Archive of Our Own

"I was thinking," Stede said, his dagger dimpling the other man's skin, "we might compromise."

There was a pause in which Stede worried there might be more than these three men out here to steal his hostages and Stede'd already exhausted his reserves. But the man just said, "I'm listening."

And it was quite a turn up for Stede Bonnet, wasn't it, that he'd already won this fight, that three men in black leather, one of them clearly a superior swordsman, had been rendered helpless by his plan. By his cunning! By his determination! Stede felt, in that moment, rather more than adequate.

"I'm willing to give up one of the hostages, to prevent further bloodshed. But--" Stede said, tracing his dagger across the man's cheekbone, "--you'll be coming with us."

"I'll what?"

"As my guest," Stede explained. "And my teacher. I'd quite like for you to teach me that marvelous flourish with the blade that you did at the beginning of our encounter."

The man's jaw twitched. "Are you serious?"

Stede'd read enough pirate stories to know better than to say, It was so terribly cool--in more ways than one, as it had increased airflow to his exposed skin, and in this climate, the breeze was much needed. Stede was feeling flushed and warm all over. "Despite my quick footwork just now, I am a bit rusty. I could use a sparring partner, and you've proven yourself to be a good match."

"What?" Oluwande said. "Captain, no--"

"This is definitely not Blackbeard would do," Black Pete said, and for some reason that made the man's jaw twitch again.

"Do you promise to let my men leave unharmed," he said, grudgingly, "and to free me once I've taught you the maneuver?"

"Of course," said Stede. "I give you my word." And then, because it was the sort of thing that always happened in pirate stories, he darted forward, dagger still at the ready, and gave the man a kiss on the lips. It was more of a peck, really, out of long years of cohabitation with Mary, but it seemed to shock the other man out of his antipathy and into silence.

'What the fuck," he said, after a second. "I'll teach you the maneuver if you never do that again. Fang, Ivan, get the hostage. You know what to do."

"You sure, boss?" said the one with the broken nose.

"He has an knife in my face and was insane enough to kiss me," said the man. "I'm not taking any unnecessary risks."

"Your funeral," said Ivan, rolling to his feet.

Black Pete and Oluwande converged on the nicer of the two hostages, and Ivan and Fang took the nasty one, who'd spent the last few days verbally abusing Stede and Stede's crew. Stede wasn't all that sorry to see him go.

"Well," he said, as the three of them disappeared into the undergrowth, "I might as well show you back to the ship."

"It's the one that's run aground on the beach," said the man, "isn't it?"

"Oh, you've seen it," said Stede, delighted.

"Captain," Oluwande said, but Stede was quite pleased with himself. He'd won a fight, he'd taken a hostage back, and he'd been promised he would be taught the sword by a professional.

"It's absolutely covered in barnacles," the man said.

"Yes, amazing where they'll grow, isn't it?"

"Oh my god."

"Where are my manners?" Stede put his hand out. "My name is Stede Bonnet, pirate captain."

"Izzy Hands," said the other man, and made no move to shake Stede's hand.

Stede had decided today that he was going to be tenacious until he got what he wanted, whether it was the ship back into the sea or the hostages back into his possession, and so he kept his hand out until Izzy Hands sighed and shook it. Stede beamed at him. "There! That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Izzy only sighed again.

"Who's that dude?" Roach asked when they got back to the beach.

"Ah!" Stede clapped Izzy's shoulder. "This is our guest for the next few weeks."

Izzy looked sharply at him, but before he could say anything, Roach said, "No, him," and pointed behind them.

The wise elder who'd been so helpful with Stede's ghost problem had come out of the forest. Stede beamed at him. "Oh, that's one of their council members. I suppose he wanted to say goodbye."

"I'm not a guest," Izzy informed Roach. "I'm a captive."

"Yeah, whatever," said Roach. "The council guy looks cool. I'm going to go talk to him."

Stede sighed. "They're a lovely bunch," he confessed to Izzy, "but a bit rude, in several senses of the word."

