Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Edward?” Stede calls for the third time, a bit of annoyance seeping into his tone. “Last call, darling, before I’m off!”

“One sec,” Ed yells back before Stede hears him return to his phone call, raising his voice slightly as he repeats himself to whomever is on the other line. 

Stede gives a soft huff, sitting down on the slipper chair in the entryway. His bags are loaded up, and the driver is ready to go. He’s just about to call to Edward that he’s leaving and will see him in a few days when the man swings around the corner into the hallway, pocketing his phone. Stede stands and Ed comes over to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Sorry, babe,” he mumbles when he pulls back, breath falling against Stede’s lips.

Stede hums, unimpressed with the apology. Nonetheless, he allows Ed to wrap a strong arm around his hip. “Still having trouble with work?”

Ed sighs heavily. “Yeah. Not sure why it’s so difficult to just do what I fucking say, but whatever. I’ll have to go in again.”

Stede frowns. “But you’re still able to join me in a few days?” he asks, pouting up at Ed and making his eyes wider, daring his fiancé to disappoint him.

Ed sighs. “‘Course, love. I’ll get it sorted. No biggie.” 

The car honks from outside. 

“Go on, then,” Ed says, squeezing his hip before letting go. “Give Mum my love, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Ed pulls his phone out of his pocket. Stede opens the door for himself then steps back inside to grab his luggage. 

“Love you,” Ed calls, looking up from his phone. “I’ll see you in a few days!” He’s back down the hallway before Stede even shuts the door. 

Stede frowns. “I love you too,” he answers quietly to himself.

The car honks again, and Stede huffs, gathering his several bags and suitcases. “Yes, alright, I’m coming!” he calls, sparing one last glance down the hall after Edward.

A light layer of snow covers the hills outside the train window. Stede lets his mind wander as he watches the hill pass by, stewing in the anxiety that comes with meeting Ms. Teach for the first time. It was one thing to meet her at Edward’s side, but another altogether to be meeting her on his own, without her son taking up the majority of her attention. He just couldn’t stand the thought of it—when Edward said they’d have to go in on the night of the twenty-third —of his mum all alone there during the holidays.

Besides, Edward had planned to show him around his little hometown, through the neighborhoods with all the best Christmas lights, to the local tree farm to pick his mum out a tree, out to the hills he sledded down as a kid, to the Christmas eve parade…

Stede still intends to do all of it.

The train ride is lovely, the view turning from the city to green pastures and woods to snow-covered villages, and Stede wishes he had Edward to tell his little observations to, but instead he has a car of uninterested strangers watching their phones or resting their eyes. He double checks the map five or six times to be sure he knows the right way to Edward’s mother’s house, but his nerves don’t lessen.

He was excited to meet Ms. Teach when he expected to have Edward by his side. Without her son for her to fuss over, all of her attention will fall on Stede. According to Edward, she’s already skeptical of their quick engagement, and Stede wants more than anything to make a good impression.

He knows it’s all been a bit quick between himself and Edward. But, when you know, you know, right? Stede has certainly spent enough time uncertain and unhappy.

They have so much fun together, and it started the moment they met in a stingy conference room of all places.  They’ve spent hours and hours talking and swapping life stories, though Ed’s proven a bit standoffish about his childhood, which only makes the trip back to his small hometown more exciting. He can’t wait to see the ways Ed celebrated the holidays growing up.

He’s surprised by how quickly the ride passes as he sits lost in thought, nearly missing it when his stop is mumbled over the intercom. It seems he’s the only one getting off here. He stands and gathers his many things, receiving no offers of assistance from his fellow riders. They hold the doors for him, and eventually he’s stood surrounded by bags on the sidewalk outside of the station, a freezing gust of wind stinging at his cheeks and a rideshare app pulled up on his phone.

It’s then that he realizes there doesn’t seem to be any drivers nearby.

Sighing, he pockets his phone and looks around. A taxi, maybe? None seem to be passing by any time soon. In fact, the only vehicle in the vicinity is one that seems to be from an era before Stede could even drive. He stares at the car.

He has Ms. Teach’s number, but he couldn’t possibly ask her to come collect him. He’s meant to be visiting to help her with holiday errands and such. Or whatever it is visiting children do for their aging mothers. 

“Do ye need a lift, son?”

Stede nearly shrieks as he becomes aware of a short, slim, balding, long-haired man in baggy clothes standing just beside him. He looks back out at the car again, pulling his coat tighter around himself as the winds pick up again, and he considers his options.

Stede arrives at Edward’s childhood street about twenty minutes later, now with the knowledge of several different species of local bird, and an invitation to patronize the local tree farm. He bids farewell to his driver, though not without having to remind him again of his several bags in the trunk. As he double checks the address, he realizes the home he’s meant to be going into already has two cars in the driveway for whatever reason. A nice looking SUV is parked beside another car that seems to be from the same era as Mr. Buttons’s.

The end to his travels in sight, he’s suddenly hit with a weariness that he’s been ignoring most of the day. He’s rather hoping Ms. Teach will be excited to see him. Maybe she’ll already have a cup on.

When he rings the bell, he can hear someone rush over to answer it, and the door opens to reveal a small, frail-looking woman with the occasional gray highlights in her dark hair, wrinkles in the tan skin around her eyes, and a soft smile. Her smile quickly falls, however, as she peeks her head through the doorway to look around. 

“Where’s Edward?”

Stede briefly loses his own smile. “Oh no, I thought he told you,” he says. “Something came up with work, so he’ll be arriving a bit later, I’m afraid.”

Ms. Teach’s disappointment is clear as she steps back inside, her shoulders slumping and the brightness leaving her eyes.

