"I--" Stede's voice flutters and stops, caught and held by the anchor of his tongue. Izzy's eyes are all he sees. He feels them like fingers tracing across his skin, electric hot, buzzing. "I don't want to hurt you"

His voice sounds weak, one last protest as he feels his resolve slipping. Izzy's shoulders slump, despair replacing pleading in his striking green eyes. Stede's resolve doesn't so much crumble as blow away, dissolving in a faint warm breeze

He stretches out alongside Izzy. Izzy's eyes widen--he looks surprised, then confused, then, well, a bit annoyed. Stede turns him with careful hands, pulling him in to rest against Stede's broad chest. He runs his hands through Izzy's hair, looking down at him, almost reverent. Izzy glances away, almost shy. Stede's hands move down over Izzy's neck, stroking and petting. Izzy pushes into his hands like a friendly cat, seeking more

"Fuck's sake, Bonnet"

And so, after a deep, steadying breath, he wraps his arms around Izzy and rolls them.

Izzy gasps, startled. Stede, his muscular forearms braced on either side of Izzy's head, smiles down at him. It's the sort of smug look that Izzy would love to wipe off his face. Izzy takes Stede's face between his hands and pulls him into a kiss. There, Izzy thinks, that'll show the bastard. Stede kisses him back, warm and soft, smelling of lavender and mint

He arches up into Stede's touch. His cunt pulses, hot between his legs.

"Fuck, Stede," he gasps, breaking off in a whine as Stede unbuttons his vest, his shirt, kissing every piece of skin as he exposes it.

Stede tosses both to the floor in a heap. He kisses his way across the firm flesh of Izzy's chest, running a hand teasingly through the soft grey and black hair that curls there. A glint of silver catches his eye as he bends toward Izzy's nipple.

A delicate silver barbell pierces it, much like the fine gold hoops he's grown used to on Ed. He wonders if they have the same effect on Izzy. He swirls his tongue over the nipple, catching the barbell and twisting it gently. Izzy clutches at the back of his head, moaning, hips pressing up to grind against Stede's thigh. He hisses, pained, and Stede pulls away.

"Oh, bugger, Izzy, I'm sorry," he says, eyes wide. Izzy catches his hands, holding onto him.

"It's fine, Bonnet, don't be so fucking wet," Izzy snarls, well aware of the irony given the slick mess Bonnet's made of his cunt. Stede looks at him with such stupid, useless concern. Against his better judgment, Izzy's expression softens. "Stede, I'm hurt, but it's fine, alright? Just fuck my ass instead."

Stede, bizarrely, looks scandalized--given what Izzy knows about Ed's preferences, it's certainly not the first time Stede's heard those words.

Stede's expression shifts. For an instant, he looks almost sad, but that makes even less sense than him still being shocked at the idea of fucking a man in the ass. Izzy feels nervous all of a sudden, exposed and uncertain of what exactly Stede sees.

And then Stede smiles again.

"I have something else in mind," he says, the cheeky fucker. "If you'll indulge me."

He kisses his way across Izzy's belly, only just beginning to regain its soft curve.

"You made me feel very good indeed earlier," Stede says, pleased when his voice doesn't shake. "I'd like to return the favour."

He presses a kiss to the softest skin of Izzy's thigh, the joint where it meets his cunt and Izzy gasps, hands reaching down to tangle in Stede's hair. His cunt looks swollen still, bruising half-healed, but when Stede presses a gentle kiss to it, Izzy's hands tighten reflexively, pulling him in closer. Stede does it again.

He moans as he tastes himself on Stede's lips, an aftershock running through his body, hips bucking into the air again and...

"Hey! Open up, hijo de puta, we know you're in there! You've got ten seconds before I kick this fucking door down and use it to fucking beat you to death!"

"Oh," Stede says, eyes widening, "shit."

Jim pounds on the door again, rattling it in its frame. The chair braced under the knob shakes but doesn't fall.

