Chapter Text
4 months before
The sunset dyed the sky with peaches and pinks, shades of colour Stede had only ever seen adorning peonies his mother grew, as the Revenge’s sails snapped to attention, billowed in the wind, and started to carry his greatest creation across the ocean. Well. Third greatest. Soon to be fourth. Possibly. There was really no telling at this stage.
Arm in arm, Stede and Ed watched the Revenge slide into the distance. Only when it was distant enough that not even the most powerful eyeglass would be able to discern their presence did they turn back towards the cabin on the hill. Bickering on the way felt like second nature.
They were on their way to a new beginning. No more Ned Lows, no more nights on deck telling stories, no more raids or rum-soaked ports or treasure. Something new. Inn keepers. Partners.
No more beautifully appointed cabin, the only thing that had ever been wholly is. Instead… this place. This fixer-upper. Yes…
Stede was picking his way around a hole in the flooring when a figure emerged from the bedroom.
“You’ve left my fucking hoof on my fucking grave.”
Stede promptly fell into the hole. It wasn’t Izzy’s presence that startled him; not at all, it was the point of all of this. No, nor the sight of him in a cream cotton shirt that once would have been loose and now was straining against his growing stomach. His leathers had done a remarkable job of hiding his pregnancy, but like this it was undeniable. Stede was just… reactive. Like good pirates should be. On guard. En guard even.
Was this island French? Someone would probably need to figure that out at some point. Would they need to register their residency, or were they just… claiming this land?
“Twat,” Izzy sighed as Ed reached down to help Stede out of his predicament. His rather filthy predicament, Stede realised, wrinkling his nose at the disgusting mix of detritus that clung to his breeches.
“Well, these are certainly safe and sanitary conditions to raise a child in,” Stede snipped through his embarrassment.
With the churning of the sea at a distance, Stede heard Izzy swallow a noise that might have been argument, might have been alarm. Stede dropped his hand from brushing off the dirt - the worst of it was gone already. But he still didn’t know how to comfort this man outside of the bedroom. This man who’d just given up what he’d known of life to make a new one far more literally than Stede and Ed.
“I mean… Not yet.” Stede cast about the space for inspiration. “That room there, looking out to the sea. That could be a nice nursery once it’s got some windows. And. All four walls. And there’s something to be said for open plan arrangements when you want to be keeping an eye on the little one while doing your own thing. Maybe it’s a good thing there’s… this gap here.”
“And you’ll be fetching the wood to repair that hole in the floor will you?” Izzy shot back.
“Of course Israel. I mean. There’re plenty of. Of trees. All around.”
“You know how to repair floors? That’s a secret talent you’ve been hiding from us all this time.”
“Well I’ve hardly had chance to demonstrate it have I? And there’ll be…. Books. About. Woodwork. Somewhere.”
“Where exactly?”
Stede stumbled to a halt at that one. They knew nothing about this place but even he was pretty confident there wasn’t a box of books about carpentry hiding up the fireplace.
There was so much of this he didn’t know how to do. And there’d be no hiding it this time.
Beside Stede, Ed’s gaze swivelled between the pair of them. The both of them discomforted.
“I’ll go get the leg,” he offered, and all but jumped out of the room.
A “fuck” slipped from Izzy as reflex.
There were grains of dirt beneath Stede’s fingernails. He could feel them, the irritants. They wanted him to clean up, to insert beauty, but there were so many things screaming at him that they were wrong. Izzy most of all. Not just the argument - because Izzy was right there. No, it was Izzy’s sallow cheeks that were wrong, and the sweat that had nothing to do with the Caribbean heat. Izzy’s hand hovered not over his belly, but over his side where the bandages undoubtedly itched.
“Well,” Stede blustered. “A list! That’s what we need. Should get started on. All the… floors. And the walls. I guess the structure generally.”
“You weren’t wrong,” Izzy interjected. His hazel eyes slid towards the door and back to Stede, making a contact that screamed of confidentiality. “This is no place for kids. And I don’t trust you fuckers to get it ready before your progeny makes its way out of me.”
“But this is Ed’s dream. We can’t give that up before we’ve even-”
Izzy’s growl cut him off before his protest could muster any momentum. “You really want to talk about giving shit up?”
Stede looked at a man who had given up his life, his crew, was even giving up his body, and watched him slide slightly down the wall. He shouldn’t have been out of bed. He definitely shouldn’t have had to be smuggled off his ship to stagger into a crumbling cabin to hide from his own fake funeral in order to avoid revealing his continued existence and therefore his pregnancy. But here they were.
“They’ll miss you.” And Stede knew he’d hit his mark when Izzy turned sharply away. In the dim orange light, his eyes shone in a way he’d deny until the cows came home. And Stede didn’t think this island had that many cows.
Unwilling to let Izzy struggle with the grief alone, Stede reached out. Embrace was shrugged away in a snap of shoulder bone, but Stede just slid his hand down until it cover Izzy’s own. There was a deep, shuddering sigh that hitched half-way through - severed abdominal muscles protesting the movement. Then Izzy’s hand twisted and fingers laced through Stede’s.