“But I’m here to help with anything you need!” Stede offers. He drags his bags into the quaint entryway as Ms. Teach watches with an eyebrow raised. His final bag inside, and the cold winter air shut out again, he offers out a hand.

“It’s lovely to meet you! Edward’s told me so much about you”

Ms. Teach considers for a moment before she hesitantly takes his hand, and Stede forgoes his planned hand kiss for a handshake instead. She looks him over, distaste written plainly across her features, but Stede tries to maintain his own cheery smile.

“And, um, what was your name again?”

Stede lets his own shoulders slump then. “Stede,” he answers.

“Of course, yes,” she says, not really sounding as though it rings any bells. “Well, Stede, the guest room is the second door down the hall. I’ll put a pot on.” She smiles politely, though it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Stede tugs off his winter coat and hangs it on a rack by the door, slowly beginning to transfer luggage from the entryway to the guest room down the hall. The home is quaint with just two small seeming bedrooms, a laundry room, a hall closet, a kitchen, a living room with a small brick fireplace, and an entryway. As he gets the last of his luggage in the room, he realizes it must’ve been converted from Edward’s old room at some point. Though, some things Edward has said lend themselves to the implication that he often had nowhere to sleep as a teenager. The Korn poster on the wall doesn’t seem like a Ms. Teach addition. The scented candles, plain white sheets, and various porcelain biblical figurines do, however. 

Stede leaves his luggage on the floor for now, resisting the urge to poke around for any other remains of Edward’s youth. Surely he can do that when he’s battling the insomnia that comes with trying to sleep in a new place. He slides back out and down the hallway, pausing when his eye catches on something— someone outside. A glass sliding door leads from the living room out into the backyard where there appears to be a recently fallen tree, and, beside it,  a man with an axe chopping wood. Though the very first thing he notices is that the man is shirtless.

He’s got a hairy chest, two firm pecs that all but bounce with his movement, and a belly that jiggles as he lifts the axe again, the muscles in his shoulders flexing. When he steps back, Stede realizes one of his legs is a prosthesis from the knee down, but that’s not where Stede’s eyes are glued as he swings the axe again, bringing it down with a loud crack as the log of wood splinters apart. He tosses the two bits of wood onto a nearby pile, then grabs another log. He wacks at it once, twice, and then three times, and Stede watches the muscles in his shoulders and arms flex and move. He sticks the axe in the stump and lifts his prosthetic leg, placing its foot up on the stump. He picks up the wedge of wood, tearing it the rest of the way apart with his hands.

Stede feels a bit hot all of a sudden. 

Suddenly, Ms. Teach enters his field of vision, opening the glass for herself and sticking her head out. “I’ve put a kettle on, Izzy,” she calls, then steps back inside.

Stede frowns, tilting his head. Who is Izzy? Edward never mentioned any other family members or close family friends. His gaze lingers as Izzy wipes his sweat on a rag, spits into the grass, and then tugs his shirt and overshirt back on.

“Well, feel free to have a seat,” Ms. Teach says, sounding tired. “Isn’t very festive in here, I’m afraid. Haven’t even got a tree up.”

“Oh,” Stede scoffs, stepping into the living room and taking a seat on the nearest chair. “It’s lovely. I’d be happy to pick up a tree for you, though, if you like!”

“Izzy’s bringing me one,” Ms. Teach dismisses. “He does have his car, after all.” She smiles politely.

“Of course.” Stede mirrors the smile.

The sliding door opens and Izzy steps inside, eyes on his phone. In his other hand, he carries a sling of wood. He looks up and immediately makes eye contact with Stede, his brow furrowing. “Who’re you?”

“Hello!” Stede greets, trying to push down the discomfort. He stands, offering a hand out. “I’m Stede!”

Now that he’s getting a good look at the man up close, he notices an ‘x’—or is it a star?—inked onto one cheek, and a swallow tattoo on the side of his neck. His facial hair is shaved into a goatee with the mustache bit quite a bit darker than the beard bit. Stede finds he can see the outline of his pecs through both his shirt and overshirt and a flash of what they looked like bare enters his mind again. He snaps his gaze back up to meet Izzy’s close-set, wide, hazel eyes. He wears a confused expression, tilting his head and glancing between Stede’s extended hand and Ms. Teach.

“Edward’s newes—” Ms. Teach stops herself, smiling politely again. “ Edward’s fiancé ,” she explains, and Stede frowns as he processes the correction, stomach shifting uncomfortably. He really doesn’t know much about Edward’s past, does he? Even his recent past. Is he known for having relationships that become serious quickly?

“Ah,” Izzy says, setting down the sling of wood to give Stede’s hand a single tight shake. He looks around as he lets go, suddenly seeming even more tense than Stede. “It’s…just you here, then?”

It takes Stede a second to process the question. “Oh, I’m afraid so, yes. For the week, at least.”

Izzy seems to relax at that, kicking off his muddy boots and picking up the wood sling again. He carries it over to the brick fireplace. The kettle in the kitchen begins to whistle, and Ms. Teach excuses herself.

Stede follows after Izzy across the room. “I don’t believe I caught your name,” he says, a bit peeved by Izzy’s failure to introduce himself.

Izzy frowns at him. “Izzy,” he answers. “Izzy Hands.” That doesn’t give Stede any of the information he really wanted, but Izzy looks at him expectantly, as though he should have some sort of reaction to the name. When he doesn’t, Izzy hums, looking him over properly.  “You drive in?” he asks before turning back to his task of stacking firewood on the floor beside the fireplace.