"Abre esta maldita puerta!" Jim shouts. There's a thump lower down as though they've kicked the door, and the sound of them cursing more quietly at their aching foot.

"Uh. Just a moment!" Stede calls. "Everything, uh, everything's fine! No need to overreact!"

"You listen to me, cabrón," Jim shouts.

"I'm gonna react however the fuck I want and if you don't open this fucking door the only thing that's gonna be over is your miserable fucking life!"

The door rattles again. Stede jumps to his feet, looks around the room desperately. Izzy's clothes are rumpled on the floor and, as the chair under the doorknob shakes again, the odds of him being convincingly dressed by the time Jim breaks the door down seem... Not good. Stede squeezes his hands together

Well. He'll just have to protect Izzy's modesty some other way. The door shakes in its frame again and, for a relatively small person, Stede reflects, Jim really is terrifyingly strong. He turns back to Izzy.

Izzy has pushed himself back into the corner. He stares at the door like a trapped fox looks at an approaching hound.

"Izzy?" Stede says quietly. He sits back down on the bed. Izzy glances at him, then looks back to the door, breathing hard.

"Izzy, darling, I'm going to wrap the comforter around you, alright?" Stede says. He pulls the crumpled comforter off the bed. Izzy startles a bit when Stede wraps it around him like a cloak, but then leans into it, clutching it around him. Stede holds him for a moment, stroking his shoulders, his hair.

"Ten seconds, cabrón," Jim shouts. "Ten! Nine! Eight--"

"Shut up, Jim!"

Stede's voice is sharp, piercing even--the sound of it startles him.

Jim's voice cuts off, shocked into silence.

"Give me a bloody moment!" Stede yells. He fiddles with the blanket around Izzy's shoulders, covering him all the way from his neck to his feet. He kisses Izzy's face, his hands. Izzy stares at him, baffled. The silence is tense. Finally, after one last kiss to Izzy's forehead, Stede stands, straightens his shirt and strides over to the door. He pulls the chair out from beneath the knob and opens it.

He hears shouting, pounding on the door, his heart hammering in his ears so fucking loud he can't even hear who's yelling, or what about.

Hornigold wants him back.

That thought repeats in his head, over and over, drowning everything else out. He wants to get up and fight at least, but his limbs have turned to lead and god shitting damn it, he fought just fine earlier. He shivers, naked under the comforter. He hates how vulnerable it makes him feel.

He watches, wide eyed, as Stede opens the door--it opens inward, obscuring Izzy's view of what lies beyond. All he sees is the glint of steel as someone points a knife at Stede's throat.

*

"Ah." Stede stares cross-eyed at Jim's blade. "Right. That's. Well, I can't say I blame you under the circumstances but I... I rather wonder if we might, um, talk about this?"

His voice rises to a squeak as Jim's blade presses in just firmly enough to pierce flesh.

A tiny pearl of blood rolls down from the tiny wound to the collar of Stede's shirt. Well, he reflects, it was rather badly in need of cleaning anyway. Jim's eyes narrow, focused. They step forward and Stede steps back, hands raised.

"Where is he?" Their voice is a nearly unrecognizable growl. He opens his mouth to reply.

"Wait!" Izzy stands by the side of the bed, swaying on his feet. "Don't hurt him, please. I'll go with you. I won't fight, I swear"

Jim's hand falters for just a second--Stede, with a lack of self preservation remarkable even for him, shoves their knife away, feeling it scrape across his throat as he snaps, "Oh, stop it!"

He grabs them by the arm and in one fluid--or, well, mostly fluid, he has to admit as he stumbles a bit, nearly tripping over his own feet--pulls them into the room and slams the door behind them. A litany of angry Spanish pours out of them as he locks it.

