Work Text:
There’s a thump, and then muffled swearing, and then a ringing crash, followed by several seconds of loud silence. Lucius eyes Oluwande, who looks increasingly resigned as the noise starts up again.
“Someone should go check on them,” Oluwande sighs, watching the door to the caption’s quarters.
“Not it,” half the crew mutter at once.
“They won’t maroon us again, will they?” the Swede asks, touching his thumb to his forehead.
He’s immediately hushed: “Don’t mention that—” “—Bad juju—” “—Keelhauled for sure—”
They all jump as the door bangs open, banging against the wall. Ed flies out, followed by Izzy right on his tail. Stede is following them, dressed haphazardly in miss-matching shirt and breeches. Lucius can’t remember the last time he’s seen Stede so underdressed.
“Now, now, boys,” he calls anxiously. “Let’s not spill blood before we’ve eaten breakfast!”
“Are they naked?” Lucius asks, squinting at the tangle of limbs on the deck. He can’t see most of Ed, squashed under Izzy as he is—who’s proving himself as a right feral fucker if the way he bites Ed’s shoulder is any indication—but there’s definitely more tattoos on display then he’d like to see this early in the morning. “Oh my god, Ed’s not wearing pants. I’ve never wanted to see less of him—” He cuts himself off. “Wait. Is Izzy wearing your clothes?”
Stede flushes. “Yes. And they’re only partially naked. All the important bits are covered up, so you’re quite lucky in that regard. One time when I was a lad,” he begins to regale them, “I walked into my bedroom whilst Mary was getting changed and I got quite the eyeful—”
“Oh my god! Shut up!” Lucius shrieks, batting away Stede’s hands which have come up and are squeezing the air. God, it’s like his dad talking about sex.
“Feckin’ disgusting,” Wee John agrees.
“Well, alright,” Stede sniffs. “Message received, loud and clear.”
Oluwande clears his throat and nods towards Ed and Izzy, who have moved on from wrestling and are now drawing swords. “Should we deal with that, then?”
As one, they turn to watch Izzy flick Ed’s sword out of his hand with practised ease and tackle him bodily to the ground.
“I think they’ll be okay,” Stede says, wincing as Ed’s head hits the deck harshly. “They’re probably just getting it out of their system. Ed was saying something about “play-fighting” this morning.”
Lucius looks at him dubiously. “D’you think so? Because I definitely saw Izzy bite Ed, and not in the fun way either.”
“Mmhmm,” Stede squeaks. His hands flap nervously. “Oh God, maybe someone should stop them.”
“Well, you are the captain,” Lucius says, nudging him. “You can tell Ed to stand down again, get him all flustered.” He’d had a great time listening to Frenchie tell them that tale.
Stede’s blush crawls down his throat. It’s annoyingly endearing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Ed’s not very—”
Lucius raises his eyebrows. This sounds like gossip. “Ed’s not very what?” he presses. “Wanna talk it through?”
“Well…”
“Fuck you and your fucking boyfriend!”
Lucius startles, head snapping over to Izzy and Ed. Izzy’s caught underneath Ed, pushing his face away with both hands.
“Fuck you!” Ed growls, swinging his fist into Izzy’s stomach.
The crew cheers.
“Get him, Captain!” Frenchie yells.
“Right, I’ll go put a stop to this now, shall I,” Stede says.
“You do that. I’ll just stay here and watch,” Lucius says, patting Stede on the shoulder for courage. He shifts closer to Jim and Oluwande.
“Yes,” Stede agrees. “Wish me luck.” He walks towards Ed and Izzy slowly, clearing hoping for someone call him back. When no one does, he draws his shoulders up and steps closer.
“Now, Edward,” he tries, hands held out in front of him. “This is a very big overreaction—”
“Fuck off, Stede!” both Ed and Izzy yell.
Lucius grins. This is the best morning.
—————————————
Ed yanks his face away from Izzy’s pushy hands and glares. “’S not an overreaction. He’s a thief and a filthy liar.”
Stede rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. Ed’s momentarily distracted by his beautiful face, and Izzy punches him in the gut and shoves him away. Ed wheezes, wrapping an arm across his stomach and bares his teeth.
“You’ll fuckin’ regret this, mate,” he growls, climbing to his feet.
