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OFMD FICLET: matelotage
matelotage
Edward/Izzy | gen | ~1,000 words
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izzythecowboy, who wanted married EdIzzy. Originally posted here.
--
Ed asks, "How's the crew?" as soon as Izzy closes the door behind him.
As far as Izzy's concerned, the crew is a bunch of faithless cunts. The La Concorde has only made port once since the mutiny; most of the men on deck are Hornigold's leftovers, and too many of them had waited to declare for Ed until it was clear the old bastard was as good as dead. Izzy doesn't trust any of them, and there are at least two who'd serve Ed better with a slit throat. Izzy will have to do it himself, unless he can maneuver them into killing each other.
But that's not what Ed's asking. Izzy says, "Only minor injuries."
"What about Horace?" Ed presses. He's wearing the leather pants he picked up on their last raid. They look strange on him, after years of seeing him in maroon, rough-spun breeches. Becoming, but strange. "I saw him take that knife."
"It didn't hit anything important. Doc Thomas already put a hot blade to it."
"And the take?"
"Cloth, mostly."
Ed brightens a bit. "Silk?"
"Cotton." Silk fetches considerably better prices, but it's nearly impossible to get this time of year. Izzy continues, "Provisions, which we need. Some spices. A bit of gold."
"Coins?"
Izzy shakes his head. "Fripperies. The kind of dross posh twats put in their houses." A frown tugs at Ed's mouth, so Izzy adds, "That Dutch fellow in the Republic—Roord—he'll buy it by weight."
"I know," Ed says, dismissive. He pauses before asking, "We did alright though, yeah? For our second raid out from under Old Horny's thumb?"
"Yeah, Boss. We did."
Ed murmurs, "Boss," under his breath. He pauses again. He spends a few moments fiddling with something in the pocket of his shirt. Then: "Iz, come here."
Izzy can't imagine what Ed wants, but it's an order, so he follows it. He takes a step closer, and—after Ed scoffs and beckons him with his other hand—another. He hesitates then, and Ed pulls him yet closer by the sleeve.
"Iz." Ed rests his hand on Izzy's shoulder, then drags it down the length of Izzy's arm—slowly, almost a caress. When he reaches Izzy's wrist, he tucks two fingers under the band of his glove, nestling them into the center of Izzy's palm. He strokes the burned skin there, the reminder of a fire they escaped together. "Is that all I am to you, mate? Your boss?"
"You—" Izzy looks away.
He wants Ed, certainly. And they've touched each other before; they shared a bunk on Hornigold's ship so long that it was almost inevitable that they'd seek relief in each other. But he never imagined that Ed wanted anything more than his hand when he woke up hard, or sometimes his mouth, and that was before Jack signed on and they fell in together. Before Ed got promoted—first to first mate, then to his own command—and they'd stopped sleeping in the same cot at all.
He'd been surprised, after Hornigold's corpse went overboard, when Ed pulled him aside and asked him to be his first mate. He'd been sure Ed would ask Jack—and that Jack would agree, for all the noise he made about wanting his own ship while the mutiny was being planned. But Ed had asked him. He'd said that he had plans, and that Izzy was the only one he trusted to make them happen.
"Iz." Ed cups Izzy's jaw, a move that startles Izzy into stepping back, but Ed just follows him, huffing out a laugh. He rubs his thumb over Izzy's lower lip, then says, "I've got something for you," and a shiny bit flashes in his other hand.
It's a ring. Gold with some kind of green stone—probably agate or jade, although it's impossible to tell in the cabin's flickering candlelight. It's old; the inside of the band is worn from years and years on a finger.
"I took it in our last raid with the old goat," Ed says, when Izzy just stares at him. "Cut it off some dead twat's finger. I had to keep it in my mouth when we turned in the loot so Sebastian wouldn't find it." After a pause, he puts it in Izzy's gloved hand and curls his fingers around it. "I want you to have it. I want us to—"
"Ed," Izzy cuts in. His heart is beating in his throat. He'd had a matelot once, during his time in the Navy, but James went overboard in a storm, and a year later, Izzy had been sailing on his own hook. He's never considered anchoring himself to someone else—least of all Ed, who is brilliant, and addictive, and too beautiful by half. "You don't have to."
"I know that," Ed replies. He squeezes Izzy's hand, still closed over the ring. "I want to. I want you."
"I'm not… I won't leave you," Izzy insists. "Even without this. I wouldn't—"
"I know that too." Ed frowns at Izzy for a moment, then says, "Not why I'm asking," and pulls Izzy in for a kiss.
It's soft and chaste—just a brush of lips and Ed's hand sliding to the back of Izzy's neck, but Izzy finds himself gasping and grabbing at Ed's arms.
As Ed pulls back, he asks, "You get it now?"
Izzy does. And he shouldn't—there are financial implications for Ed, and it could undermine his authority if they aren't careful—but it's Ed. Izzy can't say no.
"Yeah."
Ed smiles at him. "We're going to be the greatest pirates in history."