Their eyes light on Izzy, shaking, wrapped only in a comforter, standing next to the bed.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" they demand, turning back to Stede. He pays them no mind. As Izzy's eyes finally focus on the assassin's familiar face, his knees buckle. Stede crosses the room in two strides, catching Izzy in his arms and lowering him gently back to the bed. Izzy clings to him, shivering uncontrollably.

"Shit," Jim mutters, tucking their knife away

Stede holds Izzy against his chest, pulling the comforter around him snugly. Izzy wraps his hands in the front of Stede's shirt.

"You're hurt," he says, taking in the little line of blood that crosses Stede's throat diagonally from his jugular down towards his collarbone

"It's nothing, darling, don't worry," Stede says, smiling with more confidence than he feels--the fact Jim isn't actively murdering him is encouraging, but likely a temporary reprieve

Ed lies on his back, staring up at the patterned ceiling, tracing the delicate lines of gold filigree in the wallpaper and who the fuck uses gold for their fucking ceiling anyway? That's overkill...

He runs a hand over his face. He feels fucking disgusting. How many days has he been wearing this fucking robe, anyway? How many days since he left this room? How many days since... he squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat.

He doesn't even know how long Izzy's been back. Hasn't seen him. Hasn't even asked Stede about him. What kind of captain does that make him? What kind of friend? What kind of man? Thoughts come fast and furious, too many all at once and Ed feels himself crushed under the weight of them, pinned to this fucking bed.

There's a commotion on deck, the sound of feet pounding overhead, then down the corridor. Someone pounds on the door of the captains' cabin

"Captain?"

The door creaks open. Ed still doesn't move, a strange panic clawing its way up his throat

"Izzy?" It's Olu--he sounds worried. Ed watches him out the corner of his eye. Olu's shoulders sag when he takes in the room, empty save for the lump on the bed that used to be fucking Blackbeard. Oof. Now that fucking stings. For the first time in days, Ed feels something stirring in his chest. Olu sighs, turning to withdraw

"Wait." Ed almost coughs

Fucking hell, he hasn't even been speaking these past few days, has he? Stede's talked at him, though he sure as hell couldn't say about what. But he doesn't think he's said a single word back.

Olu stops, not moving, faintly terrified. Ed doesn't know whether he's relieved he can still inspire something other than pity, or horrified that even his own crew's still fucking scared of him. He pushes himself to sit up, slowly, muscles sore with disuse.

"You're looking for Stede?" he asks, voice still rough in his throat. "He went into town."

That much he's almost certain of. He remembers Stede asking him to come, begging him almost. The desperation in Stede's voice stabbed through him, catching and twisting until he felt sick with it. Still not enough to make him move, though.

"Yeah, I know," Olu says, hesitant. "But we lost him. There was... well, there was a fight. At Jackie's."

Ed frowns.

There's always a fight at Jackie's. Olu should know that.

"Hornigold put a bounty on Izzy--wants him alive. Stede got him out of the bar, but we haven't seen either of them since. Jim's looking in town. I came back here in case they made it to the ship."

Ed doesn't know what his face shows, but Olu blanches

"They're not here, though, right?" Olu says, backing out the door. "So I'll just... I'll. Right."

The door slams behind him. Ed barely hears it.

He hasn't even seen Izzy since he's been back. And Stede...

Fear curls around Ed's spine, icy cold. A shudder runs through him. His feet hit the floor before he realizes he's getting up. He stands, shaky, letting the robe fall from his shoulders to puddle on the floor by the bed. He needs a bath. He needs a bath, and then he needs his clothes. And a dinghy. He pushes greasy hair out of his face, taking a deep breath.

He knows what he needs to do.

They watch closely--when they see Stede really is just lying with Izzy, holding him, adjusting the comforter to protect his modesty, they relax a little, leaning back in the little wooden chair.

Outside, darkness falls, brick across from them hidden in deep shadows. Shouting and laughter drift up from the street. Finally, Izzy's breath slows, turning to the steady, even rhythm of sleep. Stede and Jim exchange a nod. It's going to be a long night.