Chapter Text
Frenchie was starting to think something was off about Izzy.
Well, something was obviously off about Izzy. The man was constantly angry and shouting. If someone got close, there was always a fifty-fifty chance whether he’d hit them upside the head or shove them to the deck. He was way too high strung. So fucking serious. Like all the time. Not once had a joke made him laugh. The few times Frenchie had caught a genuine smile from the man was always when Blackbeard was doing something clever. Only usually after doing the clever thing, Blackbeard’s affections turned towards Stede. Gone was the joy and back came the anger and frustration tenfold.
So yeah, something was off about Izzy, but now Frenchie was beginning to suspect something was off about Izzy.
Frenchie had first noticed it when the first-mate had gotten in his face. He’d been upset that Frenchie had fucked up repairing the railing and had instead nailed half his scarf to the wood. Frenchie had responded with, “Well clearly you haven’t been paying attention because this is a rather common occurrence with me. You should have told someone else to do it.” That had just riled Izzy up more. The man had started shouting again. He'd been standing so fucking close and—
Frenchie’s eyes had started to water. His nose had itched. What the fuck? But that only happened with witches.
Izzy had eventually stalked off to go yell at Lucius, but Frenchie’s eyes had still been a little irritated. He’d kept a closer eye on Izzy after that. Took note of how often his eyes would water when Izzy would get close. It wasn’t all the time, but it was definitely often enough that it wasn’t a coincidence. And then Frenchie started paying attention to Izzy’s clothes.
The man wore all black. Never any splash of color unlike Blackbeard, or Fang and Ivan who at least changed it up a little or mixed in white with their clothes. Because of that, the hairs on Izzy’s shirt or that occasionally got stuck to his gloved hand were easy to spot. Yet even then, Frenchie couldn’t believe his eyes. Not until they’d docked at a port.
They were unloading some cargo. Blackbeard was teaching Stede what pirates typically did when the captain wasn’t able to flat out pay the crew like Stede could. Everyone was moving something, even Lucius though he wouldn’t stop bitching about it to anyone who came near. Frenchie had just set a box down when he looked up and froze.
Across the way stood Izzy. He was leaning against a wall and talking to a man. Probably business. The man was so fucking focused on work. But right at his feet? A brown tabby rubbed up against his shoe. Frenchie wasn’t close enough that his throat was starting to swell or anything. Yet the panic that was setting in was doing a pretty good job of mimicking the telltale sign of a witch stealing his breath. Frenchie almost called out. He didn’t fucking like the guy, but what would Blackbeard do if he found out his first-mate got stolen by a witch and Frenchie hadn’t done anything? The guy was pretty sweet around Stede, but Frenchie had still seen that fire and rage pop up. It was fine when it was directed at an enemy ship or rich fucks, but Frenchie really didn’t want that anger directed his way.
Frenchie frantically checked his pockets, but there was nothing he had on him that would work against the cat. Shit! He looked back up. After several more painfully slow seconds, he finally gained the courage to shout out. Frenchie opened his mouth and—
The man Izzy had been talking to walked off, their business apparently concluded. As he left, Izzy finally took note of the cat. He bent down and-and he fucking petted it!? Did he realize how dangerous that thing could be!? Only, the cat wasn’t immediately hissing or clawing at Izzy. It was still rubbing against him. Leaning into his hand.
Was Izzy...
No.
No, that was impossible! Izzy was a man. Only women were witches. Except...well. He’d never met someone who wasn’t really a man or woman. Not until recently. Jim was just Jim. Clearly, Frenchie didn’t know everything. He’d only heard of women witches, but he’d never heard that a man couldn’t be a witch. Of course, if Izzy was a witch, then that meant Buttons could be a witch—
Buttons wasn’t a fan of cats either though, and he had a seagull as a friend. No matter what dark magic he might mess with, he wasn’t a straight up witch. Izzy though? He was still petting the fucking cat! No fear! No watery eyes or red nose and—holy shit. He was smiling?!?!?!
Rather than fearing Blackbeard’s wrath at letting his first-mate get taken by a witch, Frenchie found himself fearing Blackbeard for an altogether different reason.
Because Frenchie realized what he had to do. It didn’t matter if no one believed him when he went off about the dangers of the supernatural. He had to protect the crew. They were a mismatched bunch, but at the very least Frenchie could say Oluwande had become a dear friend and Swede really did have a lovely singing voice. If he didn’t at least mildly like them, he would have just told Wee John and they could have run off here and now. But no, this was bigger than Frenchie and Wee John. No matter how dangerous this would be, no matter what Blackbeard would later do to Frenchie, he had to do this for the betterment of the crew.
Frenchie was going to have to kill Izzy.
