Icon from a picrew by grgikau. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. The X-Files. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
To add I love that the first thing Ed says to Steve is a recognition of him as a pirate. Both give each other a much needed validation. For Stede it’s recognition as the gentleman pirate, and for Ed it’s that he doesn’t have to be the Blackbeard mask he can just be Ed. For both there is a freedom in these (new) identities.
For the snippet prompts: something with leather care/bootblacking? Could involve Blackbeard or Izzy from OFMD, but original characters would be super cool too
Ed had brushed it off as not much of a big deal, just a thing that Izzy did for him from time to time, and Stede hadn’t precisely known what that had meant at the time. He’d thought it funny, but interesting, that Ed should bring it up, hadn’t been able to envision it as something he ought be jealous of.
Perhaps that was why he asked to watch.
Not that he doesn’t trust Ed – of course he does – and while he doesn’t trust Izzy, it isn’t as though he thinks Izzy would do something untoward to Ed, either. He’d simply been curious, and now, that curiosity is being rewarded.
Stede sits back on the other side of the couch, his book in his lap ostensibly to hold his concentration, but he isn’t so much as glancing at the page, chin resting on his hand as he stares down at Izzy at work.
Ed is sitting back with his arms over the back of the couch, and he’s staring down at his first mate with a smoky look in his eyes, but Izzy isn’t looking back – Izzy is concentrating on the work, his jaw set, a sort of solemn look on his face and his brows furrowed. The silence in the room is thick, the air pregnant with it, and Stede has to keep reminding himself to breathe – the only sound is the whisper and gentle scrape of Izzy’s brush on Ed’s boots.
“I thought he’d look a bit happier about it,” says Stede to Ed. It’s not idle, exactly, but it’s not as catty as he’s capable of being, as catty as he often finds himself being where Israel Hands is concerned even before he’s thought about it, more just conversational, and Ed looks over at him.
That scary, grim look he’d been wearing to look down at Izzy fades slightly, the eyebrows going up and the lips going down, and then he constructs a different mask, sort of sly.
“You think I should make him happier?” he asks. There’s a rumble in his voice that Stede really doesn’t hear very often, not directed at him, and Stede’s mouth is dry.
He glances at Izzy, who’s leaning further forward, rubbing the brush in circles over Ed’s boot, still. The stuff smells, and Stede really doesn’t care for it, but he likes Izzy like this, Izzy quiet and concentrated and really almost-tame, even if there’s a darkening flush showing in his cheeks, underneath that kiss tattooed on his cheek.
(Not a kiss. Ed’s signature. When Edward had thrown that out, so casually, it had only been a few weeks after their reconciliation – Izzy had stiffened up like a corpse, and Stede had broken the sherry glass in his hand, had snapped the bowl and the stem as his fist tightened all of a sudden.
They’d never fucked, he and Ed. Edward had told him so. But Izzy had known precisely what Stede would think of it, even though Ed hadn’t given it a thought.)
“Just that I thought he would be, that’s all,” murmurs Stede. “Isn’t this an indulgence? Letting him black your boots like this.”
“Would you rather do it?” asks Izzy.
Ed moves so fast Stede just sees him as a blur of black, hand whipping out, but he hears the sound of it, the sharp crack of Ed’s palm across Izzy’s cheek and the way it rings in the room, his head snapping to the side.
He’s breathing heavily, and the new redness blooms from the smack rather than the blush Stede knows Izzy would never admit to.
“Are we fucking talking to you?” asks Ed.
Izzy sets his jaw.
“Still think I should make him happy?”
“You’re indulging him,” Stede says resolutely, feeling a sort of warm anticipation gathering within him, one that’s rather unlike the anticipation that goes with him into the bedroom with Ed, but isn’t entirely different. “Why not indulge him all the way?”
Izzy stares at Stede, his eyes wide and his lips twisted, and Stede gives him a warm, honeyed smile that he knows (Ed’s told him, often whilst on his knees or scrambling to get into Stede’s breeches) doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Go on,” says Stede when Ed looks at him too, and Izzy hisses as Ed extends his leg, pressing the heel of his boot against Izzy’s crotch, and Izzy’s hands tremble, his eyes fluttering closed, his lips open. “Did the captain tell you to stop working, Mr Hands?”
“Fucking… Hell,” mutters Izzy, but he opens his eyes, breathing heavily, and puts his trembling hand back to finishing up, brushing in smooth little circles.
“Is this alright?” asks Stede in a sudden whisper.
“Shut up, Bonnet,” Izzy retorts.
Stede takes that as a yes, and gives Ed the nod to press harder on his crotch, until Izzy groans.
Modern AU Stede isn’t a tailor or a flower shop owner btw. He’s a divorced dad in his late 40’s who just figured out he’s queer and wants to ‘engage with his community’ and ‘do something fun for once’ so he opens a queer bar. Unfortunately he has no fucking idea HOW to run a queer bar, like at all. It’s the most ridiculous bar you’ve ever been in. He stocks more tea than alcohol. There is a wall of bookshelves next to a place that’s often used as a make shift dance floor. On Tuesdays and Sundays they open early and serve ‘brunch’ while Stede does dramatic readings of fairytales. ‘Perhaps you’d be more comfortable making it a cafe’ 'no its a BAR I want it to be a bar’ stede insists. Its called 'The Revenge’. Because what is a modern au of if not a bizzare place for queers to hang out?
Yes, and it dovetails nicely with Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill and Other Delicacies and Delights (and Fishing Equipment).
Blackbeard’s heard a lot about this new bar that’s popped up on the scene, but everyone says that you can’t EXPLAIN “The Revenge” you have to EXPERIENCE it, so Blackbeard finally wanders in one afternoon during high tea, and there are lacy doilies everywhere, and tiered cake stands with miniature cakes, and Ed’s all round-eyed wonder, because, “Look at this! It’s like food, but smaller. It’s like a teeny-tiny version of food.”
Izzy is just disgusted. He takes one look and growls at Stede, “This isn’t a bar. It’s a fucking tearoom. And you? Are a fucking tea lady.”
And Stede is holding a teapot in one hand, and a lovely knitted tea cozy in his other, which he squeezes so tightly that the pompom pops off, because HOW VERY DARE YOU. Then he storms away because he has “a BAR to run, and there are BAR snacks in the BAR oven”.
Izzy turns to Blackbeard, expecting solidarity, but Ed has picked up the pompom and is rolling it between his fingers and he’s just like, “Yeah. Nah. I like it,” then sort of trails off after Stede to offer advice and encouragement.
And Izzy watches him go with a flat “what”.
Then he hears Ed offer BBGODD(FE)’s staff to help with evening shifts and, Ed’s out of sight, but Izzy can still hear as he says “You know what you should do? Cocktails.”
There’s a fraction of a pause and Izzy knows what’s coming, but he’s still horrified when Ed offers, almost, but very much not, completely casually, “Izzy knows cocktails, he’ll train your crew.”
And Izzy’s just like “…….oh my god…….” because he knows this means Ed’s not going to just wander away again.
(When Izzy turns up to teach the bar staff of The Revenge “the fucking art of fucking mixology you fucking fuckers” Stede hands him an apron and it’s pink, it has frills and ribbon, and Izzy just stares at it, because: how ?? is this ?? his life ??)
