the back because I’ll deserve to die like a dog.”

Izzy felt hollowed out and raw but the warmth from Sam’s body soothed him. Loving Sam was something so beautifully familiar, so achingly easy Izzy had barely noticed it. 

The love he had once felt was Edward Teach was dead - had been a corpse long before he realised the love had morphed into something ugly and destructive. 

The love he felt for Sam was hopeful and gentle; something the young yearned for and the old mourned. It didn’t rip him apart or taste bloody. It wrapped around him like silk and requested a soft touch. 

Izzy Hands had loved others most of his life. Now, he felt it given back. 

Xxx

“I really hope the wee angry fucker keeps him,” Wee John sighed, smile pulling at his lips as he watched Izzy walk Sam towards his boat. 

“”I’ve sailed with Izzy for nearly 13 years,” Fang said. “Never seen him as content as he is now. Not even during the best days of Blackbeard. He used to mention he knew Sam Bellamy when he was younger, but we had no idea just how close they were.” 

“You think its just puppy love? Lucius is convinced Sam’s just out to get his leg over.”

Fang shrugged, turning his eyes to Wee John. 

“Gifts, doctors, sweetness and meeting the family? Lot of effort just to get a man into bed. Even Izzy’s not that fussy. All I know, is Izzy seems happy. And I like the way Sam looked at him. Like he’s special.”

“Let’s hope this is the real deal then. And that this one will leave his limbs intact.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

Chapter Text

The next time a boat full of Sam Bellamy's men arrived, it was lacking the man himself. Instead, a scrap of parchment was passed to Izzy from a shy looking man, who could barely meet his eye. The note was brief, merely a passing of apologies and a promise to be on the next run. 

The pitying look he spied on Roach and Fangs faces made him want to snarl.

Izzys hurt presented as rage, and he scowled and threw himself into repairs, drinking and cursing. The thought that it was over; that whatever drew Sam here had faded into nothing, was sharper than the pain of a blade or a whip. 

Even Edwards careless disregard didn’t hurt this sharply, the edge of that particular weapon blunt and clumsy. 

So when Sam Bellamy did indeed appear with the next ship, full of apologise and eager to reunite, Izzy was too raw to be welcoming. Curt and brist and shrugging off the easy affection that felt so natural. 

After a day, Sam was blunt, demanding to know the issue Izzy was nurturing. Insults were hurled, accusations thrown and threats spat. But then promises were revisited, memories shared and feelings alluded to. 

Izzy chose to focus on the promise; the fact that Sam did come back. 

Sam focused on Izzy missing him, wanting him back. 

Together, they edged towards a new balance. 

Xxx

Sam would be delayed again, this time only by about a week. Izzy took the news from the messages with a sigh, rolling his eyes and wondering what outlandish tale Sam would have for him this time. Hobbling to this shack, he broke open a new bottle of rum, content to let the day pass him by in a boozy haze. 

He was allowed 2 days' peace before Olu and Jim descended on the shack and dragged him out fishing. Then, the following day they took the long walk to town for provisions. The third day Izzy told them to piss off and leave him alone. They were back on day four, this time lounging around the shack. The crew had been gone 10 days now, and the island life was starting to wear thin. 

“I am so bored,” Jim said loudly to the ceiling, splaying their arms as if in prayer. 

“Then you should have fucked off with the others! Don’t know why your all so fucking ‘vacation ready’ at the moment anyhow.” Izzy shot back, not bothering to look away from his tool sharpening. 

“Let's go see what Stede and Ed are up to,” Olu declared, slapping his hands together before getting to his feet. “Saw Ed rolling in more barrels so the bars open at least.”

Jim raised an eyebrow to Izzy, who shook his head in response. Jim shrugged, joining Olu next to the door and preparing to offer bringing back a fresh bottle when-

“Jesus Christ the world is run by idiots!”

The roaring declaration burst into the shack (along with the door flinging open and narrowly missing Olu) 

Sam stormed into the shack, nothing bothering to greet Izzy and immediately heading to dump his knapsack on the bed, while he continued his tirade. 