Safe comfort. Contact that didn’t patronise or make him feel small. Shorter hands than Ed’s, rougher, but the both of them held on as tight as each other. Locked up. Possession. Pirates refusing to let go of their treasure. “They’ll forgive you, you know?”
“Shut up Bonnett.” Stede hated it when Izzy’s face screwed up with such self-directed revulsion.
“But they will. The crew will be so pleased you’re alive -”
“They’re not going to know,” Izzy snapped, and his fury was a dark spittled storm. “They can’t. It’s bad enough - they can’t. I’ll have a baby that looks like me and one of you two fuckers, and Jimenez and the boy can do the maths even if the rest are gormless shites. And sure, none of them’ll give a fuck that I’ve got a cunt but not one of those twats can keep a secret and I will not, not have every bastard who’se ever taken up an oar on each and every fucking one of the seven fucking seas thinking Izzy Hands is some fucking damsel. Worse, a bitch for claiming.”
They’d been through this a dozen times or more; Izzy determined that he had to disappear, insisting that he’d already destroyed one version of himself when he burned his skirts and ran off to sea, so what did another one matter? But they had always been calm, almost detached. Fun sometimes - a fuckery, an adventure. Stede cursed himself for not realising before what lay behind that stoic, stubborn veneer.
There might be no body in the ground, but there was still a lost life to grieve, wasn’t there?
Unable to help himself anymore, Stede crossed the remaining distance between them and slid his free arm around Izzy’s waist. The other man was clinging onto the doorframe for balance and, Stede suspected, because he was presently no stranger to bloodloss. It meant Izzy had no means to effectively defend himself from the embrace, except to spit, “What the - fuck off, I don’t -”
“Izzy, why don’t you be the one to shut up for once?” Stede proposed, as kindly as he could (not very).
There was a run of cursing, but the height difference meant it was muffled into Stede’s shoulder. The height difference and the fact that Izzy was letting himself be held if not entirely comforted. All the ritual protest, the hand Izzy was using to prop himself up came to rest on Stede’s back instead.
Softly, Stede said, “You’re shaking.”
“I’m standing on one fucking leg being held up by a man softer than Roach’s ‘marsh mallows’.”
“When was the last time you ate?” Stede asked, even as he shifted his hold to take on more of Izzy’s ever-increasing weight. His arms burned, but he wasn’t about to let on.
Izzy shrugged. Then winced. That gunshot wound might not have been fatal, but it wasn’t fun.
“Oh! We have wedding leftovers. Roach put some aside for you.” The only crew member who knew about Izzy’s pregnancy, that he still lived. Roach had his own reasons to be sympathetic of course. “How does wedding breakfast in bed sound? There’s no cake I’m afraid - Frenchie turned positively green when Lucius and Pete were debating the merits of vanilla versus lemon sponges, though I haven’t the foggiest why. Wedding doughnuts were the compromise, would you believe it? Not warm anymore but-”
-
Present day
Izzy hated that he’d started to like Stede’s tendency to ramble. Like? Perhaps too strong a word, but how else was he meant to describe that feeling it gave him? The numbing of a life lived too sharply. The anchor it gave him when some cowardly part wanted to run away.
Maybe in some ways, it reminded him of the sea - the constant hum; that there was comfort in the slightly unpredictable rhythm, big waves and small ones slapping and lapping in turns against his hull, often regardless of how he felt about it all. Maybe it just told him he wasn’t alone.
Maybe Izzy was just going soft in his dotage.
Yes, that was probably it. He was like one of those cats who went from feral to lap cat the moment it was transplanted into an old lady’s house, Bonnet his trapper and Ed no better.
The contraction which had been circling across Izzy’s belly tightened another notch, but Izzy didn’t need to reach for distraction because Stede was there rambling on and on about a snake he’d found while gardening and oh Izzy, you musn’t tell Ed I snuck it away down the hill instead of killing it, it really was a beautiful specimen.
When the pain released him, Izzy leaned back into his seat and glanced towards the clock. Twelve minutes. Still leagues to go before this child was born.
His long exhale made Stede pause. “Alright?”
“Better than you’ll be when Ed learns you deprived him of snake snacks. What does your fancy book say about speeding this process along?”
“Oh but -” Stede glanced towards the sky. Which was only just starting to tinge with lavender. “Ed’s not home yet.”
“And I should spend longer in pain because he’s arsing around at some fucking flower market?”
“No, I just meant,” Stede visibly swallowed. “Well. One of the things the book suggested was walking.”
“Of fucking course it was.” Izzy was quite keen to be in less pain, not more. And he walked better for any distance with the two of them on hand to help, taking turns to bear his increased weight.