The elder did want to say goodbye to Stede, and Stede felt the grip of his hand with Izzy's gaze on him. "You are more gentleman than pirate." But Stede, remembering that peck on the lips, wasn't feeling particularly gentlemanly. He wasn't sure he minded it; there was something very roguish about taking Izzy Hands as his captive, about making Izzy yield.

"Well," said Stede, once they were aboard again, "shall we retire to my cabin?"

"Fine," said Izzy.

Stede flung open the door just as the Revenge slipped back into the sea on the evening tide. The sun was sinking and Stede thought it made a very pretty picture through the windows.

Izzy glanced around, speechless.

"Nice room, isn't it? I designed it for flow."

"Oh," said Izzy. "You're--this is a leisure activity for you."

"You know about leisure?" Stede was delighted. If this man, who was clearly a pirate, knew some of the things that Stede knew, then Stede knowing about holidays and the like didn't make him any less of a pirate captain. And they could have proper discussions about gentlemanly things. "It's a fair bit of adventure. I've already raided one commercial vessel, and taken two British naval hostages--well, you know all about those."

"I suppose if you can afford it," said Izzy, glancing around the library, rubbing the gauze of the curtain between his fingers, "you might as well do it in style."

And he thought Stede had style. Stede was sure Izzy hadn't intended to let that compliment slip and he cherished it all the more for it.

"Must require a lot of extra work to keep functional, though," said Izzy.

"Oh, I don't like to make the crew work so much. Seems a lot to be asking them, and we manage all right."

Izzy stared at Stede, mouth open and jaw working but no sounds coming out, and then he hung his head. Stede became quite aware that his shirt was still shredded, and his bare skin was in Izzy's line of sight, and flushed again.

"Fuck me," said Izzy. "I thought I was getting a few days' break from the fucking madness of running a fucking ship all by myfuckingself because the fucking captain was too fucking busy being whimsical and instead you're going to get us all sunk or killed. Suppose I'll have to take charge of this, too."

-

And he did. Stede didn't even feel too insulted, since Izzy seemed to be doing it because he cared, and Mr. Buttons had insinuated the crew needed a bit more structure. Izzy gave them structure in spades, snapping and snarling, but he was a sweetheart deep down, and they all seemed to recognize that.

To be sure, Stede asked them about Izzy one night at story time, when Izzy was taking a nap in his cabin to prepare for the night watch later. (Normally, Buttons was the night watch, and Stede had always assumed it was because he liked spending the night on deck, basking in moonglow, and not because it was something that needed doing.)

"He's been really good about the inventory," said Roach. "I like that he's planning our course based on the state of our food stores."

"And the gunpowder," said Wee John dreamily.

Oluwande shrugged. "He does yell a lot, but we are learning about sails and ropes from the yelling. It's actually less work to do things the way he tells us to than to react to everything that's happening as it's happening."

Jim shrugged, and kept sharpening his knife.

"It helps that he can't actually dole out the punishments he threatens us with," said Frenchie. "He's practically harmless but he doesn't know it. Kind of cute that way."

"Oi," Wee John said, "that's a bit emotionally hurtful, that is."

"Emotionally hurtful?" Black Pete spat. "Does no one care that he laughed in my face when I told him I worked for Blackbeard and therefore didn't need him telling me what to do?"

"That's what endeared him to me, at first," said Oluwande.

"Why does no one believe I was part of Blackbeard's crew?"

The Swede raised his hand. "I believe you."

"What you've got to realize," said Buttons, "is that that man has seen a great deal of violence. There's something like a brotherhood of blood. You learn to recognize its membership in others, and, no offense, Pete, you do not have it, and he does. Blackbeard's crew or not, you don't impress him much."

Jim stabbed his knife into the deck, as if for emphasis.

"We're going to have to sand that down in the morning," Frenchie said with a sigh, "or Izzy will yell at us, you know he will."

"It's all right," said the Swede. "It makes it feel like we're a family and Captain is the fun parent and Izzy is the strict but responsible one."

"Oh, come on," said Frenchie. "You didn't have to make it weird."

Stede didn't think it was that weird. Izzy was strict; every time they had a sword-fighting lesson, Stede found himself on the receiving end of his work ethic.

"You said you knew the basics," Izzy said, the day after Stede's crew had voiced their almost unanimous support of him.