Izzy scoffs. “Unlikely,” he rasps, and kicks Ed’s feet out from under him.
Ed yelps, hands clutching Izzy’s shirt, bringing him down with him. Fuck’s sake. He immediately shoves Izzy’s face into the floor and presses his knee into Izzy’s stomach to keep him still.
“Really, Ed. I expect this kind of behaviour from Izzy, but you?” Stede chides.
“Fuck you,” they growl in unison.
“Look, why don’t you both get dressed and then we can talk this through. Perhaps more privately,” Stede suggests.
“There’s no talking to be had!” Ed cries. “He’s a mutinous little fucker and we’re hanging him! Right now!”
“Fuck’s sake,” Izzy snaps. “It was one fucking jar. How the fuck was I even supposed to know it was yours?”
“It had my name on it!”
“You can’t write!”
Ed pouts. “It was written invisibly.”
“Oh my god.”
“Guys!” Stede interrupts. “No one is hanging anyone, and I regret to inform you, Ed, but you can’t write your name invisibly and expect Izzy to know.”
Izzy looks impossibly smug. Ed wants to smack it off his face a little bit. Kind of a lot, actually.
“No, we’re still hanging him,” he says, dragging Izzy up. “It’s what he deserves.”
Izzy protests this by yanking Ed’s arm down, pulling him off balance and throwing him to the deck.
Fantastic, he thinks, stuck underneath Izzy, a thief and a mutinous first mate. He shares this thought with Izzy, who promptly jabs him in the stomach and presses an arm against his throat, cutting off Ed’s unfortunate squeak.
Izzy’s eyebrows raise. “What the fuck?”
Ed’s face heats up, and he tamps down the urge to cover his mouth. Play it cool. You’re fuckin’ Blackbeard.
“Darling?” Stede asks. Of course he has to bring more attention to it. “Are you okay?”
Ed clocks the exact moment Izzy realises what’s happened. “Yep,” he chokes out. “’M fine. It was nothing.”
“You’re not hurt, are you?” Stede presses. “You’d tell me if you were, right?”
“Yes,” he says, thankfully sounding less strangled. “Absolutely. I’m just—”
He’s cut off as Izzy pokes him again. He can’t help it—both hands come up to cover his mouth.
“Didn’t realise you were still—”
Ed kicks him in the foot. Izzy shuts up instantly, face screwing up in pain.
“Close your fuckin’ mouth before I sew it shut,” he hisses, just to seal the deal.
“Bold, considering you’re the one who’s—”
“Shut up!”
Ed’s not sure his face has ever been so red. He really shouldn’t have shaved yesterday; the stubble could have at least hidden some of it.
Izzy rolls his eyes and wriggles his finger between Ed’s ribs like it’s his fucking job: thorough, methodical, and harsh.
“Wait! Let’s talk about thihihis!” he cries, batting at Izzy with one hand and covering his face with the other.
“Darling,” Stede says, sounding impossibly fond, “Are you ticklish?”
As if Ed will just say yes, absolutely, I’m so ticklish you could touch me anywhere and I’ll cry.
“Maybehehee!” he shouts before his brain catches up to his mouth, muffled against his palm. Fuck. Maybe he will just answer honestly then.
Izzy scoffs above him. “Maybe? Touch him just about anywhere and he’ll throw a fucking fit.”
And he proves his point, scribbling mercilessly against Ed’s stomach. Ed shrieks, squirming uselessly. He is, as Izzy so kindly put it, throwing a fucking fit.
“Not true!” he cries, covering his face with both hands. “He’s a lying shit, I’ve always said that.”
He chances a glance at Stede from between his fingers. To his mounting despair, Stede looks delighted.
He hears the crew’s incredulous laughter, and then Izzy’s tickling his sides, crawling his fingers up and down, and Ed’s brain goes blank. Snickers fall out of Ed’s mouth, despite his best attempts to stay silent. Izzy ignores his flailing and reaches behind him to squeeze Ed’s right knee. Ed’s leg jumps, even as he tries not to react.
“Izzihiy,” Ed protests, feet scrabbling uselessly against the deck.
Izzy pauses. “Yes?”
Ed pouts. “I hate you.”