Casting about, Stede offered, “When Mary was in labour, I recall the midwife closing all the windows, stoking up the fire, and burning some rather pungent herbs. I could-”
“The fire? Weren’t both of your kids born in the summer?” Stede had been looking for gifts for them both only a few weeks before. “In fucking Barbados? The hell d’you get that book Bonnet, some torturer’s apprentice?” Vigorously, Izzy shook his head. “It’s fine, it’s - I’ll just wait it out.” He ran his palms over the swell of his belly, grimacing. They’d started that morning and it was impossible to describe the tangle of dread and relief and anticipation and petrifying fear he’d felt when he’d finally conceded his baby was on its way. The tumult of it surged again now. How strange to be desperate for something to be over and simultaneously petrified?
They were scared too. That’s why Stede wanted Ed here, Izzy knew. Not so he could be witness to the birth of the child that might be his, but to say goodbye if one or both of them didn’t make it out of this.
Izzy wasn’t naive. He was old and he was crippled and he’d drank, Christ how he’d drank -
“Darling. Izzy-” Stede appeared before him, taking up a perch on the large pouffe on which Izzy rested his legs. In a firm, confident voice Izzy wished he’d used a little more often on the Revenge, Stede said, “You’re doing exactly what you need to. You are resting. You are saving your strength. I am certain that’s all you need to do right now, book or no, walk or no.”
Resting. Yeah. Right. All he could do these days was rest this monstrously huge, distorted body. Couldn’t walk for shit, couldn’t leave the house unless it was dark lest a passerby spot a pregnant man and get the wrong - right - idea, couldn’t much help Stede and Ed build their precious new home. Too heavy, too weak, too fucking broken. Just sit in this chair and sweat and leak and hurt.
Until the baby came. It was coming now. Things could go back to normal.
Aware that Stede was still looking at him, aware of the worry Stede would be possessed by, Izzy forced himself to open his eyes where they’d shut on a grimace.
“Just fucking… talk to me will you?”
Eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise, Stede replied, “Of course. What would you like me to -”
“Anything. It helps. Distract me.”
“Alright.” And because Stede wasn’t a prick about it and didn’t get all high and mighty, Izzy sought out his hand and pressed a kiss to golden-haired knuckles. Then another for luck. With Stede a very sweet shade of pink, he began with the air of a story teller. “Well. If you think the thing with the snake was mad, wait until you hear about the crab.”
As the ribbons of the story began to unwind, Izzy leaned back, closed his eyes, and tried his damndest to float away into a world in which he already held his baby in his arms and Ed had him in his. That was better.
-
6 months before
“Izzy’s not getting better.”
Stede’s eyes widened as he took in the mess of the Captain’s cabin. Ed had tossed their belongings… everywhere, and come to a halt on his knees by their bed. Combined with the wild look in his eyes, Stede wondered if this was what Ed had been like after he left - close to it at least. Manic in a way that frightened most people, and challenged Stede to choose between stern and soft.
Striving for neutrality for the moment, Stede asked, “What are you looking for?”
“Your medicine chest.” Ed’s knuckles grasped at the edge of their mattress, whitening with tension. “I know I was out of it, but I wouldn’t have thrown that out would I?”
Stede stayed quiet, and Ed read the truth from that.
“Fuuuck.” Ed slumped and buried his forehead into the bed. Stede hurried near. His hand settled on Ed’s back, tracing the sweatdamp cotton of his borrowed nightshirt.
“Sweetheart. Whatever it is, we’ll sort it. We’ll find a port, a doctor - we’ll get him better.”
“But he won’t go. Izzy hates doctors more than he hates priests. And this is the sixth time he’s thrown up - that we know about,” Ed protested. “This morning, I caught him on the fo’c’sle again. You know he won’t talk about it. Sea’s calm, food’s the same as it’s ever been. What if he’s really sick Stede?” Watery red eyes raised to Stede’s face, as if he held all the answers. It was the strongest kind of power. His crew didn’t look at him like that, his children certainly didn’t. Only Ed thought Stede had that kind of value.
Maybe because Stede was the one who understood Ed best, and had done from the start. Maybe because all he needed was this heartbeat and those teary eyes to know that Ed was constantly terrified of losing Izzy. That his cat had spent the last of his nine lives with a gun against his skull and a knee pouring blood like a damn fountain. That this tenuous, tentative web of connection they were building between them wasn’t strong enough to bear their differences, and that it would all come tumbling down, and Ed was afraid he couldn’t bear another loss. Ed and Izzy were at least more sensible about curses than their companions, but some superstitions held: if things were going too well, they could tempt disaster. And there were so many disasters that could be had at sea.
Stede slid his hands up so he could frame his beloved’s face. Firmly, he said, “Israel Hands is indestructible. You know that better than any other man alive. Roach has probably just made a change to the food that doesn’t agree with him, and Izzy hasn’t wanted to look weak by telling him.” Which was under-estimating Izzy’s ability to get his own way, Stede knew, but he didn’t much care for any of the other plausible explanations which had occurred to him. And if it brought a tiny spark of hope back to Ed’s dark eyes, he’d done his job. “Look - why don’t I go scope out Roach - pretend something’s wrong with me. You tidy up here before Izzy catches you throwing his shirts about and you have to explain. He’s only just accepted having more than one shirt for God’s sake.”