"I do!" Stede protested, panting. Izzy was standing over him, sword at Stede's chest again, Stede's shirt in rags. Stede's own sword was halfway across the cabin.

Izzy sheathed his blade and rolled his eyes. "All you knew when we started was which end of the sword to hold."

"Those are the basics."

Izzy pulled Stede off the floor, and Stede staggered against him, and he remembered suddenly how he'd pecked Izzy's lips in the jungle, because that was what dashing pirates did. They were both sweaty from the training, more so Stede than Izzy. But Izzy had the tiniest bit of sheen to him, a bit of a flush from all that that leather, and Stede thought--oh, Stede thought he wore it well.

Stede closed the distance between and fisted a hand in Izzy's shirt, and kissed him again. Only this time it wasn't a peck; this time Stede pushed his way past Izzy's lips, and their tongues met, and Izzy's arm was around Stede's shoulders, and their bodies were touching everywhere, and Izzy's lips were surprisingly soft under Stede's in the midst of the scratchiness of his beard.

Everything felt hot and dizzy and perfectly wonderful, and Stede couldn't help it; he moaned into Izzy's mouth and dug his fingers into Izzy's lower back.

Izzy shuddered and put his hands up against Stede's chest and pushed, and he turned his head away, shuddered again as Stede's lips slid over his cheek.

"I can't," he said harshly.

Stede whined; he would have felt embarrassed about it, but he was too preoccupied by how much he wanted to kiss Izzy, and how Izzy's left hand was touching Stede's bare skin through the slits in his shirt.

"I'm sorry," Izzy said again. "I can't." He was pink in the face. "I--I have someone, back on my ship."

"Oh," said Stede, disappointed. "Yes, I--I left a wife in Barbados." The strict but responsible parent, but he'd never felt this sort of passion for Mary. And he suspected that perhaps whoever Izzy'd left on his ship was equally unsuited to him, for Izzy had clung to Stede so sweetly, and sighed so softly, like a heroine in a romance who'd also never known such passion before.

"I don't," said Izzy, and then, "you're married?"

"You needn't sound so surprised," said Stede. "But I suppose you can understand why it didn't work out." Izzy was, after all, still in Stede's embrace; he seemed to realize that, and began to extricate himself, and Stede grabbed at him--his wrist, his waist--to keep him there. "But--surely this doesn't count."

"What the fuck." But Izzy didn't struggle.

"Because I took you captive," Stede said. 'And that's what pirates are supposed to do, you know. Steal kisses."

"There's fuck-all resale value on kisses," Izzy said. "No--point in stealing them."

Stede would have told him it was metaphorical, but he was quite certain Izzy knew and was being stubborn for the sake of it. He gave Izzy a pleading look instead, and it must have worked, because Izzy sighed and said, "Right. Next lesson, if you can get to the end of it without dropping your sword or cutting yourself on it, you can steal a kiss. Since it's already part of my captivity."

"That's a strong incentive," said Stede.

"You'd thinking learning to fight so you don't fucking die would be incentive enough," Izzy grumbled, but he was blushing. It was marvelous.

-

And it was marvelous, and Stede's performance improved remarkably, knowing what he would get at the end of each lesson. It was also quite nice to not cut himself. Sword blades stung.

But Stede was honest enough with himself to admit it was the kissing he enjoyed the most, the kissing and the sense that Izzy enjoyed it, too.

Stede knew--and disliked--that Izzy had a promised partner on his ship of origin. But Stede also knew that most assignations at sea, much like those at his boarding school, were about releasing tension, about exchanging helping hands. They weren't about tenderness, about sliding one's fingers through a man's hair and kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him, while his hands clutched in the billows of one's shirt, and he trembled and chased one's mouth and his beard brush against one's skin and left its mark upon it. And the way Izzy reacted to being kissed, suggested that this tenderness wasn't a part of what he and the man he was promised to normally did. Stede found that depressing, since if Izzy were his, he'd spend hours just kissing Izzy silly. There would be--the other stuff, of course, Stede was quite in favor of the other stuff. He'd yet to experience the other stuff with another man but he did have a very vivid imagination and it got more use every day he had a lesson with Izzy. Still, the kissing was lovely, so lovely, and it was a revelation that it could be this lovely, and Stede could get so lost in it.