Stede nearly misses what he says, eyes traveling down his neck and down the collar of his shirt as he reaches for a bit of wood. “Oh, I took the train,” he answers, bringing his gaze back up to Izzy’s face. 

Izzy furrows his brow. “So, how’d you get in?” 

“A very helpful man called Mr. Buttons offered me a ride!” Stede explains cheerily, half-sitting and half-leaning against the armrest of the nearby settee. “I suppose there aren’t any taxis in this town?”

“Yeah. You’d think your fiancé would’ve warned you of that,” Izzy mentions before crouching down to tend to the fire in the fireplace.

“Oh, I’m sure it just slipped his mind.”

“Right.” Izzy grunts as he moves, pulling back and readjusting his leg. Stede considers offering his assistance, but from their brief encounter thus far, he guesses Izzy might be the kind to be offended by such a thing, the same way his old father refused any help offered his way when his aging body began to fail him.

“How do you know Ms. Teach, then?” he asks.

“Everyone here knows everyone,” Izzy says. “She plays the piano at the church.”

“Ah,” Stede says.

“Not that I’ve been since I was a lad,” Izzy adds. “I spent a lot of time ‘round here as a kid. Figure I owe her one.”

“Oh, then you must’ve known Edward!” Stede says brightly.

Izzy bites his lip, pausing again before quickly gathering up the last of the wood all at once and tossing it into the cart. “Yeah, I knew Ed,” he says.

Stede frowns. 

The sound of silverware tapping against porcelain gets their attention as Ms. Teach returns with a few cups of tea, and Stede hurries over to take his cup and thank her. He takes a seat on the settee and sips at what seems to be a festive blend. He’s not sure he enjoys it, but he’s committed himself to finishing it now, he supposes.

Izzy closes the fireplace and rises to take his cup, steadying himself on the settee and grunting. Stede once again has the urge to stand and offer assistance, but he quells it. The man had been chopping wood just fine. Again, the man’s bare-chested form appears vividly in his mind.

Izzy takes his cup from Ms. Teach with a “thank you” that may as well be said in a different voice than the one he’s been speaking to Stede in.

“I really do appreciate the help, Izzy,” Ms. Teach says to him, holding onto his hand as he takes the mug. 

“It’s no trouble,” Izzy says easily in the same voice. “I’m always happy to stop by.”

Ms. Teach smiles in an undeniably genuine manner. “Well,” she says, “There are always things that need doing, aren’t there? Besides—” She squeezes his hand. “Makes the house feel less empty.” She lets go, and Stede averts his gaze when Izzy nearly catches him looking.

Izzy takes a seat, and the three of them sip their tea in a semi-awkward silence as Stede stews in his discomfort. He’s exhausted already. He’s quite hungry as well, but he’s not sure how to politely inquire about food. Ms. Teach is clearly being looked after in Ed’s absence by whomever this Izzy is. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Maybe the entire trip was a stupid idea. This isn’t his town, or his home, or his family.

The doorbell rings.

Suddenly aware that he’s the most able-bodied in the room, Stede jumps to his feet. Izzy does seem relieved, aborting his movement to get up and settling back against the settee.

Stede opens up the door, to reveal a cardboard sleigh on the pavement outside. A small child  dressed as Santa carries the sleigh on straps around his shoulder, and another small child “pulls” the sleigh with yarn reins and reindeer antlers atop their head.

“Hello, what’s this?” Stede asks, putting on an over-the-top expression at the children’s antics.

“Special delivery from Santa Claus!” the kid dressed as Santa says excitedly and reaches into his bag. He pulls out a small, red-wrapped present and passes it off to his reindeer who hands it to Stede before attempting to head butt him with their antlers. Stede side steps the attack with a gasp and both kids laugh loudly. A pair of adults at the end of the walkway call to them and the children turn their sleigh around, leaving Stede with the present.

He steps back into the house. “A special delivery!” he announces. “From, uh, Santa Claus himself.” He sets the gift box on the coffee table.

Izzy raises his eyebrow as he looks at it. “Who’s doing the hunt?” he asks, glancing over at Ms. Teach. 

She sighs. “Oh, I thought Edward would,” she admits. “I suppose I should let Lisa know we won’t be participating. Oh, and they’ll have it all set up for us…” She sighs again, clicking her tongue disappointedly.

Stede picks up the gift box again, examining it. “Well, a scavenger hunt sounds fun,” he says. “Perhaps I could…”

“It’s a two person thing,” Izzy explains. “For couples, mostly. Or parents and their kids.”

Ms. Teach looks up suddenly, looking between Stede and Izzy. Izzy meets her eyes and an expression of horror briefly crosses his features. “Perhaps you two could do it?” She gestures between the two of them. “It is for charity,” she says to Izzy. “And Edward did always love it growing up,” she says to Stede.

Izzy looks down at the floor, 

 It’s through gritted teeth that he answers, “Yeah. I suppose, I could…”

Ms. Teach brightens again. “Lovely,” she says.

Stede meets Izzy’s eyes. “Yes, lovely…” he repeats.

Within the hour, Ms. Teach is in the kitchen preparing something that smells wonderful, and Izzy’s off with the little old car from the driveway, apparently having reluctantly promised Ms. Teach to pick Stede up for the scavenger hunt.

Stede retires to the bedroom, taking the little red box with him, and he texts Edward a little update. He’s sent a few texts since he got here, but the only one acknowledged with a thumbs up was his message about having arrived safely. He receives no reply again, so he sighs and climbs into bed. Ed’s probably just busy. It’s as though he hates and loves his job at the same time. Stede never really had to do much at his job, delegating the important tasks to those far more skilled, but it seems Edward’s entirety is tied to his work. When Stede brought up possibly retiring, Ed acted like he never even heard of the concept.