Izzy had heard the cat first. Despite ignoring it, the small feline had stuck around as Izzy finished conducting business. Once the man was gone, Izzy finally looked down. The brown tabby rubbed up against him. He bent down and started to slowly stroke its fur from head to tail. With no one around, a smile flitted across Izzy’s face.
He’d of course supported Edward’s no pet policy. However, Izzy would argue a ship’s cat wasn’t a pet but a natural tool to fight against vermin. Edward hadn’t agreed so they’d never actually gotten one, but Izzy still liked the creatures. They were self-sufficient, intelligent. You didn’t have to clean them. They never took up much room and you didn’t have to make a bed or anything for them. They always seemed to know where to hide during a fight too. Except for one large tom that Izzy had sailed with in his younger years. That old bastard had been more likely to take someone’s eye out than most of the people Izzy had known back then. They didn’t need much food or water, so just having one didn’t put a dent in finances either.
All around, they weren’t a bad animal to have. Izzy watched as the one he’d been petting turned away. It scurried off, either spooked from a loud noise or perhaps having seen prey to go after.
Now that Izzy thought about it, if Edward wasn’t going to kill off his own fucking pet, then they sure as shit could have a ship’s cat to take care of any rats or mice. He’d have to remember that if he came across another cat. Izzy straightened up and—
He found the bard standing across the way staring at him with such an intense look, Izzy didn’t actually recognize the man as Frenchie. He still found it hard to believe the clumsy, usually grinning, musician could look at anything with such focused concentration. It was...unnerving. Izzy knew Stede’s crew and they were all pretty much fucking useless except for Jim and maybe occasionally Wee John if something heavy needed moving. Except he cried too much at little things and was a friend of the bard which automatically took off any positives the man had going for himself like his size and knowledge with hand-to-hand.
Izzy had thought he’d already put Frenchie in his useless little box as well. He wasn’t a fighter. Couldn’t fucking tie rope or nail a piece of wood without fucking it up. And he was always so goddamn cheery and too quick with his tongue. Izzy felt like he never had anything clever to say back and usually fell on ‘fuck off’ before stomping away.
Yet at this moment, he found he couldn’t take his eyes off Frenchie. The man squared his shoulders, seemed to take a deep breath, and walked forward. If he was trying to be intimidating, he failed immediately as he tripped over a piece of cobblestone, fell into a passerby, and a string of apologies fell from his lips. A huff that was almost a laugh left Izzy’s throat. The man was still just a bumbling fool who thought that just singing a pretty tune and saying some charming words was enough as a pirate. The man couldn’t even handle a damn sword!
After apologizing though, Frenchie quickly brushed his shirt down and finished his walk towards Izzy. Still unimpressed and fully expecting the bard to waste his time, Izzy simply raised an eyebrow.
“I know.”
The words caught Izzy off guard. Know? Know what?
A sense of strength seemed to enter Frenchie. The man so often hunched, yet now he used his height to lean over Izzy. He wasn’t intimidating in a particularly scary way. Izzy could have easily taken him to the ground here and now. Maimed him. Killed him, if necessary. He had a clear advantage in skill, but he found he could only stare as Frenchie kept talking. The younger man’s voice didn’t waver and his gaze didn’t leave Izzy’s eyes. Izzy could feel his throat going dry.
“I know,” Frenchie repeated. “You think because the rest of the crew isn’t interested like that, they haven’t noticed what you’re hiding, but I have. I’ve got my eye on you, and I’m not taking it off now.”
With that, Frenchie seemed satisfied with himself. He smiled, gave a hard nod, and marched off down the street. Izzy was so damn confused that he just stared after him. What the fuck was he talking about? The plan to kill Stede? Everyone knew about the plan to kill Stede! It had all gone down in front of the entire crew on the fucking deck when Ed refused to end the welp! Was Frenchie just mental or...
No. He couldn’t... He wasn’t talking about the reason why Izzy wanted Stede dead. Was he? Again, everyone knew Izzy hated Stede for a number of reasons, but they didn’t know the main one. The one that sat in Izzy’s chest and rested in his broken heart and made every fucking day on the Revenge absolutely miserable. Frenchie couldn’t possibly know. But then, what else could he have been talking about?
And if he was talking about that, then what the hell did he mean when he said the crew wasn’t interested like that so they hadn’t noticed, but Frenchie had? Did that mean...
For the first time in a long time, Izzy found himself flustered. Not an angry fluster like what Stede caused but just...unbalanced.
Izzy continued to watch as Frenchie disappeared into the crowded streets. He shook himself and wiped the dumbstruck look off his face. This was probably all some stupid bet created by Lucius or Frenchie had his own, manipulative reasons for coming up to him. Whatever. Izzy wasn’t going to let it bother him. He had work to finish anyways before they left the port. Izzy turned in the opposite direction and disappeared into the crowd too.