Not long after Izzy instituted this great system of rewards, Stede suddenly remembered during one of their lessons that when he finally did master the move he'd kidnapped Izzy for in the first place, he would have to let Izzy go, and then there wouldn't be any more lessons or kisses, and it was enough to send him stumbling, cutting his hand on his own blade with a curse.

Izzy cut the lesson short, cleaned out Stede's wound and bandaged it. "What happened?" he asked. "You're better than this. Usually."

Stede felt all warm and tingly at the praise, and Izzy's hand on his. "Oh. I don't--I suppose I got distracted by a terribly sad thought."

"Idiot," Izzy said, but fondly. Stede'd learned the difference by now.

"No," said Stede, "really; I just remembered that I've promised to let you leave once I've learned enough of the blade, and I do enjoy your company, and you--you do so much for this ship. I'm not sure how we muddled on without you before, and I don't know how we'll keep muddling on without you when you're gone."

Izzy went still, and stared down at the bandage on Stede's hand like he'd never seen blood before. "Idiot," he said again, finally, his fingertips brushing over Stede's. It was a good thing Stede was already sitting down, because his knees went weak and his heart went wild. "You don't--you can't--" He cleared his throat and looked up at Stede, clearly incapable of finishing that sentence. Stede wanted him to; he thought Izzy wanted to as well. But instead he said, "Part of learning to fight is learning to turn off your mind. It becomes instinct. You don't want to get yourself tied up in your own thoughts."

"I see," said Stede. "Would you perhaps like to come a bit closer and help me turn off my thoughts right now?"

Izzy hesitated, then snorted and tugged the bandages so tight that Stede yelped. "No. I told you, you've got to fucking earn it." But he sounded disappointed as well.

If Stede weren't dedicated to straddling the divide between pirate and gentleman, he thought, he might have--ordered Izzy to come closer all the same. But Stede was being a gentleman, everything above the belt, above the clothes. It was immensely frustrating, but also absolutely gorgeous, and he wouldn't change it for the world.

-

"Er," said Frenchie, as Stede finished his discourse on the intersection of manners and piracy. Stede saw the little sketches on the page and wondered--had Frenchie been drawing that all along? For the last few weeks? Stede really had been distracted. "Perhaps we should send out a search party for Lucius," he said. "It can't take that long to find him; the ship's not that big."

"I know you've been a bit busy," said Frenchie, "what with the swords and Izzy and all that, but I second the whole search party for Lucius idea, and also what are we going to do with the hostage?"

"Frenchie," said Stede, wondering if perhaps Lucius had stumbled onto some of the secret passageways, "you know I like to think of Mr. Hands as our guest."

"Not him," Frenchie said. "The bloke from the British Navy? Tall, constantly apologizing, talks about the weather, currently tied to our mast?"

"Oh god," Stede said, "him."

-

The Gentleman Pirate's debut at the Republic of Pirates was not an unqualified success. For one thing, Izzy insisted on staying aboard the ship--said that if it was left unattended, they'd be robbed, which didn't sound right to Stede. What had happened to honor among pirates?

But Stede supposed it was for the best--it meant Izzy wasn't there to witness the outrage of the man who mistook Stede and Lucius and poor Lieutenant Hornberry for prostitutes. Nor was he there to see the absolute ruin those savages made of Lucius's outfit. Nor was he there to witness Stede taking a swallow of nose juice from the nose jar--that would have been embarrassing, Stede thought. Especially when Stede then broke the nose jar, and was kneeling on the floor with his hands full of pickled noses and Spanish Jackie pulled out her dagger and stuck it in his face.

The barkeep slunk forward then and muttered something in Spanish Jackie's shell-like, and Stede caught Izzy's name in the murmurs.

Spanish Jackie turned around. "Really? This motherfucker kidnapped Izzy Hands?"

"I wouldn't say kidnapped," said Stede. "I prefer to think of it as making an offer of my hospitality that he couldn't refuse."

"Shut the fuck up," said Spanish Jackie.