“Sticking their noses in, always trying to get more - greedy cunts! They actually threatened me! Me! I fucking own their navys!  I swear to god Israel, fucking your own counsin makes for breeding utter idiots!” Sam raged, finally looking around the room and noticing Jim and Olu who remained by the door and looked taken aback. 

Sam breathed a long sigh that turned into a groan as he let his head drop.

“Great,” he muttered into his chest. “More dangerous friends.”

Izzy watched, a grin widening as he literally saw Sam put his best face on, a winning smile replacing the look of utter annoyance he had entered the shack with. 

“Sam Ballamy,” he offered with a small bow. “I’m not normally so rude, but it’s been a trying week.”

“Sounds it,” Olu snorted, amused now the anger in the room seemed to have died. “Royals man. Er, I’m Olu and the person with the knife is Jim.” 

Same raised an eyebrow, eyes trailing over Jim. 

“Jim huh. Well, nice to meet you both.”

Olu and Jim watched in grotesque fascination as Sam leaned down to embrace Izzy where he sat, pressing a quick kiss to Izzys mussed up hair. It was made weirder by the gentle smile Izzy gave the man in return. Fang was right - Izzy looked smitten. 

“So, what plans have I so rudely interrupted?” Sam asked, sinking to the chair with a groan. 

“No plans,” Izzy said looking at the loitoring pair. “Unless you two actually wanted something?” 

Olu floundered for a moment but Jim was quick off the draw. 

“You up for a spar old man. See if your throwing game is any better.”

“Fuck all wrong with my throws!” Izzy shot back, giving Jim the finger. 

Jim just raised an eyebrow. 

“Prove it. Old man.” 

Izzy glared at Jim, the familiar competition friendly but still fierce. He had never let the invite go before, but…

Izzy glanced at Sam, hesitating to speak. Sam grinned, looking between Izzy and Jim. 

“Oh don’t let me stop you sweets. After the shit show of the week I’ve had, I could use the entertainment. Should have left my shit at the door anyway.”

“Grab your knives Jimenez.”

Xxx

Jim and Izzy had set up a small area to train and spar up in the flatter area just above the beach and hidden by a few trees facing the inn. They had hacked a wide circle clear, loaded it with barrels and a makeshift training dummy. Last time, Izzy had made a throwing board from damaged ship wood. 

It was here he and Jim practised their throws, before deciding a sword fight would be more fun. 

Olu and Sam just sat watching, sitting on a log placed there for just that reason. Both offered a commentary of the events, each dragging their loved one in a way only they could. 

“So, you and Izzy go way back huh?” Olu said, the casualness of his voice betrayed by his curious eyes. 

“Way back to the beginning, or close enough at any rate,” Sam replied, eyes following the shapes of Jim and Izzy on the sand. “Izzy was still sporting a baby face when we first met.”

“Jeez man, can’t even imagine Izzy with a baby face,” Olu smiled, trying to trace the young man in Izzy’s bones. “I thought he was born fully formed and swearing.”

“Oh no my friend,” Sam whispered, a wide smile on his face. “He was once a sweet young man of 18. All flushed skin and wide eyes, still soft on the belly despite being feral from the Navy. Had to fix that bloody sharpish but he was smart, quick, keen. A vicious little terrier. Fucking adored watching him work and fight. We were close as thieves. An untouchable pair of fighters. As long as Izzy and I stood together, I knew I had my back covered. Izzy always made things work - nothing ever threw him! Was like finding something you had been looking for your whole life.

“So how come you separated? I mean…if you were so close?”

Sam took a deep breath, and Olu noticed his eyes losing focus, as he fell back into a past long lived. 