He sighs and closes his eyes, the exhaustion from travel washing over him again. He could probably fall asleep right now, but he would prefer not to wake in the middle of the night, or to miss out on the meal Ms. Teach is making. He looks over at the gift box and grabs it off the bedside.

He shakes it slightly, then finally tears the wrapping and takes the lid off. Inside the cardboard gift box is a small velvet ring box. Stede opens it to find a card folded in half, and he quickly opens the card.

Welcome to the 40th annual Christmas Scavenger Hunt, we’re glad to have you along! To start this festive hunt, let us celebrate together in song.

Stede frowns. Well, that’s rather vague isn’t it? He rereads the card then sets it aside, beginning to unpack a bit of his luggage and hanging the garments that weren’t meant to be left folded. He changes into a more comfortable outfit, and then he picks the card up again. He clears his throat. 

“ Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way …” he sings uncertainly. “ Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh …” 

There is no magical reveal of the second clue triggered by his caroling.

He scoffs at himself. “Still,” he says, setting the card down. “Would’ve been cool.”

He lies back against the headboard and sighs, pulling up Edward’s contact. He presses call and listens to it ring, losing hope after the second one. Ed’s generally quick to pick up when he actually does. He sighs and ends the call, dropping his phone onto the bed and lying back to rest his eyes.

The next thing he knows, there’s a tapping at his door rousing him from an impromptu nap. 

“I’ve got dinner ready, if you’re hungry,” Ms. Teach calls.

Stede gathers himself, patting his chest and finding his phone. He lifts it, squinting at the screen to see a few texts from Ed, apologies for missing him, vague explanations about work, and promises to call back as soon as he can. He yawns, cracks his neck, and stands, stomach rumbling as he does. He can smell the spices in the air from the hallway, and he hurries into the kitchen where it seems Ms. Teach is already busying herself with clean-up.

“Help yourself,” she says, gesturing to the food on the stove and a plate out beside it. Stede thanks her and serves himself, taking a seat at the kitchen dining table with his food. It tastes incredible, and he says as much, earning but a tired smile in return. He stares across at the side of the fridge as he eats. 

The entire fridge is covered in photos, and most of the photos seem to be of Edward. Quite a lot of them include a second young boy with dark hair at Edward’s side, and a few where Edward looks younger include a man that must be his father. Edward makes quite the cute child with long dark curls that appear to have been cut shorter than his ears only a few times across his youth. The photos of him as a teen and young adult are far more spare than the ones of him as a young child, and he’s much less smiley in them, oftentimes appearing with a scowl or half-vacant expression. Stede’s heart aches a bit looking at it. He wasn’t a happy child, nor a happy teenager. He wonders if Edward would’ve given him the time of day, had he lived in this little town instead of going to the boarding school in the city. Perhaps they could’ve made each other happy.

Ms. Teach comes to stand beside the fridge, looking over the photos herself with a soft smile. “Do you have children?” she asks.

Stede hurries to swallow his bite of food. “I do! Two. They’re, uh, spending Christmas with their mother and stepfather,” he says. “We’re on good terms, them and I,” he hastily adds. “We’ll have our own little celebration when they’re back.”

Ms. Teach gives him that same polite but not quite genuine smile that’s already beginning to eat at him. He doesn’t remember much about his mother, but he swears she often gave that same sort of smile to the other adults she would speak to.

“Well, that’s lovely,” Ms. Teach says. “Children are wonderful gifts, aren’t they?”

Stede thinks about Ed’s status as an only child. “Yes, they are,” he agrees. Edward really should be here, shouldn’t he? How often does he get to see his mother? She’s quite nearly seventy, he thinks, if not there already. He knows Edward cares for her. All those phone calls he lets go to voicemail and texts he leaves unanswered, but Edward always picks up the second “Mum” pops up on his screen.

“I’m sorry Edward’s been held up,” he says. “I’m sure he wishes he were here with us.”

Ms. Teach scoffs. “Oh, he’s always caught up in something, isn’t he? But, he’s always here come Christmas day.” She smiles in the most genuine way she’s seemed to yet, though it’s tinged with sadness.

They finish their meals mostly in silence, and Stede thinks of offering to clean up, but he has his dish taken out from beneath his nose before he gets the chance. She offers him the bathroom hallway if he needs a shower or anything and then retires to her bedroom for the night. When Stede goes to the living room to read, he can hear her TV playing what sounds like an overdramatic soap.

He tries not to regret coming here ahead of Edward. If he were home, Ed would probably just be checking his phone and emails the entire night, and maybe even ditching him to go into the office again. According to him, the place used to be run like the fucking navy, but he got in a bad way for a bit just before they met and let things slide. To be entirely honest, with the way Edward’s at it lately, Stede’s not sure how the business became so successful to begin with. He must’ve had a much more effective team working with him previously.

Stede finally settles back into bed a bit later, his earlier drowsiness all but gone as he lies there in the dark, hyper-aware of his new environment.

He doesn’t know when exactly Izzy’s coming by to get him tomorrow, which will either blindside him too early in the day or leave him in an uncomfortable state of waiting all morning, nor does he know what’s in store for them in this scavenger hunt. But, if it’s something Edward enjoyed… 

His phone starts buzzing on the bedside, and when he sees Edward’s name light it up, he accidentally hits his elbow against the bedpost in his hurry to answer it, wincing.

“Hello?” he asks, rubbing his sore elbow.

“Hey, love! Sorry I kept missing you,” Ed says. “How’s Mum?”

