Chapter Text
The little bell above the door jingles brightly when Stede comes in, hair soaking wet and a plastic bag tucked under his arm. Izzy looks up from the wires he’s been trying to connect for an hour, Ed pokes his head out of the back office, mint green flecks spattered into his hair.
“I brought cinnamon rolls. Hurry up, while they’re still hot.” Stede shakes out his drenched jacket and hangs it over a bare nail in the wall. The coat rack should have been delivered a week ago.
“Thanks, mate. Could really use a break, huh, Iz?” Ed wraps an arm around Stede and smacks a kiss into his damp curls. He doesn’t mention the branding on the package, though he must have recognized it. How could he not, having seen that damn logo every day for the last seven years?
“Fucking disgraceful, having to bring in enemy pastry,” Izzy grumbles, reaching into the bag.
“Frenchie says hi, by the way. Told me business has been abysmal since the two of you left.” Stede bites into his own treat, managing to look smug even with frosting on his nose.
“Good.” Izzy’s first bite is warm and soft and floods him with sugar and memories, not all of them bad.
“He and Roach are more than welcome to tell Badminton where he can stick it and join us here.” Ed doesn’t seem to have a fucking care in the world, munching contentedly next to Izzy and Stede. It makes something tighten in Izzy’s chest.
“Edward, we don’t even have a working coffee machine,” he groans. “The pipes under the sink are leaky, half the furniture is either falling apart or not even fucking here, the electric company put a typo in my name so we need to sign the contract again, and how the fuck are we supposed to open in two wee-”
Izzy’s rapidly developing panic attack is cut short by Ed’s mouth on his. Izzy tastes cinnamon, sugar, breathes in the smell of sweat and fresh paint. The cold, knotted thing in his stomach uncoils again, softens all the way when Stede’s hand wraps loosely around the back of his neck.
“We’ll be fine, Iz,” Ed mumbles against his lips. “We’ve been through worse than a bit of shitty plumbing, hm?”
“And you’re not alone,” Stede says, draping the thick rainbow quilt over all three of their laps. “I can sneak away from work and bring you snacks anytime.”
“What the fuck is your job, anyway?” Izzy teases.
“Oh, shush.” Stede pulls Izzy closer against his side.
Izzy lets him, lets his aching back settle against the soft leather sofa, leans his cheek against Ed’s shoulder just to rest his head. Snug between two warm bodies to his left and right, Izzy closes his eyes and listens to the rain hitting the windows of the first place they have ever truly called their own.