“We both had different paths. I mutinied before I was booted or gutted. Izzy was on a different ship at the time - I think Hornigold wanted him out of the way of helping me. When we finally caught up to each other a few months later…I was too wrapped up in captaincy to even consider another person and Izzy had responsibilities on ship he wasn’t willing to betray. We made a choice. We both…just wanted more from life. Then Izzy started to help Teach, had a reputation to build, and I ended up shipwrecked and ‘dying’. We just…seemed lost to each other. Until now at least.”

“Seems like a pretty improbable thing to happen,” Olu agreed. “But…you know, a lot of improbable things seem to happen at sea. Accidentally killing twins separately, finding a cursed coat, surviving falling into the sea…turning into a seagull.” 

“Exact- wait, run that last one by me again!?”

Xxx

“You seem all cosy with the tall man Hands,” Jim panted, wiping the sweat from their brow. “It’s oddly sweet and yet terrifying.” 

“No more scary than what you pair, Archie and Zheng have going on,” Izzy replied, catching his own breath. “Least we know who’s hand it is in the dark.” 

Jim pulled out a mock smile and ‘ha, ha’, standing straight with their hands on their hips. The two fighters looked towards the log were Olu and Sam were talking, the shorter man doing some sort of bird impression and Sam looking utterly confused. 

“You trust him?”

“Yeah. He’s a slippery fuck whose killed for purpose but, he’s always been a good man. Deep down. Normally I can tell when he’s lying anyway.”

Jim hummed, face twisting into concern for a moment. Before Izzy could ask, or deflect, they stood closer, placing their hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eye. 

“Don’t put up with any shit from him Izzy. If he gives you grief, or hurts you, walk away and come to us. No questions asked or answers needed. Just come to us. Don’t let anyone tell you you don’t have options.”

Staring at Jims serious face, gaping like a fish, Izzy was choked by the words, crushed by the weight of the promise. By the care. By the very idea that he had people . People who would look out for him and take him on and -

“I will.” 

It was a gruff promise, but Jim smiled and squeezed his shoulder just a bit, happier and relaxing. Izzy found himself feeling loose and free, renewed by the gentle connection and part of something bigger than just his shack. 

Both were saved from having to wallow in their feelings by a sudden shout from Olu -

“They’re back!” 

A ship was on the horizon.

“You sure it’s them,” Jim questioned, running back to Olu and trying to glimpse the flag. 

“One of yours Sam?” Izzy called over his shoulder, eyes never leaving the ship. 

“No- nothing of mine is due for another 12 days.”

Sam walked to stand by Izzy, hackles raised and mind sharp. It was a big ship, and he quickly ran through the list of boys on land, thinking of the route to the town, the places to get high, the weapons he knew were stashed. 

Izzy long sigh startled him out of his planning. 

“Yeah, it’s them,” he said tiredly, catching the shapes jumping wildly on the deck and spotting the flag as it came into view. “Early. That’s never a good thing…”

Xxx

It wasn’t a good thing, but neither was it a disaster. The ship had taken some hits that needed some real repairs, and the crew had decided to turn back rather than push on. Minor injuries (Fangs strained back the worst of the lot) were treated quickly, and Izzy looked at every member for hidden wounds. Lucius had done a rather detailed review of the damage (including pictures) and Izzy listened as the crew divided tasks, chipping in with his superior knowledge where it offered a benefit. 

Sam watched it all from the shadows, smiling as he watched Izzy fuss over the crew, just as he always had.  

Xxx

The sun had just dipped out of sight when Izzy finally rushed the crew from his shack with an order to go to the inn and get pissed. He shouted times to be awake in the morning, finally slammed the door of the twilight.

To Sam’s pleasure, Izzy breathed a sigh of relief and pulled him close when they were finally alone. Relaxing in strong arms, Sam breathed in the salt and musk of the other man, humming in contentment. 

“Thought they would never fuck off,” Izzy muttered as he pulled back. “Drink?” 

With a smirk, Sam went to his discarded bag and pulled a large bottle of something expensive from it. Izzy cheered, grabbing two tin cups and settling at the table. 

“This is why I let you in,” he stated as Sam poured, easing his wooden hoof off his thigh. 