“Good! I mean, she’s disappointed you didn't come along. Which I did also think you already informed her about.”

“Didn’t I?”

“And honestly, Edward, I don’t think she likes me,” Stede adds with a sigh.

Ed scoffs. “Ah, give her a bit, mate. She’s just got that Mum protectiveness. She’ll come around.”

Stede hums. “I do hope so,” he says. “I wish you were here,” he adds quietly, and before Ed can respond to it, he asks, “How’re things at work?”

Ed sighs loudly through his lips, and then he launches into a tirade about it, complaining about how difficult it is to explain his thought process to his employees, how much more effective his last COO was, how bored he is of all the same old problems rearing their heads over and over. The drowsiness finds Stede again as he listens. He never was great with nor interested in business himself. His colleagues practically ran the firm from the moment his father gave him the mostly for-show title of CEO until the day he officially retired.

He must become less responsive, or at least less coherent, because after a bit Edward stops ranting to chuckle softly. “And you’re half asleep aren’t you?”

“Hm? Oh, no,” Stede scoffs, blinking the bleariness from his eyes.

“Get some rest,” Ed says softly. “I’ll be there in just a few days, yeah? I love you.”

“Hmm. Alright,” Stede concedes, sliding down the bed and lying on his back beneath the covers, phone still held to his ear. “Love you,” he replies sleepily.

Edward chuckles again, warm and lovely. “Goodnight, Stede.”

Chapter Text

Izzy cannot fucking believe he agreed to that bloody hunt. It’s all he can think as he showers, dresses himself, and finally sends a thumbs-up to the group chat to get them to stop blowing his phone up with questions about whether or not he’s coming to the show today. He doesn’t have much of a choice now. These choir performances are always a part of the hunt. He would go anyway, though. He’s grown fond of each of the weird little twats that work at his bar and the rest of the strange circle they run in, so if they want him to go to their little performance, he’ll show up.

This was meant to be his one big holiday thing for the year. That lot is the only group of people he cares about seeing. He could listen to Frenchie, John, Archie, Jim, and the Swede perform, go to lunch with them and the rest, and consider his holiday complete.

But, now he’s signed himself up for at least a day or two of running about with none other than Edward Fucking Teach’s newest flame.

It hardly feels like that long ago that he last saw Ed, putting two middle fingers in his face and finally, finally resigning from the train wreck Edward was driving toward bankruptcy with his indifference. He’s surprised the business has hung on for over three years without him.

The last time he did this hunt was with Ed. They couldn’t have been older than thirteen, but he remembers feeling too old for it as Ed dragged him across town. Ed needed a reason to stay out of the house more than anything then. He vaguely remembers Ed talking about how he used to do the entire hunt with his mum as a kid, winning every year.

He’s out of his flat and on the way to Ms. Teach’s by nine, arriving around nine-thirty and knocking on the door before letting himself in. He takes off his gloves and pockets them, looking around until he spots both Ms. Teach and Bonnet in the kitchen, nodding a hello.

“Izzy,” Ms. Teach calls warmly to him. “Have you had breakfast?”

He hasn’t, though he considers saying he has since he usually doesn’t have much of an appetite in the morning, but when he breathes in, it smells too good to resist. 

Izzy slides into the dining chair across from Stede, and Ms. Teach sets a plate in front of him. He glances over at the pictures, and Stede’s gaze follows, seeming to catch on the same photo. It’s Edward as a teenager sitting  beside Izzy on the bricks of the fireplace, both of them smiling brightly. Stede looks between the photo and Izzy, and Izzy frowns. Stede opens his mouth as if to speak, but Izzy cuts him off before he can. “Did you open the first clue, then?” he asks, not looking up. 

“Oh! Yes!” Stede excuses himself to retrieve the clue. He returns and sets the slip of paper on the table between them. “I wasn’t entirely sure what it was getting at. I mean, a bit vague, isn’t it?”

Izzy glances up and reads the clue, confirming his suspicion. “Town choir,” he says between bites of food. “They’ve got a performance today.”

“Oh! That’s not particularly clear, is it?” Stede picks up the clue again, rereading it.

“First clue’s always one of the church events,” Izzy explains.

“Ah,” Stede says. “Well, it’s good that I’ve got a local to show me the ropes!” he says. “What time is the performance?”

“It’s not until two,” he says.

“Hmm,” Stede hums. “Well, Ms. Teach said you were picking her up a tree, perhaps we could do that first!”

“We?”

Ms. Teach sends him a look and he sighs. “Yeah, alright.”

“Wonderful! I did come to hopefully get to see Edward’s hometown, so…”

“Well, the scavenger hunt is a lovely way to see the town,” Ms. Teach says. “It’ll take you all over.” She collects their plates and Stede frowns after her in a way familiar to Izzy as she starts to wash up. Izzy’s found plenty of areas where he can offer assistance, but she always insists upon the cooking and the tidying, just as she had when Izzy was young. Nearly forty years later, he still rarely leaves her home without being fed.

When they step out into the brisk December air, Bonnet tugs a long, navy blue, wool coat over his black sweater and slacks and then produces a matching scarf, wrapping it around his neck. He looks rather sharp, honestly, though Izzy’s fairly sure he’s wearing head to toe designer brands, and he can only imagine the appalling price tag on the outfit. His curls are also almost annoyingly perfect. Though Izzy’s not sure if it’s more annoying if they’re naturally that way or if he spends ages in front of a mirror to get them like that each morning.

The Christmas Tree farm is a far enough drive that Izzy fears Bonnet will want to make small talk, so he turns on the radio only to be greeted by radio static. He turns the dial and the first channel he finds begins to blare “All I Want For Christmas is You.”