"You might."
"Nah, mate. Both of us."
Edward/Izzy | gen | ~1,000 words
For
--
Ed asks, "How's the crew?" as soon as Izzy closes the door behind him.
As far as Izzy's concerned, the crew is a bunch of faithless cunts. The La Concorde has only made port once since the mutiny; most of the men on deck are Hornigold's leftovers, and too many of them had waited to declare for Ed until it was clear the old bastard was as good as dead. Izzy doesn't trust any of them, and there are at least two who'd serve Ed better with a slit throat. Izzy will have to do it himself, unless he can maneuver them into killing each other.
But that's not what Ed's asking. Izzy says, "Only minor injuries."
"What about Horace?" Ed presses. He's wearing the leather pants he picked up on their last raid. They look strange on him, after years of seeing him in maroon, rough-spun breeches. Becoming, but strange. "I saw him take that knife."
"It didn't hit anything important. Doc Thomas already put a hot blade to it."
"And the take?"
"Cloth, mostly."
Ed brightens a bit. "Silk?"
"Cotton." Silk fetches considerably better prices, but it's nearly impossible to get this time of year. Izzy continues, "Provisions, which we need. Some spices. A bit of gold."
"Coins?"
Izzy shakes his head. "Fripperies. The kind of dross posh twats put in their houses." A frown tugs at Ed's mouth, so Izzy adds, "That Dutch fellow in the Republic—Roord—he'll buy it by weight."
"I know," Ed says, dismissive. He pauses before asking, "We did alright though, yeah? For our second raid out from under Old Horny's thumb?"
"Yeah, Boss. We did."
Ed murmurs, "Boss," under his breath. He pauses again. He spends a few moments fiddling with something in the pocket of his shirt. Then: "Iz, come here."
Izzy can't imagine what Ed wants, but it's an order, so he follows it. He takes a step closer, and—after Ed scoffs and beckons him with his other hand—another. He hesitates then, and Ed pulls him yet closer by the sleeve.
"Iz." Ed rests his hand on Izzy's shoulder, then drags it down the length of Izzy's arm—slowly, almost a caress. When he reaches Izzy's wrist, he tucks two fingers under the band of his glove, nestling them into the center of Izzy's palm. He strokes the burned skin there, the reminder of a fire they escaped together. "Is that all I am to you, mate? Your boss?"
"You—" Izzy looks away.
He wants Ed, certainly. And they've touched each other before; they shared a bunk on Hornigold's ship so long that it was almost inevitable that they'd seek relief in each other. But he never imagined that Ed wanted anything more than his hand when he woke up hard, or sometimes his mouth, and that was before Jack signed on and they fell in together. Before Ed got promoted—first to first mate, then to his own command—and they'd stopped sleeping in the same cot at all.
He'd been surprised, after Hornigold's corpse went overboard, when Ed pulled him aside and asked him to be his first mate. He'd been sure Ed would ask Jack—and that Jack would agree, for all the noise he made about wanting his own ship while the mutiny was being planned. But Ed had asked him. He'd said that he had plans, and that Izzy was the only one he trusted to make them happen.
"Iz." Ed cups Izzy's jaw, a move that startles Izzy into stepping back, but Ed just follows him, huffing out a laugh. He rubs his thumb over Izzy's lower lip, then says, "I've got something for you," and a shiny bit flashes in his other hand.
It's a ring. Gold with some kind of green stone—probably agate or jade, although it's impossible to tell in the cabin's flickering candlelight. It's old; the inside of the band is worn from years and years on a finger.
"I took it in our last raid with the old goat," Ed says, when Izzy just stares at him. "Cut it off some dead twat's finger. I had to keep it in my mouth when we turned in the loot so Sebastian wouldn't find it." After a pause, he puts it in Izzy's gloved hand and curls his fingers around it. "I want you to have it. I want us to—"
"Ed," Izzy cuts in. His heart is beating in his throat. He'd had a matelot once, during his time in the Navy, but James went overboard in a storm, and a year later, Izzy had been sailing on his own hook. He's never considered anchoring himself to someone else—least of all Ed, who is brilliant, and addictive, and too beautiful by half. "You don't have to."
"I know that," Ed replies. He squeezes Izzy's hand, still closed over the ring. "I want to. I want you."
"I'm not… I won't leave you," Izzy insists. "Even without this. I wouldn't—"
"I know that too." Ed frowns at Izzy for a moment, then says, "Not why I'm asking," and pulls Izzy in for a kiss.
It's soft and chaste—just a brush of lips and Ed's hand sliding to the back of Izzy's neck, but Izzy finds himself gasping and grabbing at Ed's arms.
As Ed pulls back, he asks, "You get it now?"
Izzy does. And he shouldn't—there are financial implications for Ed, and it could undermine his authority if they aren't careful—but it's Ed. Izzy can't say no.
"Yeah."
Ed smiles at him. "We're going to be the greatest pirates in history."
"You might."
"Nah, mate. Both of us."