“This, and my pretty eyes,” Sam flirted with a flutter. 

Finally alone, Sam told Izzy more details of his utterly shit week. Izzy hummed in the right places and laughed at Sam's description of the royals and their arse kissers. He gave Sam a score out of 10 for his comebacks and a gold star for his solution (which involved a mistress, boiling water and a fig). Sam felt himself let go of everything, his focus once more on his old friend and lover, trying to make him smile in that special way that made his eye teeth show. 

“Fuck me, I have to be honest, I don’t miss that side of the life - all the politics and side eyeing. Never was any good at it,” Izzy said. “Eddie was…well, we got by on his charm anyway.”

“If the legend does the talking for you, you know it was a good one,” Sam agreed, not wanting to talk about Teach in any detail. “I’m hoping to pull back from it all more now…John can take more, or I can just let it all drift.”

“As if you would let it all go,” Izzy snorted into his drink.

“I would!” Sam protested. “I can’t take the lot with me to the next life! Much prefer to live to enjoy the rest of my days, then work the rest of them.”

“You’d be bored in a week,” Izzy teased, still not believing the words. Sam was a covertus man, always striving and moving. Even in this so called death, he was playing the big games. 

“How could I be bored! I’ll have plenty to do! Reading, painting, carving, socialising…you?”

Izzy let out a snort, kicking Sam with his good leg and rolling his eyes as he refilled his drink. 

“Keep pulling my leg like that and it’ll fall off,” he said, smiling wide and full of fondness. 

Sam still could make him feel special. 

“Speaking off!” Sam said, slamming his mug on the table. “I got you something - don’t throw it at me, it cost me fortune.”

Izzy shouted his usual threats and warnings, half annoyed and half thrilled when Sam bought him things. Between Sam’s quality gifts, and the crew's happy finds, he was starting to feel like a spoiled pack horse. 

All warm feelings froze and he lost his voice when Sam pushed a wooden object in his arms, its identity obvious and yet foreign to Izzy. 

A leg…

It was solid, but oddly light. The varnish made it smooth and shiney. In the cup, cotton stuffed silk lined the wood, promising a comfortable pressure. The straps boosted the same lining, one shorter one that could wrap below his knee and one that would hug his thigh. A knee guard protruded up, and the base held a carved foot shaped wedge, giving a wider standing surface. 

It was a beautiful prosthetic. 

It made Izzy feel…sad.. 

“It’s got to be more comfortable then this one,” Sam smiled, picking up his unicorn hoof. “This was great to see you through, but it's the wrong height and shape - and heavy as sin. That one will suit you much better - made it bespoke for you after all. Murdock made a note of your measurements, said this is perfectly sized and should let you use your knee!”

Izzy could feel the scowl on this face, feel the annoyance that was starting to alight within him. He looked at his hoof in Sam’s hands, feeling oddly violated as the other man so casually threw it around.  

It was his. Yeah, it may be shit and weigh a ton and be shaped by a mythical creature's leg, but it was his . His Leg. The thing that helped him back when he drank to chase after death. The thing that gave him back some type of independence and normality. Something that gave him back his sword! 

Something…something that meant people actually saw him - saw him in pain and actually gave a shit. Did something nice for him - just because. 

That unicorn hoof was the most precious thing he had ever been given (aside from his mothers ring). He couldn’t get rid of it just because something ‘better’ came along. 

It meant too much and Izzy wasn’t like that. 

Sam was still staring at him, eagerness gone from his face as he watched Izzy closely, trying to read what was going on. This was not the reaction he had been inspecting. 

Dropping his eyes, Izzy looked over the leg again, feeling the sterility and the perfection in its form. 

He didn’t like it. There was no reason for that thought, but it was true. 

“It’s a great leg Sam,” Izzy said, choosing his words carefully as he put down the new limb. “But I like my old one. I’m used to it.”

Placing the new leg on the table, Izzy gestured for Sam to hand him his hoof and he stroked it as he lay it back down by his side. 