Which is how Stede found himself bustling off to the galley, fantasy complaints assembling - only to come up short at the sound of voices from within.
Not surprising in itself. Roach was a sociable soul. The surprise was hearing the scrape of Izzy’s low voice.
This was good. Izzy was seeking out help.
This was terrible. Izzy was so sick he was seeking out help.
Heart plunged down somewhere near his navel, Stede froze. He knew he shouldn’t impose on Izzy’s privacy. But… but Ed was so worried. If Stede could just hear enough to put Ed’s mind at ease…
Stede leaned up against the door. Roach’s voice hummed on the other side, thoughtful. “Let’s see you then.”
“Yeah, get your eyefull.”
“Not my type, little man. Hmmm.” Tension seized Stede in place as Roach clearly thought about something and then declared, “Well. It’s definitely growing.”
A squeak of terror threatened to burst free. Growing?? Izzy had a tumour, oh God he really was going to die.
“Fast too.”
Noooo.
“You’re telling me. My leathers aren’t going to fit for long.” Izzy growled under his breath. “Fucking parasite.”
Parasite??? Did Izzy have a giant worm inside him? Or some kind of insect? Stede had read about a wasp parasite that laid its eggs in spiders to take over the spider’s body - could they infect humans? Did Izzy have one of those Amazonian vampire fish attached? Or that grub that replaced fish tongues that Buttons used to tell ghost stories about?
A rustling from the other side of the door tugged at Stede’s attention, but a determined thump of wood on wood jerked him out of his spiral properly. Izzy was standing up.
Stede fled before he could be caught.
What was he going to tell Ed?
-
Present day
What was Stede going to tell Ed if this baby came before he got back? Sure, all the books Stede had bought suggested it would be a while yet. But what if the books were horribly wrong? There’d been that one about the woman who’d given birth to rabbits and another that warned of the risk of selkies if you made love in the ocean at full moon. Then there was the local woman who’d insisted Stede prevent his wife from cutting her hair else the child be malformed, and to avoid ropes to avoid the cord around the babe’s neck And those were just the patently ridiculous. Stede had been scanning the marketplace for raspberry leaves for weeks because one of his books lauded them as a guarantee for a healthy child. But then he’d happened across another book which suggested their use as an abortifacient!
There was so much conflicting advice, sometimes Stede thought it was a wonder that the human race had ever multiplied at all. How the illiterate managed he could not fathom.
“I can hear you panicking from here Bonnet,” Izzy grumbled from where he was propped against the balcony which surrounded the upper level of their home. It was a risk being out here at sunset, but not much of one. The southern side of their building wasn’t visible from the road.
“Sorry. I’m not panicking.”
“Then why are you apologising?”
“Some of us were brought up with manners.”
“And some of us are taught skills with actual use.”
Stede was tempted to argue further, but was caught out by Izzy’s eyes fluttering shut. His face creased as a contraction washed over him.
Diligently, because it was one of only two constructive things he’d been asked to do, Stede checked his watch. Ten minutes since the last. They were definitely getting closer together.
With half a brain, Stede began to talk at Izzy - the weather? Why would Izzy care about the weather? With the other half of Stede’s brain, he wondered whether it was wrong to be struck by just how beautiful Izzy was, when he was suffering? Izzy certainly wouldn’t welcome it. Wouldn't agree. Izzy hated his body right now, even if it was doing something downright holy.
But he was calm and he was strong and he was a fighter. With Mary, labour had been a secret, a shame, something to stifle away and not bother the menfolk with. With Izzy… Dear God, watching Izzy focus in on his body as it prepared to do a miracle, as he faced down pain like it was a ritual, each contraction the next stage, the next sacrifice to call forth their creation… It made Stede want to fall to his knees to worship him.
Ed should be here to see this.
“He’ll be here,” Izzy said, surprisingly level for a man whose insides were constricting.
How much had Stede said out loud?
“Is that not my line?”
“Well you weren’t saying it. It’s okay; know better than to expect you to do your fucking job.”
But Izzy’s eyes were glimmering, amused. It had been a long time since they meant the insults they traded like kisses. As the pain visibly seeped away, Izzy turned his hand palm upwards on the balustrade. Stede took up the invitation at once, and was grateful to feel Izzy lean in against him.
Together, they surveyed their garden, their land. The pineapple trees which stood row upon row rustled in the light evening breeze.
This was the earth that would sustain them and their family. The new vessel they were tending to together, travelling in whatever direction made them all happy.
Standing there in the sunset, Izzy breathing steadily beside him, waiting for their third to return home, Stede let himself feel the happiness he’d lucked into.
“I love the quiet moments like this. With you,” he murmured.
“The fuck you ruining it for then?” Izzy grumbled back. His hand told the truth, squeezing a little tighter.
Stede persisted. “When the baby comes. Let’s still find time for this.” Just them. It was different than when it was the three of them, or just Ed. Not better. But the peaceful companionship was something he craved as much as the chaos Ed brought to make life sparkle.
Izzy saw immediately. “What did Mary do, when Alma was born?”