“No,” he says aloud and turns the radio off entirely. He sees Stede frown in his peripheral vision. “We’ll have enough of that later.”

Bonnet makes a “hmph” sound, but he turns back to the window, looking out at the landscapes quietly for a few nearly peaceful minutes while Izzy tries not to think about just how many things tend to be on these scavenger hunts. 

“Perhaps you could tell me about the town,” Stede requests.

Izzy frowns. “I’m not a fucking tour guide.”

“Well, you grew up here, didn’t you?”

Izzy sighs. “Why is it that Edward couldn’t do all this with you again?”

“Well, as I understand it, his new COO of his firm is failing to understand Edward’s vision on how to create and sustain value and…making alternative investments in recapitalization…or something.”

“That—that means nothing. You just said nothing.” Though, it is clear that Edward’s been complaining about his replacement. Which he won’t deny makes him feel a bit smug.

“Oh, I don’t know. Something with his business. Something that had him cursing down the phone and that’s keeping him from coming along. I don’t know. I’m not in charge of him.”

Izzy rolls his eyes. “That’s not what—” he snaps his mouth shut, not sure what he was thinking, offering unrequested insight into Edward. He swallows, going quiet and looking out at the road.

Stede looks over at him, a judgemental sort of expression on his face that noticeably melts into something softer as he looks, and Izzy’s stomach shifts uncomfortably. “Those photos on the fridge of you and Edward,” he says, then waits as if for confirmation that he’s recognized Izzy in them correctly, and Izzy half considers acting as though he doesn’t know what Bonnet’s on about.

“Yeah?” he asks instead.

“Were you good friends?”

Izzy’s quiet for a moment, memories of his childhood briefly floating unbidden to the surface of his mind. Ratty sneakers, sneaking out at night, Edward’s dark curls and wide, wild eyes, the smell of weed and cheap booze and cigarettes.

“Yeah,” he answers, as he turns into the parking lot beside the Christmas tree lot.

Bonnet frowns at him, no doubt frustrated with the short response, but Izzy’s able to find a spot to park before he can think of a follow-up question. He climbs out of the car, immediately catching Mr. Buttons’s eyes when he looks over at the tree park. The man gives him a solemn nod, and he returns it with a thought to himself about the man’s oddness. He’s one of the first of the odd characters that moved into this little town while Izzy was off in the city working with Edward, and one of the first new regulars to start attending his bar.

Stede tugs on a pair of gloves, following Izzy across to the tree lot entrance. He looks around at the snow on the ground, the bright Christmas lights and sparkling decorations, delight evident on his features. He points to a snowperson beside the lot, dressed in a flannel shirt with a pipe sticking out of its mouth and a rainbow pride flag in its other hand. “Oh, isn’t that darling?” he asks Izzy.

The town has always gone all out for Christmas. In Izzy’s youth it mostly just pissed him off. The lucky and well-to-do of the town frolicking and parading their happiness about while Izzy tried his best to scrape together some cash to get his little sisters anything to put beneath the tree. 

“I see you listened to my advice,” Buttons says, standing up straight. “What sort of tree be ye in the market for?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. Are there different trees?” He looks over at Izzy. “I always just have a plastic one.”

“It’s for Ms. Teach,” Izzy says to Buttons, who once again nods solemnly. “Right this way,” he says, then leans his body in one direction before starting off that way. Buttons shows them a few different firs before Izzy picks out the one Ms. Teach would want to fit in what little space there is in her living room. Despite Edward making sure she has more than enough for any bloody mansion she might want, she only ever wanted to keep living in the small house she raised Edward in, brushing off any of the inconveniences that came with it.

“Well, if it isn’t Izzy Hands running the holiday errands,” a familiar voice calls, and Izzy turns to see Ivan, in a black outfit topped off with a bright red Santa hat, on his way over with a wagon to load the tree onto. He moved out to the city years back, but he must be home for the holidays. “I reckon a Christmas tree would wilt and die if it entered the apartment of The Grinch himself,” he says.

Izzy rolls his eyes. “It’s for Ed’s mum, you twat,” he says.

“Aw,” Ivan says, and Izzy glares. “Who’s this then?” he asks, looking at Stede.

“I’m Stede!” Stede greets enthusiastically, holding out a hand to shake Ivan’s.

“Ivan,” Ivan answers, looking between him and Izzy and raising an eyebrow.

“He’s Ed’s fiance,” Izzy says.

“What, actually?” Ivan asks, looking Stede over properly. “Huh.”

Stede’s brow furrows, and Izzy hurries to steer the conversation away from Ed. “Help us get this on my car, yeah?” 

Ivan lifts the tree, starting back out to the parking lot. Ivan and Stede fall a step  behind, and he can hear Stede compliment Ivan on his coat and ask whether or not it was a mix of wool and silk before he loses himself in his thoughts again. He’s managed to keep his thoughts about Edward fairly scarce for the last year or so, even while stopping by Ms. Teach’s fairly frequently, but he supposes the holidays always bring back memories. Honestly, all his fondest childhood memories involve Ed in some way, but especially the ones from the holidays.

“Is Izzy really quite a grinch then?” He zones back in to hear from behind himself as they pull up to his car. “I mean, he is doing the Christmas Hunt with me!”

“No way,  is he?” Ivan asks with a laugh.

“Another favor for Ms. Teach,” he adds in a mumble, and it once again hits him that he’s given up his holiday and his time off to spend alone doing what it is he actually likes. He would do anything for Ms. Teach. It’s not an exaggeration to say he might not be here without her.