“It’s a better leg Israel. Made to fit. Your…hoof, it’s too long and heavy-“

“Sam, I don't need you to fix every bloody thing!” Izzy spat, frustration bubbling. “Look - thanks. Alright - it’s great. But I’m good with my old one. Maybe, maybe when my legs sore or, I have to go to town but…but I prefer my hoof. And I’m done talking about it.” 

Sam wanted to argue. Wanted to shake Izzy to see sense. But he knew it would be pointless - Izzy had made his mind up, and nothing on God’s earth would change it now. That still didn’t stop the squirm of rejection that settled in his gut, the impotant urge to help. Sam saw the pain on Izzy's face, saw the ripped and bruised skin. With God’s grace, Izzy still had another 20 years left, and they would be spent with a raw limp and worn joints. 

“I’m going for a walk,” Sam muttered, frustration bleeding from him. “I’ll take this if it’s no use to you.”

That was said out of spite, and a hint of whining. 

Izzy let him go, knowing words would offer no soothing until Sam had licked his wounded pride. He was surprised by how much it still hurt to see the other man walk away. 

Xxx

Sam stomped his way to the beach, stopping by the inn to lift a bottle of whiskey. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes nor match anyways smile. He hid the leg under his coat, heading away from the lamplight and finding a seaweed ridden dune to sit upon. Uncorking the bottle, he slugged a burning mouthful, tilting his head back to look at the stars as he cursed his own pride. 

He knew it was presumptuous. He knew it was a long shot. Still, it hurt to feel so helpless. 

He had built an empire; a black market on which the world was run. He pulled the strings and whispered in the ears of the powerful. He had survived death itself and knew he would be talked about in the century’s to come. 

But still, he couldn’t give Israel Hands what he needed.

Losing himself to his self flagulations, the bottle getting lighter, he missed the tell tell sounds of a rather clumsy body heading over the sands. By the time he heard muffled swearing, the body was already upon him. 

“What’s a handsome criminal like you doing all alone on a beach like this?” Lucius asked, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Lovers tiff? It’s only been like an hour.”

“Go bury your head in the piss pot,” Sam said in return, too morose to play any games. 

“Wow, not in a playful mood I see,” Lucius said primly, awkwardly sitting on the bank an arms length away. 

“No, and very poor company,” Sam said, irritation at being interrupted bleeding into his voice. 

“What happened?” 

The question had no tease or play in it. What was a soft demand, and Sam found he didn’t care to keep it to himself. These were Izzy's people - they would find out eventually anyway. He fumbled at his side, grabbing the leg by the foot and pulling it into the moonlight. 

“Apparently limbs arn’t the new way to say ‘I love you’”,” Sam said dryly, turning the wood around in his hand. “Apparently this is not as good as that hoof he hobbles around on. It cripples him, causes blisters and rubs the skin raw, but, it’s what he wants. And I have to watch him choose pain for some poxy reason I just can’t fathom. It’s exhausting…watching someone you love choose the hard road. And nothing I can do will change his minds once it’s made up! Oh no! Stubborn as a fucking ox. With a wonky fucking leg.”

It was childish and stupid but Sam felt better for the rant. 

Lucius was quiet for a moment, looking at Sam with clever eyes and squinting to look at the leg in the limited light. 

“Yeah, Izzy is an immovable force when he wants to be,” he muttered, seemingly lost in thought. “Got a lot of pride…”

“Got a worlds worth of fucking stubbornness as well.”

They sat in silence for several moments, and Sam was starting to feel woozy when the boy jumped to his feet, dusting himself down. Sam eyed him lazily 

“Give it here,” Lucius commanded, holding out his hand. Sam tossed him the leg, uncaring of what the scribe planned to do with it.

The leg only mattered if Izzy cared for it. Without that, it was just a chunk of wood. 

Sam continued to drink as he watched the moon move across the sky. Soon, Lucius left, leg still in his hand  and he let him go without a word. 