“Please. You wouldn’t survive without me.” Izzy punctuates his point with a sharp jab to Ed’s side, mouth quirking when Ed jerks.
“Izzy,” he pleads again, twitching.
“Begging already, Edward?” Izzy smirks and fuck no, that’s enough to clear Ed’s head.
He narrows his eyes. He’s not sure he likes his chances here. Even so, whatever way this goes, it’s infinitely more fun than another morning sitting around waiting for a ship to cross their path. And maybe—a very small maybe, smaller than the chance of Izzy making out with Stede—he’s enjoying himself. Not that he’d ever admit it. “You’ll have to try harder than that, Israel.”
Izzy grins. Ed’s not sure he’s seen Izzy smile like that in a very long time. Maybe when they were younger. He’s overcome with a surge of melancholy, which is quickly overcome with nervous anticipation when Izzy rests his hands on Ed’s sides, fingers curling over his skin. “I don’t think so,” he says. “You’re the most sensitive fucker this side of the Caribbean.”
Ed’s cheeks flush harder, the tips of his ears burning. “Am not,” he says, almost petulantly.
Izzy just rolls his eyes. “Wanna give me a hand here, Bonnet? Or are you just going to stand there like a useless fucking fop?”
Ed stares up at him, speechless. Izzy’s… what? No fucking way. “You… fuckin’ what?” he manages.
Shrugging, Izzy says, “Someone’s got to hold you down when you start flailing.”
Stede kneels beside Ed’s head, brushing his hair out of his face, still wearing that fond smile. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Ed does seem rather against this plan.”
“Fuck’s sake, Bonnet, grow a spine. Ed’s fine; he likes it.”
“Oh my god, Izzy, you can’t just tell him that!” Ed hisses, burying his face in his arms as his face flushes yet again. He may as well just paint his face red and call it a day at this point.
Vaguely, he hears the crew screaming and hollering and he’s reminded that they’re in the middle of the fucking deck, being watched by the whole fucking crew. God, his reputation is never recovering from this.
“Oh!” Stede says, like he’s surprised. “Well, in that case…”
He wiggles his fingers in Ed’s armpits, eliciting a snort. Ed clamps his arms to his sides, but Stede’s fingers are now trapped there, and now his face is uncovered, and Stede’s still looking at him like that and he’s so fucking ticklish.
“Stede!” he squeaks, turning his face into Stede’s knees. “You fuckin’…”
He lets out a small giggle before clamping his lips together, pressed so tightly together they’re practically white.
“Get him, Captain!” someone yells. Probably Lucius, the dickhead. He’s getting another swimming lesson—just as soon as Ed gets out of this.
Stede pulls his hands out, giving Ed a small respite before Izzy’s fingers are scribbling all over him, leaving him shaking in his attempt to appear unbothered. He wriggles, the wood digging uncomfortably into his back. Stede reaches down and takes Ed’s wrists, drawing his hands above his head to give Izzy easy access to his stomach. Ed fights him weakly, mainly on principle, arms instinctively trying to cover himself.
Izzy finds that spot on his side and homes in on it, wiggling his fingers roughly between Ed’s ribs. Ed can’t help it; he dissolves in snickers. Stede holds his hands loosely in one hand and trails his fingers up and down Ed’s side gently. Caught between the softness of Stede and Izzy’s rough tickles, Ed just laughs. He presses his face further into Stede’s knees, muffling his laughter. It’s been literal years since Izzy’s tickled him, much less when he’s been allowed to laugh. He spares a thought for the rare—and unsuccessful—times Izzy tried to get him to grow out of being ticklish, trying to get him used to the feeling.
Izzy moves on suddenly, dragging Ed out of his thoughts as he pinches his hips. He’s entirely unprepared for the feeling and before he can stop it, he’s giggling. Fuckin’ kill him now. Giggling, like a little kid.
He pulls his head away from Stede’s knees and glowers at Izzy, who, in typical Izzy fashion, isn’t even smiling. What a bastard. Here Ed is, unable to stop smiling, and Izzy won’t even crack a little one.
“C’mon mate,” he tries placatingly. “This is taking it a bit far, don’t y’reckon?”
“Tell me to stop,” Izzy challenges.