Edward hasn’t been back to this town in years. Come Christmas, Ms. Teach usually goes into the city to be with him. When Izzy heard her talking about him finally coming home, he honestly expected that plan to change. Ed doesn’t want to come back here. But, maybe with Stede here already he won’t have a choice. Ivan helps them strap the tree down to the car roof and then pats Izzy on the back.

“You gonna be at the guys’ choir thing, later?” he asks.

“That’s the plan.”

“Sweet. See you there.”

Ms. Teach has on holiday music when they bring the tree in, Izzy carrying it and Stede rushing ahead to get the door for him. He unbundles it and she immediately busies herself lighting it, seeming genuinely quite happy. Boxes of ornaments and tinsel are out on the coffee table, and she’s put a few decorations up around the living room. Izzy should’ve gone and got her a tree days ago. He looks over at Stede, who looks through one of the ornament bins with an odd mix of fondness and melancholy on his face.

Edward should be here. Fucking twat. He knows for a fact Edward doesn’t care that much about the business. He’s letting his mum and his brand new fiance down for another reason. One he’s probably failed to even articulate to himself. Fuck, there he goes again, trying to understand Edward. He doesn’t think he’s ever really going to.

Ms. Teach decorates the tree with the same ornaments he always remembers seeing as a child, and Stede admires each one she places, occasionally trying to engage with her about them. She’s polite but short enough with him that even Izzy feels bad by the time all the ornaments are up. But, he gets it. Bonnet’s just a reminder of Ed, and an unasked for placeholder, and the likelihood that the man who came so suddenly into Ed’s life wouldn’t also suddenly leave it was high. Still, it isn’t Bonnet’s fault. That’s just Ed.

Before he knows it, it’s about time they head off to catch the performance. Stede seems lost in thought staring at a specific ornament on the tree, and when Izzy approaches he can see it’s a photo of Edward as a young child sitting on the parade Santa’s lap with a bright smile on his face. That was well before he and Izzy met in secondary school.

He clears his throat. “Ready?” he asks.

Stede startles slightly. “What? Oh, yes. Right, yes. I’m ready.”

The performance takes place at the church, which is a lovely old building that does look fucking stunning with its brown brick against the snow-blanketed pastures behind it. Plenty of cars fill the parking lot, and Izzy recognizes a few. He’s probably going to spend more time with other people today than he has cumulatively across the past three months otherwise, he realizes as he parks beside Archie’s motorcycle.

“Oh! Izzy, look!” Stede says brightly as he gets out of the car, and he gestures to a sign near the church that reads “Let Us Celebrate Together in Song” with the words “Christmas Scavenger Hunt” written a bit smaller beneath it and an arrow pointing to the side doors of the church. He hurries over, and Izzy follows after him. Through the door inside is a table filled with gift bags and manned by a woman Izzy knows, through Jim and Archie, as Zheng.

“Hello!” Stede greets brightly.

“Christmas Scavenger Hunt?” Zheng asks robotically, sounding rather bored, and Izzy appreciates that she seems to be matching his energy rather than Bonnet’s.

“That’s right!”

“You two are a team?” She looks between Izzy and Stede, and Izzy winces while Stede nods enthusiastically.

“Alright,” she says, “Just put your names down here, and take any bags you like but make sure you get one red and one green.” She smirks slightly at Izzy when she hands him the clipboard, and Izzy jots down his and Bonnet’s names while Stede excitedly picks out two of the various differently wrapped gift bags. He hands one to Izzy that’s wrapped in a red plaid paper, having picked a green one himself that seems much more festive, and Izzy briefly wonders if he should be offended before a mother and two small children come up behind them to claim their own bags, and he ushers Stede out of the way.

They find themselves seats among the pews of the still familiar church. Izzy came here until he was fourteen, and he hasn’t been back since. It looks different, but the same. It’d been a bit of a mindfuck to show up in town a few years ago and find a queer alliance running meetings out of the same church his mum went to until she died. He sees Jim’s nan in the front row and smirks to himself, wondering how in the hell Jim got talked into this.

The choir performances when he was young were formal affairs with stuffy performances of carols, but everyone around seems to be in casual clothes, and he doubts Frenchie, John, Archie, and Jim would all be taking part if it was all just Silent Night and Away in a Manger. The Swede, perhaps.

When they start the night off with Mariah Carey,  he’s proven correct.

He nearly forgets about Bonnet as he takes in the performance. He honestly had no clue that any of them could sing that well, but almost all of them take the lead at some point during the various popular Christmas songs that they sing. The performances he remembers attending always felt so serious, but the entire choir, not just his group of twats, seem to be having a wonderful time. Enough so that Izzy doesn’t even mind hearing Last Christmas for the approximate ten millionth time.

When it’s finished, Izzy ducks outside to decompress as everyone stands to mingle, loud vices filling the echoey church. He lights up a fag, leaning back against the brick flowerbed in the parking lot. Fag between his lips, he opens up the scavenger hunt gift bag. Inside is an assortment of candies, a paper with a bit more information about the scavenger hunt, a stamp card that's been stamped once for the choir, as well as a card that appears to hold one of their next clues. He looks down at the paper, frowning when he reads that there are a total of eight tasks on the hunt. Fucking hell.

He’s nearly half done with his fag when he notices Bonnet stumble out of the church, looking around until his eyes land on Izzy. 

“There you are!” he says as he approaches, making a face at the cigarette smoke as it wafts over toward him, which Izzy finds a bit funny considering how frequently he always knew Ed to smoke. “Your friends were looking for you!”