Xxx

“This feels like vandalism,” Frenchie said, concern loud in his voice. 

“Nah, it’s just putting on some final touches,” Fang replied. 

“Looks a damn sight more proper then what we rustled up, that’s for sure.”

“Man spent the big money - I think this will even let Izzy use his knee,” Roached pipped out, pricking his thumb on his blade as he tested the sharpness. 

“Look, just do it. Ok - quick, before Stede and Ed come over here and want to fucking join in…”

Xxx

The booze had finished, and Sam was floating in blessed dullness. It had been watered down swill, so he wasn’t too off his head, just nicely so. Nicely enough that when he heard footsteps again, he turned his head, surprised to see the boy once more stumbling across the sand. 

“Twice in once night? Should your husband be worried?” Sam called out. Mind you, I’d be far to scared of Izzys wrath so-“ 

A leg was dropped into his lap. 

Glancing down, blinking several times to focus, Sam was taken aback by how rough the leg now looked. Where once smooth wood and varnish glowed, it was now hacked shallowly. Raising it to the light, Sam turned it in his hands, finally recognising that words were carved into the wood. 

Lucius

Pete

John/Calyso

Fang

Roach 

Frenchie

Jim 

Olu

And over the shin, the silhouette of a unicorn on its hind legs was carefully marked out. 

“We’ve all been through shit. A few of us, well, we went through it all together in some way,” Lucius said, sitting awkwardly next to Sam. “The hoof used to belong to the ships figurehead. Izzy hated that it still had two legs, kept attacking it until he ended up sawing the legs off… we took one, changed it up and gave it to him. He…he seemed different after that. Like he had hope again. He was an utter mess and…the leg just seemed to help him crawl out of it.” 

Sam hummed, the meaning hitting him hard. The unity needed to survive the conditions Edward Teach wrought. The loyalty it bred…

“Look, I’m all for anything that makes life easy. This leg could do that. But Izzy is shockingly sentimental,” Lucius scoffed, looking at Sam for confirmation which was gladly given. “Just, offer it again. Tell him it’s crew approved.”

Sam started the leg, feeling a smile start to bloom. Since he had found Izzy, this man and his merry lot had been there - keeping an eye on him, monitoring  Izzy. It made more sense now, and after seeing how Izzy fussed and checked on them when they returned, Sam could see it all as clear as day. 

They were family. They were protecting their own. They had lived something Sam had no hope of understanding, and held shared meanings that were nonsense to any onlooker. This was not something he could force his way in, or reason Izzy to abandon. 

“I think you, and the other dangerous friends should show him how you made it better,” Sam said, handing Lucius the leg back. “This is something you all share with him - it’s got nothing to do with me. All I can do, is offer the options, and then shut up until Izzy asks me otherwise.”

Sam's smile made his words soft and kind, an admittance that, in this at least, money and logic had no part to play. Izzys…family, did. 

Lucius smiled widely, taking the leg back and stroking it from foot to cup. 

“Least the carving will make it interesting to play footsies,” he said flippantly, trying to lighten the heavy air around them. Sam laughed, letting the mood shift. 

“It was more the quick release of the new straps I was excited about,” he offered back with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “Mind you, if I bring you another leg you think you could carve a stocking effect?”

Lucius spat out a laugh. 

“Oh Sammy baby, I need to show you my sketch book…”

Xxx

The moon was at it’s highest point and Sam still wasn’t back. Izzy sat at the table, trying desperately not to look at the door, not to focus on Sam’s absence. They used to do this before; one would walk away to keep their emotions in check - normally it was Sam doing the walking. 

And Izzy was always waiting, scared that he would end up waiting the rest of his life. That he had burnt it to ashes and there was nothing left…

A hard knock shook Izzy out of his head, hushed whispers hitting his ears.

“Go away!” He yelled out, too busy wallowing to want to spare his attention. 

There was a pause for a few beats, before the knocking started again, many hands frantically hitting at his door at a deafening volume. 