Ed’s jaw drops. What the fuck. Of all the things to say. Stede’s frozen too, staring at Ed. Waiting for his reply.
“I… uh…”
His brain’s not working; he can’t form a single thought.
“That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” Izzy says, fingers scribbling into his sides.
“Is it weird that I’m suddenly attracted to Izzy?”
Is that Lucius? Ed wonders, peering around Izzy to stare at the scribe. Lucius immediately smirks at him and wiggles his fingers. A sound catches at the back of his throat as he shrinks back to hide behind Izzy. Was that a whimper? He hopes not. That’d be fuckin’ embarrassing. Blackbeard might giggle, but he definitely doesn’t whimper.
“Well?” Izzy prompts, one hand lazily tracing the tattoos on Ed’s side, and he’s abruptly reminded that Izzy’s still waiting for a reply.
“You, uh…” He cringes. He’s an adult, he’s Blackbeard, he can say whatever the hell he wants. “Um… You don’t… I—You can keep—” This is humiliating. He wrestles his hands out of Stede’s grasp and buries his face in them, muttering, “You don’t have to stop. If… you don’t want—to.”
“That’s very gracious of you, Edward,” Stede says.
“Shut the fuck up,” Ed grumbles, keeping his burning face covered.
Stede pulls his hands away from his eyes, smiling gently. “It’s so nice to see your face,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much. You have such a lovely smile.”
Oh god, Ed thinks in horror. Stede cannot be flirting with him right now. He has to shut his eyes, shoving his face back into Stede’s knees, unable to look at either of them. Thankfully, Stede lets him hide, keeping him from getting overwhelmed.
Izzy, after tickling his ribs several times now, has remembered that poking his fingers between his ribs sends Ed into fits of giggles.
Ed just shakes.
“Do you need a break, dear?” Stede teases, clearly enjoying himself.
“Don’t need it. ‘M fine,” Ed says, putting on a brave show. He scowls at Stede’s sceptical look. “This is nothing. Can’t even feel it,” he adds, digging himself into a deeper hole.
Stede snorts, fingers tracing the tattoos on his neck. Ed barely manages to stop himself from scrunching his shoulders. Sort of ruins his point if he gets all squirmy.
“If he wanted a break, he shouldn’t have called my mother a whore,” Izzy says darkly.
“You shouldn’t have eaten my marmalade,” Ed retorts, straining to sit up. His stomach shakes with the effort and he collapses. Fucking Izzy Hands.
“How many fucking times do I have to say this?” Izzy growls, jabbing him sharply. “It didn’t have your fucking name on it. And if you weren’t such a brat, this wouldn’t even be happening.”
Izzy ups his game before Ed can reply, which is probably a good thing because he really doesn’t have anything nice to say about marmalade thieves. It also makes him shriek, because holy fuck, his nerves are shot and that’s his fucking stomach and Izzy knows… not a lot about him but he knows enough, and he definitely fucking knows how to do this.
Izzy’s lips curve into a predatory grin as he lifts his head, and Ed shrinks into the wood. He’s pretty sure his face is doing something stupid from the way Izzy’s eyes glint. Ed knows that glint. His stomach drops. He’s so fucked.
“Wait, wait, Izzy, hold on, let’s talk it throu-hu-hough!”
Izzy ignores him, grips his hips, lowers his head, and presses a raspberry to Ed’s stomach.
Stede lets go of his hands finally and Ed jack-knives at the waist, folding over Izzy’s head, hands clutching at Izzy’s hair, unsure if he wants to push him away or tug him closer. His legs jerk as he screams hysterically. He sucks his stomach in, trembling, quivering, basically cackling as he falls apart.
He thuds back down, head thrown back, giving Stede full access to his neck who takes the opportunity with relish—proper pirate behaviour there, Ed’s almost proud—and Ed writhes underneath Izzy, all his limbs flailing uselessly, and it turns out when you’re laughing so hard it’s not even laughing, just shaking, and you’re also incoherent. Who knew?
Ed gasps for air, face flushed and eyes tearing up as Izzy and Stede pull laugh after laugh out of him. He fuckin’ wails, practically screaming as Izzy chuckles against his stomach and Stede has a crack at his ribs. He’s bloody good at it too, all that watching Izzy, watching Ed’s face for what really makes him squirm. He’s not sure how much more he can take.