"He's quite pleasant to have on board," Stede continued. "A wonderful guest."

Spanish Jackie turned back around. "You sure we're talking about the same Izzy Hands?" she asked. "Whatever. Doesn't matter; you took Hands, you're not Jackie's to kill. Leave, and don't ever come back."

Stede sighed, as he and Lucius and the lieutenant left the tavern. "Well," he said to Lucius, "I don't think I've been banned from anywhere before. It's all quite unjustifiable."

"You did break her nose jar," said Lucius.

"Anyone could," said Lieutenant Hornberry.

"Anyway, it's no great loss," said Lucius. "They threw blood on me, and I don't think the glasses they served us in had been washed in years."

"But that's how you know it's an authentic watering hole for outlaws," protested Stede.

And that was when the barkeep showed up, and told them he could introduce them to a suitable fence, and Stede decided that it hadn't been a wasted trip after all.

"The conquering hero has returned!" Stede announced, as he entered the cabin.

Izzy glanced up from the desk. "Who's he, then?" But he was--there was that tiny smile, at the corner of his mouth, and Stede kissed it, even though this wasn't the end of a lesson.

"We found a fence for the hostage," Stede said, putting his hands around Izzy's waist, and lifting him--not that far up, and not that far away, but enough that Stede could take a few steps and collapse on the bed with Izzy straddling his lap. "I told you you needn't worry."

"I wasn't worried," Izzy lied, making no move to get off of Stede.

"Of course you weren't," Stede said, and cradled Izzy's face. "Might I have another kiss? Even though--"

Izzy swallowed the rest of that sentence, and Stede found himself whining. There was something about this day, the fear, then triumph-- "You kept yourself alive," Izzy said, breaking the kiss, "it's what I've been teaching you--"

"It was a bit touch and go," Stede said, slipping his hand down Izzy's neck and then his spine, drawing him closer, kissing his jaw beyond the beard, and then his throat beneath it. "Got pretty perilous at times."

Izzy gasped. "It's the Republic of Pirates, and you walked in in an overornamented white brocade suit." He fisted one hand in Stede's hair.

"I thought my clothes were nice," Stede murmured, sucking on his neck. He'd promised, at the beginning, that he'd keep this all above the belt, but he wanted to pull Izzy against him, and the transition of black leather waistcoat to black leather trousers was so--easy. So smooth. Izzy's hips rolled at his touch.

"I wanted to rip them off you," said Izzy.

Stede made a note to wear them more often then. "You'd let me unbutton them first, wouldn't you?" He was almost certain Izzy wouldn't, and he could imagine it now, and he thought Izzy was thinking about it too, the way Izzy tugged Stede's face back up and was kissing him anew, and Stede was arching up against his weight, moving with Izzy, until he was so gone with the roll of Izzy's hips and the the heat of his mouth and the smell of him, that he forgot their rule again, and put his hand on the bulge in Izzy's breeches, and Izzy went completely still and then shuddered all over, his hips jerking again and his teeth closing on Stede's bottom lip, and then his head fell forward, and he was making this soft, contented sound against Stede's cheek.

"Oh," Stede said, realizing-- He was harder than he thought possible, and if Izzy would only move again--just a smidge--

But Izzy looked embarrassed, and horrified, and Stede remembered that there was someone on the other ship, and that the rules were in place for a reason, and before Stede could say another word Izzy was scrambling off his lap and towards the bathroom, and he'd always been too fast for Stede to follow. And despite the sudden onslaught of guilt, Stede was still extremely engorged in his own breeches; there wasn't enough blood left in his legs to let him follow.

They would be approaching the fence's vessel any time now, and Stede supposed he could always apologize to Izzy when he returned. He made quick work of his own excitement with a handkerchief and a few twists of the wrist.

Perhaps the time spent to the fence's vessel and back would also allow Stede to think of something better to say, too; because now, as he wiped himself clean and tucked his member away, all he could think of saying to Izzy was--was that he'd very much like to do that again, their prior commitments be damned.

-

His neck hurt. His stomach hurt. And Mary--Mary was holding up a letter while the flames of hell licked up to embrace Stede.