Feeling a spike of rage, Izzy launched to his feet, stomping and shouting that they best scarper before he stabbed them. 

“Insufferable, fucking TWA-“ Izzys shouts of anger burst into the night as he flung the door open, only to hear the patter of running feet in all directions. Anger, annoyance and confusion flooded him, eyes quickly taking in the shadows of the night, trying to work out who and what and why. 

Ironically, he tripped over the ‘what’. His foot knocked something leaning against the door frame, and Izzy looked at where it lay sprawled out, trying to make sense of the vision before him. As it registered, his mouth dropped open, and his heart gave a hard squeeze in his chest. 

It was the leg Sam had brought for him. But…it was…different. 

Kneeling carefully to pick it up, Izzy stared at it, as he backed into the shack, staring at the leg under yellow candle light. He traced the carvings with his fingers, feeling Frenchies jagged hands, Petes smooth letters, Jim stabbing blade. The unicorn forced him to sniff, gulping back tears that threatened to overflow. 

The stupid fuckers had made it better…fixed it. 

“You may want to get Sammy to revarnish it, but it's still a good leg.”

Izzy took a deep breath as Lucius tentatively walked into the room, face curiously taking in the scene.  Izzy sniffed again, giving the boy a shaky nod. 

“Yeah. Yeah, um, Sam…Sam said it was made by a proper doctor - made to measure.”

“That’s good,” Lucius soothed, sitting at the table and encouraging Izzy to join him. “I mean, the hoof is iconic, but sometimes you need to find something that works better.”

“Nothing wrong with my hoof,” Izzy said, overwhelmed by feelings  he could barely name. 

“Yeah, but…this is much nicer,” Lucius smiled softly. “Looks more comfortable at least. You tried it on yet?”

Izzy shook his head, but seeing Lucius’s face he took the hint. 

It felt like an event. 

Izzy took off his hoof carefully, holding it with care and placing it safe next to the fireplace. It looked tired and worn and Izzy felt a pang of loss. Still, he picked up the new leg, fiddling with the straps as he worked out how to attach it safely. 

The socket was smooth and cool against his skin, a soft padding that hugged his wasted limb and let his knee socket hang down into the cup. The straps were like butter, wrapping snuggly just under and above his knee. It was lighter, his knee not quivering with holding the weight aloft while he tied it on, and when he put his new foot to the floor it landed with a delicate thump. Bracing himself against the table, Izzy slowly stood, balancing his weight from his good to his bad limb as he explored the new feeling. 

The cup was comfortable and there was no intense pressure where his stump met the wood. The foot was sturdy, and Izzy carefully moved his knee and hip, noting how little his centre of gravity moved. After a few moments, he noticed an absence of pressure at his hip, the shorter limb not pressing up into his hip joint. 

It felt…comfortable. 

“How’s that feeling?” Lucius asked eagerly, leaning over the table. “Take a few steps, get the feel of it.”

Izzy did as he was bid, a little shaky on the new limb, but moving quicker from the small changes. His hip didn’t need to swing out as far, there was a tiny bend allowed in the knee, and the lightness brought speed to the movement. 

“Ok, I’m sold. That looks way more comfortable than the hoof,” Lucius grinned in approval. “Top marks to your boyfriend for attention to detail!”

“Not my boyfriend,” Izzy mumbled, still taking learning steps around the shack. “Not fucking 12 year olds snogging behind a tree.”

“Paramour, sugar daddy, lover, roommate-  whatever,” Lucius said with a dismissive wave. “Point is, if this is his version of taking care of you - Mr Bellamy wins my approval.”

“I’ll arrange the church,” Izzy snarked, making his way back to his chair. “He’s an interfering twat when he wants to be. He go crying to you? That how you managed to get involved in all this?”

“Saw him sneaking off with a face of thunder and I was nosy,” Lucuis said with a shrug. “Told me about the leg, and I got the idea. Know you're a soppy git deep down under all those wrinkles and scowls.”