Around a thickening in his throat, Stede said, “Disappeared into the nursery. Guess she had something she could really love.”
“What makes you think you’re getting rid of me that easily?” Izzy asked. “We’ve only just got that giant bed set up. I’m not leaving it. Speaking of.” His hand shifted, brushing up to Stede’s elbow. A silent request for help and once unfathomable intimacy. “If this shit is going to take as long as you keep telling me it will, I want a fucking nap.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
-
6 months before
“This was your plan. You knock.”
“I know it was my plan. But you’re the one with proper schooling. You should’ve intervened way before now to tell me it was a stupid plan.”
“Darling, it’s not a stupid plan.”
“Uhh, I’m standing here with a carved wooden model of what might be killing him Stede. Of course it’s a fucking stupid plan.”
“Yes, but you were very excited about it in the moment. And it’s got big blue eyes. I think it looks quite sweet. Makes a potentially life threatening situation much less scary.”
A beat. Izzy wondered if the idiots were going to bugger off.
But no such luck. A moment later, Stede was whispering again. “Oh my love. I didn’t mean it. It might not be life threatening.”
Izzy was going to teach them the meaning of life threatening if they didn’t either come in or go away. Fools. Pair of them.
Huffing, he levered himself out of bed and hopped the short distance to the door. He yanked it open, to find Stede rubbing the shoulder of a weepy-looking Ed. Which was exactly why Stede was a bad fucking influence.
“What?” Izzy barked.
“Oh Izzy!” Stede looked stricken. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Well I would be, but two absolute twats…”
“Fucking stupid plan,” Ed growled to himself.
Izzy spotted the wooden carving Ed was clenching as if he could throttle driftwood. “Is that a snake?”
Ed jumped about a foot, squeaking, “Where?” before realising he was gesturing to the thing in his hands. “Nah mate, it’s a worm.”
“Totally different,” Tweedledum interjected.
“Cos of- well, Stede heard you had one inside you. So. Non-scary worm. To make you feel better. Carved it meself.” Ed waved it between them. Izzy very deliberately did not touch it.
“You think I’m pregnant with a worm?”
It took a moment for them to register what he’d said. It took him a moment to realise he’d said it too.
Ed went white.
Stede flushed with delight.
About what Izzy had figured would happen.
“I’m not saying it again out here. Either come in or, if you’re opting for deadbeat Dad, fuck off now. I’ll raise it by myself if I have to.”
He’d thought about it enough, ever since Roach confirmed what he’d been dreading. Maybe Stede and Ed would visit him on some island somewhere, from time to time, then fuck off to sea together again. It would make sense. It wasn’t as if he was a proper part of… whatever they were. Easy to peel off when they wanted.
But he heard the both of them follow him back into the room. Izzy slid back onto the bed, because it was past dark already and he was growing a whole damn human child, he was tired. He wasn’t particularly surprised when Stede slid along to sit next to him, helping himself to the comfiest spot. Ed took up guard at the door, back against it. He was still clutching the worm.
Better to get this over with.
“Two and a half months ago, that’s what Roach reckons. Six months to go - and change. Given how regularly you’ve both been screwing me, I’ve no fucking clue which one of you’s the father. And I’m keeping it. I’ll kill you soon as look at you if you try to take it from me. I’m old enough it probably won’t last, but it’s stuck this long anyway. This is my only chance, and I’m not-”
“Izzy, Izzy.”
Of course it was Bonnet who interrupted him. He’d already abandoned two children, what were two more?
Readying to fight, Izzy sent a glare Stede’s way. But Stede just… looked wobbly at him. A bright pink gelatin man. “Izzy, that’s wonderful news. We were so worried for you. But this? This is brilliant. The best thing ever.”
Izzy deflated, and when Stede reached to cradle his cheek, Izzy didn’t even break away. He could have done. Stede looked hesitant as hell, as if expecting a rabid dog to bite if he moved too fast.
”It is?”
“Of course it is,” Stede promised, and Izzy felt something in him give as Stede smoothed a thumb across a cheekbone. Had he really been so desperate for someone else to… approve of this? Be… he wasn’t happy but at least feel something with him. Gently, Stede asked, “How are you feeling? Can we do anything to make you more comfortable? Name it and it’s yours.”
Oh how he wanted to believe in that. The very idea of someone to have his back while he went through this? To keep others’ eyes from him, to rebuff suspicion, to weave the lie with him. Not that he needed them but…. He wasn’t at his best when he was reminded minute by minute that his body wasn’t what it should be. When he felt so damn sick.
If Stede and Ed stood by him, maybe he wouldn’t have to spend years with nothing but a gormless child to speak to. Maybe someone else would actually step up and take up the slack for him, do their actual fucking jobs, while he felt like crap. Maybe he could get through this with his secrets in tact.
