ninetoes | Noctium Inbox

Oh! Not the answer he expected. Nor is it a question he really has an answer to, but Stede forges ahead confidently anyway.

“It’s regular chocolate that they’ve taken all the color out of to make it sweeter,” he replies without skipping a beat. “Meshes very nicely with the tart cherry.” He arches an eyebrow at Izzy, questioning but also challenging. “Fancy a cuppa?”

Ugh. Curse his sex stupid brain and Bambi legs, he can not get out of this room fast enough.

Izzy could not possibly look less enthused. They have always been very openly vocal about their distaste of each other and as a result have spent very little time together. By design of course. Even on a ship as small as this one. Maybe it’s an opportunity to gain some..kind of leverage. Insight. Anything.

But oh how he longs for a bigger ship. If only to have a place of privacy that isn’t the spare bunk-cum-Stede’s fucking closet.

“If you insist.”

Can Izzy justify this by taking pleasure in Stede making him tea? Being waited on personally by the great blue buffoon? We’re going to find out. And so he sits at the table, not moving a single inch to assist.

"Oh, I do," Stede replies, not missing a beat, smiling smugly to himself as he goes about making the tea. He hadn't made the offer with the intention of winning, per se, but he does have the distinct impression that he's won, which is always satisfying when Izzy is involved. It doesn't even occur to him to ask him to make the tea, as Stede isn't confident the man wouldn't poison him.

Hmm. Interesting thought.

He has to step into the galley to boil the water, but he returns in a few minutes with a tray of scones and a pot of hot water, which he steeps the tea leaves in with practiced movements. "Lovely tea they grow here, it's not quite what we've got at home but it's quite the bracing sip!"

The time alone gives Izzy a chance to breathe and collect his thoughts, idly observing the room his captains- no, wrong, Stede and his captain share. It’s a far cry from the elaborate quarters of The Revenge and even farther from the den of curio Edward had crafted on The Queen Anne, but he can see scraps and hints of the two men’s personalities here and there. Little knick knacks Izzy supposes Edward found. Stede’s succulents on the window sill. Fine bedding and even finer dressing gowns on the back of the door. Very much a room that Izzy does not feel he belongs in. At all. And yet this is the third time he’s been in here for debauchery. The first time he has stayed longer than he should.

He wonders if this will become a habit. There’s obviously been some agreement made about him which he can’t wrap his mind around. To share a toy, he supposes. Without work to focus his life, is that Izzy’s new place? Are they well and truly retired? Just like that? It feels as though the floor has dropped out right from under him, replaced with a foreign deck and domestic dinners and more sex- more intense sex- then he has even countered.

Izzy Hands is a good shag if only because he commits to it with the unwavering single mindedness in which he approaches everything in life, but this whole…situation. This thing with emotions and magic and close quarters. It’s messy. It’s messy and shifting and he doesn’t like it at all.

When Stede returns, Izzy nods as he listens, finally coming back to himself a bit. His heart has stopped pounding so hard. His brain has begun to fire again.

“I’m more of an Earl Grey man,” he admits and gives Stede the first scrap of personal information he can bear to part with. Yea it’s anachronistic don’t @ me.

Stede does some contemplation of his own while he fixes the kettle, his hands a little bit shaky as the adrenaline wears off and his blood stops pounding. Everything has happened so quickly, he reels a little as his brain catches up, as he assesses the facts.

Izzy loves Ed. Izzy hates Stede. Stede's not a big fan of Izzy, but he loves Ed, and Ed...Ed needs Izzy, he thinks. They need each other, the two of them, and try as he might, Stede can't find it in himself to tear them apart from each other, even after all the betrayal and antagonism. That's why he's doing this, he tells himself. It just makes sense, to try and keep the peace, and perhaps reap a little bit of reward from the arrangement.

It has nothing to do with Izzy and the fact that he is so clearly and desperately in need of some positive attention. Absolutely nothing to do with the kiss they'd shared, mid-blowjob, whispering each other's names into the space between them—

Abruptly, Stede grabs one of the scones and licks it, before placing it back on the tray on Izzy's side and marching back into the room.

"Love an Earl Grey," he comments as he sits down, putting a scone on his plate from the tray and pre-emptively beginning to spoon sugar into his teacup. "I'm surprised, I think I've only ever seen you drink coffee."

“It’s expensive. Hard to come by in our parts,” Izzy says with a noncommittal tone as he inspects the scone. It’s oddly shiny on top but he puts it down to the humidity in the sea air.

