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Frenchie crept his way between his shipmates. Carefully stepping over some and dodging under others. He had to admit it was an excellent practice in stealth. Once he was clear, it was a quick walk to Izzy’s room.
He tapped the door with his fingers twice, waited a few seconds, and opened the door just enough to slip in.
Izzy was sitting on his bed, back against the wall.
It had been a tiring day. Frenchie might have a stable coping mechanism, but Izzy wasn’t so lucky.
Frenchie sat right next to him on the bed. So close that their sides touched all the way down. He pulled Izzy’s hand out of his lap, slowly pulled off his glove, and laid it over Izzy’s leg. Their fingers laced together just as perfectly as the night before.
Not one to sit in silence for long, Frenchie started to hum. It was a tune he had been working on for a while. He wished he still had his lute, so he could get it out of his head.
"Hey,” was all Izzy said.
Frenchie looked at him. His gratitude was shining in his eyes. They both knew he wouldn’t be able to say it. He didn’t have to.
“Anytime Babe.”
Izzy just scoffed and looked away. It was enough for Frenchie. Even the barest of affections were milestones for Izzy.
Frenchie couldn’t be described as a patient man normally, but he could wait for this. He knew since their first night together. They were clumsy and fast, and Izzy had never experienced real care. He deserved so much more than Blackbeard and this Godforsaken ship. If they ever made it to Port again, Frenchie was going to try to convince Izzy to leave with him.
Izzy grunted as he sat up to dress down for sleep. Frenchie just watched, humming that same tune.
Once he was almost done, Frenchie laid down his back half against the wall. Izzy pulled his boots back on and laid down, keeping his right arm in the air. Frenchie ducked under it and cuddled against his chest. Izzy let his arm down and pulled Frenchie impossibly closer.
How could something so simple feel so good? Not long ago, Frenchie was trying to throw Izzy to his death. He couldn’t have imagined that he would need the sound of Izzy’s heartbeat to sleep peacefully.
Such an impossible thing. And yet here he was. Being lulled to sleep by the steady thumping of Israel Hands’s heart. It anchored him more than any other beat. No drum or tune could bring him this much peace.
He hoped Izzy felt the same.