Maybe. Who was he fucking kidding? That had never been an option for Israel Hands. Fuck Stede Bonnet for letting him pretend, even for a heartbeat, that he could be the kind of man, in the kind of relationship where that was an option. Where someone would actually fucking help him. As if he were a partner and not their employee. But Izzy knew better. Could see Ed, unmoving and darkening into Blackbeard with every moment that passed. Izzy caught his eyes and - fuck, idiot - lightning flashed through the room.
Izzy’s hands flew to his abdomen. Stupid. Over and over, a fucking fool. Deserve to be killed. Reach for a knife, a gun, you twat. What kind of shield was his hand? Ed didn’t have a problem breaking through flesh and Izzy hurt every day because of it.
“You’re not changing my mind on this Edward,” Izzy said.
Stede’s head swivelled between them and then, miracle of miracles, he leaned to the right. Putting his bulk between Izzy and Ed.
“It’s fucking dangerous Iz,” Ed replied. There was almost no light in the room, and his eyes were black pools.
“You think I don’t fucking know that? You think that’s not all I’ve fucking thought about for fucking weeks?” Izzy demanded. “I’ll leave the life. Find some place else with this kid.”
Ed’s lip curled. Predator - white teeth flashed in the dark. “So you’d leave me? For some squalling brat? Fuck you.”
In a moment, he was gone - twisted out of the room. The worm clattered to the floor.
“Oh. Walter,” Stede said sadly.
“You named the worm Walter?” Izzy checked, because was it easier for his brain to latch onto the worm than what Ed had just said.
“It was better than Wilhelmina.” Before Izzy could ask why those were the only options, Stede had turned and the reverence he emanated was like a halo. “Oh Izzy. This is incredible news.”
“Ed doesn’t think so.” The adrenaline rush of seeing them there, and of being forced to confess because they clearly knew something was up was starting to fade, and Izzy would be damned if he let Stede see him fracture now. He tensed instead, fighting off the frightening, foreign urge to collapse into the comfort Stede would offer.
When did he get a turn in the fucking blanket fort, just to mope and wallow? Never, because there was always fucking work to do.
“I think so,” Stede’s insistence yanked Izzy back.
“You should go after him.”
“In a bit, of course I will. But maybe he needs some space right now. And you’ve been carrying this alone for - what did you say, weeks? You come first right now.”
That couldn’t be true. Izzy never came first. He was the add on, the afterthought, the appendix to their great love story.
One thing seared through the turmoil and the doubt churning in Izzy’s insides, and that was the long, slow kiss Stede planted on him then. He came from nowhere, suddenly touching Izzy everywhere on a body he’d been hiding away from them for weeks, but the way he touched wasn’t like being boarded and raided. It was the tender slip of perfectly carved and waxed wood through calm seas. It was the slight shift of the rudder that corrected their coarse through the wind and the waves and made the wood settle all about them in relief. It was the perfect unfurling of the top sail to billow in the window. Stede’s hands holding him lightly but sure, and his lips trying to coax and bestow, his tongue slow and passionate.
Such tenderness was a foreign flavour, the reverence an unlooked for bounty, and oh maybe being pregnant wasn’t so terrible if it made Stede kiss him like it was the only way to pour solace into Izzy’s veins, through his mouth to diffuse through his lungs, and into every millilitre of heart’s blood.
Izzy found himself loosing a soft whimper into the kiss, which sent Stede shuddering and trying to hold Izzy closer.
In his time, Izzy had been flirted with and fucked in ports across continents. He’d been kissed by men who knew more tricks than Satan. No one had made him feel as wholly wanted as Stede did then.
He could waste away here in Stede’s embrace and he wouldn’t even be miserable about it in hell.
When Stede finally gave them a break to absorb whatever the fuck was happening, he didn’t go far. His forehead parked up against Izzy’s and settled there, as he breathed, “You brilliant man you.”
“Nothing brilliant about opening my legs to you two fucks in the wrong phase of the moon, thinking I was past it.”
“I politely disagree.” A lock of hair fell towards Izzy’s face, messed up by Stede’s fondling, and the blond tenderly tucked it away. “You don’t have to bear this alone anymore. Will you share with me what’s been going on?”
Fuck it. What did he have to lose? Why shouldn’t he allow the warm embrace of Stede’s regard to engulf him? “I want to throw up all the fucking time. I breathe and I’m going to spew, stand and I’m going to spew, lie down and… you get it. Never been this bad. Not since I got my sea legs anyway.”
“And you’re still the sharpest sailor on this vessel.”
“What, like that’s hard?” Izzy shook his head and almost instantly regretted it. “You’re right. I’m the sharpest one here. And that should worry you. I’m - if I pretended to be fine, I’d be putting this ship in danger. I’m not and you’re going to have to sharpen up.”
“Israel-”
“Sometimes it starts and - it’s like it won’t ever stop. That’s what your first mate’s been reduced to. A sickly cripple clutching a blanket.”
“Oh, well that’s a line too far. I was going to promise to do whatever it takes to help after you, but now I know there’s vomit involved.” Stede rolled his eyes so hard Izzy was surprised he hadn’t strained them somehow. “I’m not that easy to scare off.”
But Izzy couldn’t help but warn, “You’ve no fucking clue what you’re signing up for.”