“Fuck you Sprigs,” Izzy said, sounding fonder then he had meant to. “Don’t need you lot sticking your oar in all the time.”

“And we don’t need you chasing us around and checking on us. But you do. So we do. Can’t risk our unicorn getting damaged any more.”

Izzy just grunted, a wave of tiredness making him feel heavy. Today had been full of too many people, too many changes and too many poxy feelings. 

“Look, it’s gone midnight. Sammy is pouting on the dunes towards town - next to where Roach caught that rat when we first arrived. Go and get him and ‘let it go’.”

Lucius words gave Izzy a clear path of action and a reminder that life was always moving forward. With a lingering look to his hoof, Izzy rose to his feet and took tentative steps towards the door, with Lucius close behind him. 

Xxx

Sam was debating getting up and facing the music when yet again, steps started to approach him. Expecting Lucius again, he just turned his head, eyes widening in pleasant surprise when he saw Izzy heading towards him. The light of the moon was white and clear, shining off the sea, and Sam could see that Izzy’s hips moved differently, and the shape of his legs were different then before…

“Nice leg,” Sam shouted out, feeling something loosening its grip in his chest. 

“Thanks, carved it myself from a British mast,” Izzy teased, lowering himself to sit next to Sam. “While the ship was on fire.”

“While blindfolded?”

“And one handed.” Izzy replied with total conviction. 

“Bet you hacked off your real leg just so you would have an excuse to wear it.”

“Well can’t let good wood go to waste.”

Sam snorted, happiness warming him along side Izzy. 

They sat in silence for a few moments watching the tide move in. 

“You got a good bunch of lads around you Israel,” Sam said, turning to Izzy with a smile. “Weirdest bunch I’ve ever met, but…good.”

“Aye,” Izzy sighed, “They are. Wanted to hang them all when we first met and they did try and throw me overboard once but…yeah. They’re a good bunch. I’m…I’m grateful for them.”

“No finer family than those who’ve walked in hell alongside you,” Sam said with a toast of his empty bottle. “Mine is a man called Rhys Talbot - you’ll have to meet him soon…So, the foot; is it any better? You don’t have to wear it for my feelings Izzy.”

“You know it’s better you prat,” Izzy scoffed, lifting his knee and looking at the wood in the moonlight. “Feels less like my hips going to pop out of the joint every step. The silks a nice touch too - cooling.”

“Murdock oversaw the design - said it would be better on your skin,” Sam offered, reaching out a hand to trail it up the limb. “The names make a nice touch you know. Makes it look lived in.”

Izzy smiled at that, fondness flooding him. Fondness for the crew, and for the man who was trying so hard. 

They all meant so much to Izzy, it was dizzying. 

An idea hit him. 

“Got a knife?”

“Always,” Sam replied without hesitation. 

Izzy shuffled away from Sam, turning his body to face him as he got further away. Ignoring Sam’s questioning eyebrow, Izzy carefully shoved his wooden foot into Sam's thigh, leaning back on his elbows for balance. 

“It’s missing a name.” Was the only hint Izzy gave Sam as to what he wanted. 

Sams face burst into a smile, and he produced his knife with a flourish, carefully eyeing the foot wedge and working out his placement using the moonlight and touch to guide himself.

It would have been easier if Izzy took the limb off, but Sam didn’t ask and Izzy didn’t offer. Instead, Sam poured himself over the foot, carefully shaving away wood to leave his name scarred into Izzy's leg, along with the names of all those who claimed him for theirs. Sam was gentle, carefully stroking away the wooden shards, treating it as delicately as a tattoo on skin. 

Izzy felt restful, the gentle tugs on his knee a connection to what was happening. He smiled when he saw how carefully Sam’s hand curled around the mock ankle, how he dug out wooden castoffs with a gentle hand. 

And when he was done, Izzy looked down to see Sam’s name carved out above where toes should be, feeling a sense of completion he never thought he would get to feel.