Both Izzy and Stede seem to realise that, easing up their attack. Stede wipes away his tears.
“Alright,” Izzy says, sitting back on Ed’s thighs. “You apologise, and we’ll call it quits.”
Ed gapes at him. How dare he? And after he’d stolen Ed’s marmalade too?
“Ed, darling,” Stede says softly, petting his hair, “This is really rather gracious of Izzy. You did say several incredibly insulting things about his family.”
“Over fucking marmalade,” Izzy mutters.
“’S not my fault you can’t read,” Ed argues, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s not a particularly easy move lying down, and he has to lift his head up to see Izzy properly, but he’ll take the slight protection it offers.
“I can read, you fucking fucker,” Izzy snaps. “Just not fucking invisible words,” he snarls, and then makes Ed yelp, body overly sensitive.
“Izzy,” he hisses through gritted teeth, gripping Izzy’s wrists. It does very little to stop his wiggling fingers. In fact, Ed’s willing to bet it has zero effect. He swings his fists feebly, one of them catching Izzy’s shoulder.
“This’d be over if you’d just apologise. I’ll probably have a bruise tomorrow,” Izzy says as Ed lets out a choked laugh.
“I’ll gihive you anohather bruise!” Ed threatens, although the affect is somewhat lost due to the smile he’s powerless to keep off his face.
“Well, that’s just rude,” Stede admonishes, tickling behind his jaw. “Come on, now, love.”
And, well, he’s never been able to deny Stede anything. And even he can admit he was less than kind about Izzy’s family. Still, though, he looks away as he apologises. Can’t go around giving Izzy everything he asks for. The tosser’ll end up insufferable.
“I’m sorry I called your mum a whore,” Ed relents, mumbling into Stede’s legs. He brushes Stede’s hands away and finally scrunches his shoulders to get rid of that tickly feeling. “And said she was easy. And a slag. And married her brother. And said if I fucked her, we’d make a better kid than you. And said your sister—”
“I think we get the picture, Edward,” Stede interrupts, pulling his hands away. He helps Ed sit up as Izzy climbs off him.
Ed leans against Stede, rubbing away the lingering touches on his skin. It’s unexpectedly awkward all of a sudden, with everyone looking at him.
“Perhaps we should go get dressed?” Stede suggests. Ed’s rapidly very aware of how little clothing he’s wearing in just his underwear.
“Yeah, good idea,” he says quietly, avoiding the crew’s stares.
“Back to work, you useless fuckers!” Izzy yells. “The fuck are you looking at?”
The crew jump, quickly walking away to do fuck-all elsewhere, except Lucius, who leans into Izzy and says, “That’s very kind.”
To Ed’s amusement, a faint blush spreads across Izzy’s cheeks.
“Fuck off,” Izzy growls, and turns away abruptly. He offers Ed a hand, averting his gaze when Ed takes it.
“Do that again sometime, eh?” Ed suggests, offering his own hand to Stede. “Maybe without everyone watching?”
Izzy huffs a laugh. “We’ll see.”
“Oh my god, this is too cute,” Lucius grins, faltering as Izzy and Ed turn to glare at him. “Right, I’ll leave you to it. Have a—Good day, or whatever.”
“He’s right, you know,” Stede says, herding them both towards his and Ed’s cabin. “It was very cute. A little unexpected, but goodness, Ed! I’ve never seen someone look so adorable!” He shuts the door behind them, beaming. “Thank you for sharing that with us.”
Ed trips over his own feet. He ignores Izzy’s snort. “Yep!” he squeaks, voice two octaves too high. “Got to be going! Need to—Get dressed and all that.” He ducks his head and heads towards his closet. It’s a leather day, he decides, trying to ignore the squirmy feeling in his stomach.
When he emerges, finally dressed for the day, Stede and Izzy are sharing a glass, waiting for him. He tenses as they stop talking when they see him.
“What’s this? Tickling me finally made you two friends?” he jokes nervously, running a hand through his hair. He’s not sure he’s ready for another bout of tickling just yet.
Stede smiles at him genially. “We were just discussing all the ways to make you laugh.”
Ed chokes. “Great,” he stammers. “Can’t wait.”
“Neither can I!”