“I have two children!”
“And how many nannies? How many doctors? Midwives and accoucheurs and who knows what else. Taking the waters and… confinement and…” Izzy floundered. He didn’t even know what he was missing out on. “And not with…” Izzy gestured down at himself.
Firmly, Stede said, “With a man.” Fuck. Izzy had to squeeze his eyes closed against the sudden, pathetic desire to cry. He hadn’t known how much he needed that affirmation from Stede. That he needed to know this wasn’t going to change how at least one of his lovers saw him. “Is that… something that’s complicated for you?”
Izzy sent him a withering look.
“Ok. I understand - well, I can’t understand. But. Let me say this. You’re Israel Hands. You’re Blackbeard’s first mate, you’re - no. Sorry, no - this isn’t about who you are to anyone else. You’re fearsome. Your legend stands on its own -”
“Two feet?”
“Will you let me - I’m trying to say that this does not diminish you. Men respect you from sea to sea for your own actions. Your story will live on forever and this - this can change as much or as little as you’d like it to, but it doesn’t change your strength, your skill, or your brilliance.”
Maybe this was what made the crew line up to follow this soft, foolish man. He could make almost anyone believe in what he saw - the best, in everyone. But he didn’t understand this. “It changes everything.”
To Izzy’s relief, Stede didn’t argue. “Well, you’ve had more time to think of course. And on this, I will take your lead.” Stede sat back, and Izzy thought they might both be grateful for the little room to breathe. “The crew might even see this as motivation to step up. They’re quite good at doing if doing means helping others.”
“You don’t get it. They can’t know. And if you let it slip to a single one of them-” This time, he really did reach for the knife beneath his pillow.
“I won’t! Good God, surely you know I can keep my mouth shut on this.”
There was no way Stede could understand how vulnerable Izzy had already made himself, nor the terror that inspired. Yet because he was a self-sabotaging masochist, Izzy had to try one last time to drive Stede off. For Stede’s own good. “Ed’s not wrong you know.” At Stede’s confused him, Izzy clarified. “It’s dangerous. The next six months are dangerous, because if one person catches me like this I am fucked or they have to die. And at the end. It’s not how I ever intended to go. But the chance I die in childbed. It’s not low.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Stede declared with all the pomposity of a man who’d been able to purchase his whims for a very long time.
“Just the way it is Stede.”
The use of his first name caught the blond’s attention, and hazel eyes locked on Izzy’s own. Maple sincerity. “I’ll come up with a plan. I haven’t got it yet. But we’ve got time. Between the three of us, we’ll figure something out. We’ll iron out every worry that we can and… mitigate the rest as best we can.”
It struck Izzy then just how much his affection had grown for this stubborn, ridiculous figure of a man. It made no sense, but it filled him, made him breathless.
It must have shown, because Stede, worriedly, asked, “Are you going to be sick right now?”
Being infatuated with Stede would have been cause for concern once, but now Izzy just offered a small smile and shook his head.
“Oh good. Because I’m not that good with vomit really. And this shirt is French lace.”
Izzy’s heart swelled further, idiot thing that it was. Nevertheless, he had to persist. “You’re going to need two plans. Because if I do croak. Ed’ll be in a state. Particularly if this is his spawn. He’ll blame himself. So you better know how you’re going to look after my child. Mary might have let you off the hook, but if you abandon a child of mine, I will fucking haunt you.”
For once, Stede didn’t argue. “I understand.” His gaze had been tugged away however, distracted by a careless gesture Izzy had made towards his stomach. “Can I..? With Mary, I never…”
“Sure. Big conversation about my impending demise but you want to feel me up. Sure. Why the fuck not?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Stede reached straight for the button of Izzy’s breeches. A huff of relief escaped Izzy the instant his stomach was freed from its confines.
Stede sent a wicked look his way. “Already too tight, huh?”
Izzy growled at him, but he might as well have been a toothless kitten for all it dissuaded Stede from his glee. A moment later, it didn’t matter much anyway, because Stede’s palm was stroking across his stomach and Izzy found himself closing his eyes, buffeted into a wash of contentment. No one had ever touched him like this - twice Stede had surprised him, and fuck was it nice to know that Stede was always going to surprise him in the best way when every other surprise was grim and unwelcome.
“Hi in there,” Stede whispered. “I’m Stede. It’s very nice to make your acquaintance. We’re going to figure all this out for you, little one.”
-
Present day
This little one certainly weighed a whole lot, Stede thought resentfully as he heaved Izzy up out of his seat.
The next contraction struck when they were halfway across the bedroom. Uncertainty had Stede pausing, but Izzy growled, “Don’t stop,” and they made halting painful stride after halting painful stride until Izzy tipped himself into the mattress. His fists twisted crushmarks into the sheets even as he worked through the pain. Stede watched helplessly as Izzy’s large shoulder muscles flexed and fell with each deliberate breath, until finally the pain released him and he could crawl his way to the top of the bed, unravelling his robe as he went.