"I was uncomfortable in a married state," he explained, but that--that was hardly the whole of it. If Stede hadn't been in such a panic, and in such pain, he'd have explained it to her--how his passions weren't just at sea. How he was simply--not meant for marriage. How he wished he could have desired and cherished her as he did Izzy--

Izzy. Stede hadn't even left a letter for him, and he'd taken advantage of the man most horribly, and he--

He opened his eyes and Izzy was there.

"Oh," said Stede, relieved beyond words. "Hello."

"You stupid fucking fuck," Izzy said. He sounded rather hoarse than usual. "I can't fucking believe you trusted that fucking rat Geraldo."

"He was so kind to me," said Stede.

"Of course he was, you wouldn't have fucking followed him to the Spanish fucking Navy if he was mean to you."

"I don't know," said Stede, taking Izzy's hand and bringing it to his lips. "You're quite mean to me and I'd follow you anywhere."

Izzy didn't have an immediate and profane response, which was how Stede realized that they weren't alone, that there was another man in black leather sitting with them. Izzy yanked his hand back as though Stede's lips scalded.

"Hey," said the other man, with the big dark beard and sly smile, who'd heard all about him. Maybe he was a doctor, like Roach. He was wearing fingerless gloves, which Stede supposed would help with manipulating surgical implements.

"Hello," said Stede, since Izzy was so determined to be unpleasant, even though Stede'd been stabbed--and in front of their visitor, no less! "I don't believe we've met."

"I'm Blackbeard," said the man, and shook his hand, even though Stede's had gone completely slack with shock. "I believe you had something of mine."

"Something of--Blackbeard's?" Stede racked his brain. "I'm terribly sorry, but I don't think I do. I would recall stealing something from the Dread Pirate Blackbeard."

Izzy muttered something that Stede didn't quite hear, but, knowing Izzy as he did, got the gist of. "Language, Izzy!" he chided, using his free hand to smack Izzy on the arm. "We have a guest! It's not every day you meet the fearsome pirate Blackbeard!"

Izzy didn't seem to appreciate the honor. At all.

Blackbeard smiled, as if this disrespect were new and fun, instead of extremely rude. But then, maybe they'd been making each other's acquaintance while Stede recovered, and Blackbeard knew this was as polite as Izzy ever got. And then Blackbeard said, "Oh, Iz, you didn't tell him?"

"There's already a man on this ship who claims to have worked for you," Izzy said. "Didn't want to steal Black Pete's thunder."

"So--he really never did?" asked Stede. "I can't believe Pete would lie about something like that."

"He could have worked for one of those fake Blackbeards," Blackbeard said. "Couple of guys tried to fake my whole vibe a few years back, remember, Iz? Whatever happened to them?"

"We killed them and set their ships on fire," said Izzy. "There were no survivors."

"Oh, yeah," said Blackbeard, clapping Izzy on the shoulder. "Best first mate a pirate could ask for." Stede didn't know what to say; of course Izzy would be an amazing first mate, and of course Izzy would be Blackbeard's first mate, but he didn't like looking at them side by side and shoulder to shoulder.

"Took you fucking long enough to notice I was missing," Izzy grumbled.

"Fang said you were taking one of the hostages," said Blackbeard, "and that you'd be back, and then I realized a couple of months had gone by and Ivan explained that you'd actually been taken hostage and Fang isn't good at expressing himself, and some of the boys were getting scurvy and the tremors so we went in search of the ship Ivan said took you."

"Did you send someone out to get oranges and alcohol?" Izzy asked.

Blackbeard paused. "Yes," he said, in the same way Stede had long said yes when Mary'd asked him whether he'd done things he had not, in fact, done. "Hey, this painting here's pretty interesting, what is it, a grain tower?"

"A lighthouse," Stede said. "My wife painted it. We were supposed to be lighthouses to one another."

Izzy looked even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. Stede had only mentioned Mary in passing, and he--he seemed guilty enough about their dalliance as it was.

Blackbeard frowned. "Isn't the point of lighthouses that you're supposed to avoid them so you don't die? You know, with the rocks and the shallows and all that shit?"

Stede blinked. "I've never thought of it that way. Suppose that's why you're Blackbeard, and I'm--the Gentleman Pirate."