“Only time you can get it is off an English ship and even then it’s luck. Plus,” he takes a bite of the scone and is genuinely surprised by how nice it is. White chocolate. Who knew.

“-i’ve done my best to avoid English ships.”

Earl Grey is really more of a lofty desire.

Stede is saved from a smirk as Izzy bites into his saliva-coated scone by the mention of English ships; his expression grows very still, in fact, his posture stiffening.

"I could beg to differ," he replies, his tone growing a touch cooler. "Last time I saw you before we came here, you came swanning in on an English ship." Oops. He thought he was over it but he is definitely and absolutely not over it. The tea is done steeping, so he pours a cup for himself and then Izzy, studiously avoiding the other man's gaze.

"I suppose that's best left back home, though."

No, that’s. That’s a fair observation. Izzy’s chewing slows and he swallows while he thinks.

He doesn’t want to talk about what happened, not really, but then again he isn’t sorry. He’s only sorry the plan went wrong.

He also recognises that if they don’t talk about it then it will sit like a third party at the table for the rest of their miserable fucking lives.

“I won’t apologise for making that deal. I moved fucking mountains to make that happen. I did what I had to ‘n it was the only way.”

He will always cringe at the words Friend Of The Crown attached to his name, but. It worked, didn’t it.

“We can fuck all you like, but know this. I will always do whatever I have to in order to preserve Edward’s life.”

Even if Edward doesn’t want it. Even at Stede’s expense.

Stede has to fight down the smug grin that wants to rise to his face, watching Izzy swallow that scone. He does lean back in his chair, though, crossing his arms over his chest as Izzy speaks.

"Mmm. I suppose you must have truly thought so, or you wouldn't have done it." We can fuck all you like, Izzy says, and Stede's cheeks color a bit, high on his cheekbones. Still, his gaze down the barrel of his aquiline nose is steady.

"We have that in common, then." It's truly a two-man job, it only makes sense to have the both of them looking out for Edward. "But I promise you your next betrayal will be your last." He uncrosses his arms, stirring cream into his tea and taking a prim sip of it, satisfied with his threat.

Mm. Not loving that.

Granted he and Stede threaten each other all the time. They square up and bark and fight with crossed blades and crossed wills, each of them keen to take the other down several pegs if not off the board entirely.

That hasn’t changed much. The threats are still absolutely real.

Seems fair, Izzy thinks but doesn’t want to say. After all he doesn’t think he’s betrayed Edward. Fucked him off, yeah, but it was for his own good.

Doesn’t matter in the end. They’re here now. It was for nothing.

It’s better here, something murmurs in the back of his head. He isn’t ready to admit it just yet.

“Then give me a reason,” he says instead, voice sharp. Izzy makes no move to investigate his cup of tea. No sugar or cream. No frills.

Technically..traitor may be on the cards but he will not tolerate being told as such or having that hung around his neck like Judas. If pressed, he would do it again.

So much for a productive conversation. The threat lands and burrows deep into all Izzy’s worries and insecurities.

“These taste fuckin’ awful,” Izzy decides (not they don’t, it’s delicious) and lets the scone flip out of his hand onto the table, pulling himself up to his feet.

“Fuck this, I’m out.”

Stede almost feels bad. They'd been doing so well, hadn't they? Not ten minutes ago, he'd had Izzy writhing and moaning beneath him, and now they're back here, all sharp words and cold voices. He'd feel bad except it feels like restored equilibrium, and that alone keeps him from relenting. Breaking down and asking for Izzy to stay. He doesn't need it. They don't have to be friends, or like each other, as much as that goes against everything Stede stands for.

It would be nice, to like each other. But that will take some time, he's sure of it. He can't push it.

He watches the scone tumble to the floor in a crumbly mess, watches Izzy get to his feet. "That's alright," he says mildly, as Izzy goes for the door. "I licked that scone before you ate it."

The barb lands perfectly between two of Izzy’s ribs and he gives a noise of kneejerk, spewing venom.

He turns on his heel and takes a step back like he’s going to flip out and fucking throttle the poncy bastard but he doesn’t.

He also doesn’t have a come back, but fully believes it to be the truth.

“Fuh-!!! You also taste fucking awful!” Izzy growls and flips the bird before rage quitting the entire interaction.

Stede just grins as Izzy leaves, hissing and spitting, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the table after he's gone. He enjoys the rest of his tea and scones and thinks about what's just happened.

Was it productive? Maybe. Was it fun? Absolutely. He can't wait to tell Ed.

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