“C’mere and make yourself fucking useful,” Izzy demanded.
Stede would. Of course he would. Izzy asked either of them to jump and the only question would be how high. But Stede gave himself one moment to savour the scene. Izzy had taken to wearing stays around month six (Stede still had a it of a scar from the knife which had been hurled his way the first time he brought the first set home from the market) after realising they were both useful for his ever-aching back and for binding back his growing chest at least some way. He wore the second set now; a custom-ordered black silk number over a voluminous black linen shirt.
This was the last time Stede would see Izzy like this. How many other last times had he missed without ever knowing what they were?
“You’ll be pleased to get your body back,” Stede said aloud, as much to remind himself as anything else. Izzy might look breathtaking, but he was going to be happier once this ordeal was over.
“I really will,” Izzy confirmed. “Come on. Before I get pissed, try to do it myself and you lose your last chance.”
“You wouldn’t!” Nevertheless, Stede crossed to seat himself on the bed. He reached for the bottom-most ribbon and began to undo the knot that kept most of the construction together.
“Don’t ever doubt my word,” murmured Izzy, with so little heat it might have been sub-zero. When Stede looked up, he found Izzy’s eyes had fluttered closed. Enjoying being taken care of in a way he never would have before. So many gifts this pregnancy had brought him.
Gleefully, Stede smoothed his palms over two of them, taking his time to cup Izzy’s chest and winning himself a soft sound of approval as he did so. The swooping neckline of the stays was a delicate ribboned lace which was a delight beneath Stede’s thumbs as he ran them in matching arches. “How we doing here my love?”
“Heavy. Sore,” Izzy breathed.
To reward him for answering, Stede pressed a kiss to his breastbone, regretful that it was cotton which met his lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised, giving each side only a light fondle before returning his touch to the base of Izzy’s belly.
The ties were perfect beneath Stede’s fingertips, the silk sumptuous and he wondered at how heavenly Izzy must have felt being held taught by the boning and yet with the delicious slide of the fabric a constant reminder of his lovers’ touch. And how perfect that release and relief as Izzy sipped in deeper breaths with every bit of freedom from the fabric that Stede granted him.
His belly seemed to spill all the larger as it was unleashed from its bonds. It was already so big.
When Stede ran the tension out of the higher ties over Izzy’s chest, the man heaved a huge breath - his fullest that day. “Better?”
“So much.”
Unable to help himself, Stede bowed to press a kiss over the cross on Izzy’s cheek. “Shirt on or off?”
“On,” said Izzy, accepting the help Stede offered then to ease the pieces of the corset over his head. “But you take yours off. Skin me.”
Which was how Stede found himself in nothing but his underwear with his pregnant lover using him as his own personal body pillow. “Maybe this was a mistake?”
With clear reluctance - he was attempting to work out which segment of Stede’s chest was the most comfortable - Izzy mumbled, “What was?”
“You got pretty spoiled with this pregnancy. Rods for our own backs.”
“Fuck off,” Izzy muttered, definitely not rubbing his beard against Stede like a cat marking up its owner. “Ow, I mean - fuck, I’m fine.”
To Stede’s astonishment, he’d felt the contraction coming on before Izzy made a single sound. The stomach against his tightened, hardened, pulling up. “Dear God,” he breathed. He brought a hand up to the spasming stomach, and cautiously rubbed it. When Izzy didn’t protest, he did so with less caution, warming the furred skin.
Ever since Izzy first permitted this, Stede had been covetous of it. He loved his getting his hands on Izzy’s stomach, feeling out their baby’s home. But it had never been like this: hard as a rock and dragging down with the power of the muscles’ squeeze.
“What does it feel like?”
He should have predicted it. It was so ridiculously easy to predict. But Stede still yelped when Izzy’s hand unerringly slid up his thigh, found his balls through the only scrap of coton he was still wearing, and squeezed.
“Ow ow ow ow,” Stede chanted at the unforgiving grip on his most sensitive parts. “Ow, ow. I get it. I’m sorry. I’ll never impregnate you again Israel -”
“Another thirty seconds or so of this,” Izzy said, sounding more casual than he had managed in the midst of a contraction in the last two hours. “On and off. For the next twelve to sixty hours.”
Izzy was using his nails, Stede was sure. His entire body wanted to twist away from the source of his torment, but Izzy held him fast and it would only hurt worse if he did.
After far longer than thirty seconds, Stede was certain, Izzy let go. He angled a self-satisfied smirk Stede’s way. “That answer your question?”
“Yes, thank you darling. I feel very informed,” Stede hissed.
“Good. Now shut the fuck up and let me sleep on you.” Though Izzy’s words were stern, his body was soft and warm against Stede’s. His legs were deliberately tangled with Stede’s, and his hand moved up (Stede flinched. It made Izzy laugh) to replace Stede’s on his belly. “Was nice,” he muttered, and Stede knew that Izzy would fall asleep to the rhythm of Stede’s breath and his touch, where once he could hardly stand the weight of company.
They’d come so far in six months. Stede could hardly imagine how much further they had to go.