"Nothing wrong with being the Gentleman Pirate," said Blackbeard. "There's so much fascinating stuff on this ship. There's even a little model of this ship, on this ship, Iz, it's amazing."

"I've seen it, Ed," said Izzy. "I've been on this ship for two months."

"Oh, right," said Blackbeard. "Isn't it neat?"

"Captain," said Izzy, "focus. Do we have a plan for when the other Spanish Navy ships come after and try to kill us?"

"Of course I have a plan," said Blackbeard. "You're gonna love it. The fog will roll in tonight--I've seen the clouds--they won't be able to see us."

"Brilliant," said Stede.

"But what if they run into us, since they can't see us?"

"Got that covered too. We'll lift anchor and float away, soundlessly, lightlessly, on the full moon current."

Izzy sighed, and Stede felt a bit jealous. He'd thought he was the only one to make Izzy sigh like that. Then he leaned over and whispered something in Blackbeard's ear.

Blackbeard recoiled. "It fucking is not."

"It fucking is," Izzy said. "Want me to go and get the fucking almanac?"

"Fuck you," said Blackbeard. "No. I guess I'll go check on the guns and shit, figure something out."

"Thank you."

"And then when I do, I'm gonna want a tour." Blackbeard swung his legs off the bed and headed out of the cabin.

"Wow," Stede said weakly. "That was Blackbeard." He tried to sit up, but his entire torso hurt, and so did his poor, aching throat.

"Idiot," said Izzy fondly, slipping his arm around Stede's waist and helping him up. "You were stabbed. You nearly asphyxiated."

"I love that you know what asphyxiated means," said Stede, and Izzy flinched. "I don't mean to be--condescending. It just makes me feel less alone, as an educated pirate."

"Bonnet," Izzy said. "Stede. I owe you an apology. If I'd--had better control of myself, I'd have had the presence of mind to ask you who was introducing you to the fence, and would have stopped you from going to the Spanish Navy, who almost killed you. Who would have killed you, if Ed--Blackbeard hadn't been following us."

"But then I would never have gotten to meet Blackbeard."

Izzy sighed. "You heard him. He was running out of supplies, he'd have turned up eventually."

"To get you?" Stede wanted to kiss his frown away, but that would have involved moving, and moving hurt. "If I gave you up. You're still my captive."

"You and everyone else on this ship are Blackbeard's captives," Izzy said flatly. "You live or die at his pleasure."

Stede considered for the most fleeting of moments Blackbeard stealing kisses from him. He shivered just thinking about it. "He did save all our lives," said Stede. "And--and don't apologize." He managed to turn his head to rest his chin on Izzy's shoulder. "I'm the one who should be saying sorry. I made certain promises about how I would conduct myself amorously, and I broke them. It wasn't your fault." He put his hand over Izzy's. "Well, it was your fault, for being so irresistible, but I should have tried harder to resist--"

The cabin door banged open and Blackbeard strode back in. "There's a bunch of marmalade in with the gunpowder," he said, dipping one finger into a jar and licking it off. "Fucking delicious."

"Yes," said Stede, "isn't it? It's my absolute favorite, I'll see if I can get Roach to rustle up some scones and clotted cream; they really make the citrus pop."

"The plan, Edward," Izzy said. Really, he had no appreciation for the finer things in life. Also, Edward? Izzy'd called him that before. Blackbeard, an Edward; Stede had never considered that he might have a name.

Blackbeard sucked another bit of marmalade off his fingers. "Yeah, I was thinking--but first I wanted to see if you had any great big mirrors. One's kind of crucial to the plan."

Stede couldn't quite follow, but-- "I do, in fact." He paused. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I'm Blackbeard, mate."

"Good enough for me," Stede said, and shuffled over to the bookcase. Izzy helped him, a hand on his elbow, and Stede might have leaned on him a little harder than strictly necessary.

Stede pulled down the little mannequin.

"What the fuck?" Izzy said, as the wall swung open.

Stede turned back to Blackbeard. "I had a few secret passageways built into the ship, just for fun."

"Fucking mental," Blackbeard said, and followed them inside. And then--once they were inside, he stood speechless at the sight of Stede's auxiliary wardrobe. "Are these--are these all yours?" he asked, reaching out to skim his fingers over the summer linens.

"I'm afraid so--I'm a bit of a clotheshorse," said Stede. "And, well. Would you like to try some of them on?" he asked because Blackbeard was looking at the clothes, touching them, as though he esteemed fine fashion as much as Stede did. "I daresay we're about the same size."

Izzy made a pained noise, and Blackbeard's eyes snapped away from a light autumn cashmere coat and back to the two of them.

"Right," said Blackbeard. "The mirror." He left the clothes, went over to the mirror. "You gave me the idea, you know, with that painting of yours."

Stede's lips parted. "Oh," he said. "The lighthouse! We're going to pretend to be a lighthouse, so the Spaniards will sail the other way!"

"Got it in one, mate," said Blackbeard, approving. "You think you could climb up there with me? 's your ship, after all."

-

It was, and it survived the night. In the morning, Stede had scones and tea lifted up to them, so Blackbeard--no, Ed; while they were spewing fire into the darkness and Wee John was bellowing out a fog horn's warning, Blackbeard had said to call him Ed--could taste the marmalade at its best.

"You weren't wrong about the clotted cream," Ed said. "Fucking divine, the whole thing."

"Isn't it just?" said Stede.

"This what being an aristocrat is all about?" asked Blackbeard, adding more sugar to his tea.

"A bit," said Stede. "There's a lot of--good food, and clothes. But also a lot of stupid rules."

"Wouldn't mind learning them," said Ed, "if it means getting at more of the food and clothes. It'd be something new, anyway."

"Oh, well," said Stede. "It's not like--like being a pirate. You must know everything about being a pirate."

"Could teach you something of that, if you're willing to teach me something about living the high life," said Ed.

"Really?" Stede asked, amazed. "Wow." Pirate lessons from Blackbeard himself; could he be so lucky?

"I mean, I'm already sticking around while Izzy teaches you the sword thing. He gave you his word, and he's going to keep it; Iz is stupidly honorable like that."

"I don't think honor is particularly stupid," Stede said, although he was pleased that Izzy would be sticking around, and so would Blackbeard.

"Can be, if you're a pirate," said Ed. "Not that I should complain; he swore loyalty to me years ago and hasn't broken that word once."

Part of Stede had been hoping that he might be able to convince Izzy to desert, but--once he'd discovered Izzy's captain was Blackbeard, he'd despaired of it. Stede sighed. "Well, I'm game if you are, but what if he teaches me the maneuver and the two of us still aren't done with the skill-swapping?"

"He'll stay, if I tell him to."

"It's only," said Stede, "I do feel guilty. He thought he'd be here a few days; I might have overrepresented my prowess and kept him away from your ship. And, well, I understand he has an arrangement with one of the pirates on it--"

"Izzy?" Ed asked, sitting up, crumbs falling onto his lap in his surprise. "An arrangement?"

"I'm sure you know that of which I speak," said Stede primly. Blackbeard was a vicious pirate captain, and that sort of bloodthirstiness, that casual acquaintance with violence, had been presented to Stede as the rock of masculinity even among polite society. But if Black Pete had served on Blackbeard's crew or the crew of someone like Blackbeard, and if Izzy had a partner of his own, then surely Blackbeard wasn't averse to letting his men indulge in that aspect of pirate life.

"He say who?" Ed asked, with a tightness to his voice that made Stede think that perhaps not. "Doesn't matter; if I tell him to end it, he will."

And that was tempting, in its own way. If Ed told Izzy to stop, with whoever it was on his ship, whoever wasn't kissing Izzy as he ought to be kissed, touching Izzy as he ought to be touched, then Izzy could always have an arrangement with Stede, and Stede wouldn't have to worry about Izzy leaving. It would take quite a while for even Blackbeard to teach Stede to pirate successfully.

"Anyway," said Ed, draining his tea, and pouring a new cup, "if it were that important, I'd know about it." He raised his cup. "Here's to learning a lot from one each other!"

"Cheers," said Stede, and clinked cups. Everything, he knew, was going to be absolutely perfect from now on.