Izzy raises an eyebrow. Are they his friends? He supposes they’ve hung out enough times outside of work for the label to apply, but it feels a bit odd. He’s never really prioritized friendship before. Just as he puts out the cigarette he sees the lot of them pile out into the parking lot. Archie sees him first, pointing and directing the others’ attention.

“Izzy!” she calls. “You’re coming to lunch, yeah?”

“Yeah, come on,” Jim calls.

“I don’t know, I’m this one’s ride,” he says, nodding to Stede.

Oluwande shrugs. “He can come along.”

Izzy looks back over at Stede.

“I am feeling rather peckish,” he says.

“Wait, who are you again?” Archie asks him.

“Stede!” he answers cheerily and offers his hand.  “That was a lovely performance, by the way.”

“Ah, yes, thank you, thank you,” Archie says, bowing slightly, and the others echo the sentiment.

“To be quite honest, when Izzy said a choir performance I was expecting something more…Catholic?”

Jim laughs. “My Nana wishes.”

“It’s more of a town tradition now than a church thing,” Archie explains. “Sorry Nana.”

“Hey, we threw her a bone with O Holy Night,” Jim says.

“And you did wonderfully with it,” Wee John adds, and Jim scoffs, a blush rising on their cheeks again.

“He’s right, you did,” Izzy agrees.

“Fuck off. Okay–are we going to lunch?”

“Yeah, where to?” Frenchie asks.

“Preferably somewhere quiet,” Izzy interjects as the group start throwing out suggestions. “You guys did great, but, if I hear another carol tonight I am going to fucking scream.”

The group all laugh, and Izzy lets himself grin at least until he catches Stede looking. He clears his throat. “Besides, I’ve got to be fucking sledding tomorrow,” he says and passes Stede the small folded clue card from his gift bag.

Isn’t it lovely when the air gets a chill? Playing in the snow is a wonderful thrill! Let’s take a ride down the biggest, snowiest hill!

Aside from an awkward moment when Stede asks if the group knows Ed and they all go quiet before Archie replies “You mean, like…Izzy’s Ed?” lunch goes well. It’s almost annoying how easily Bonnet manages to bounce off the rest of them, ending up the butt of a plethora of lighthearted jokes. When they slide back into Izzy’s car a few hours later, Stede reaches over to hand him his own gift bag’s card.

We’ve danced and played and tapped our feet, now’s the time for a Christmas treat! For Santa Claus, only the best will do! Can your partner decorate a better cookie than you? #ChristmasHuntCookies

“So,” he says, as Izzy reads it. “What do you think they mean by that?”

“You put it online and a bunch of kids decide which cookie’s best,” Izzy says, remembering scrolling past it all last year on facebook.

“Ah, yes, and that one goes to Santa Claus,” Stede says.

Izzy gives him a look and a short sigh through his nose. “Yes,” he agrees, and Bonnet grins.

Ms. Teach already has everything they need to bake the cookies, but they stop off by the grocery store to pick up frosting, cutters, piping bags, and sprinkles. Though he’s never made them before, or baked at all really, sugar cookies do seem fairly straight forward. While Ms. Teach watches a hallmark movie about people designing competing storefront windows in the living room, Izzy mixes together the batter with the occasional question and comment from his scavenger hunt partner. He assures Stede that yes, baking powder and baking soda are in fact different things and refuses to let Stede taste the uncooked batter. Does the twat want diarrhea?

When the cookies are in the oven, Izzy collapses onto a chair in the living room, suddenly hit all at once with the exhaustion from his socially busy day. 

Ms. Teach sits up as he sits down, immediately attentive. “Oh, love, can I get you anything? A tylenol?”

Izzy only becomes aware of his headache after she offers. He’s tired enough not to object as she stands to go get them for him before he can even answer.

“She’s quite fond of you, isn’t she?” Stede asks, something insecure in his tone.

Izzy rolls his eyes. “She’s known me nearly forty years, Bonnet.”

“Well perhaps you ought to be the one marrying Edward,” he says petulantly and the words settle uncomfortably in Izzy’s stomach. He pictures Ed in his mind, his face just as vivid as the last time Izzy saw him. He never really thought Ed would be the type to get married. He’s still not sure he does.

“How’d it happen then?” he asks, curiosity getting the best of him. “Your engagement?”

“Oh, it wasn’t anything huge, really. We’d just been spending all this time together and it was the most fun either of us had in ages. We realized we wanted to keep doing it forever.” He shrugs like it’s that simple, and Izzy supposes it must be to him. Maybe that’s why he and Ed never would have worked. Nothing between them was ever simple.

The oven timer starts beeping and Izzy becomes hyper aware of his headache again as Stede hurries to take the cookies out. “Alright, Izzy,” he calls from the kitchen. “Prepare to be bested in the art of cookie decoration!”

Cooking decorating, as it turns out, requires more skill than Izzy might have first thought. When his fourth cookie comes out as more of a red and white blob than a depiction of Santa Claus, he decides to sneak a look at his competition. He grins to himself when he finds Stede in the same shape as him, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he focuses deeply on a mistletoe cookie that looks just as much a mess as Izzy’s, the red bow mixing in with the green leaves.

“These are bloody pathetic,” he announces when he gets a look at all twelve. “We cannot share these.”

“You’re just saying that because I’d win.”

Izzy looks between Stede’s six abominations and his own, not too sure. He picks out what he thinks is his best one, a Christmas tree decorated fairly neatly with green and brown frosting and sprinkles placed very carefully as ornaments, and Stede provides its challenger: a penguin with a frosting bow tie and two large sugar pearls for eyes. Stede posts the picture on his profile, tagging Izzy, and creating the poll. Looking through the other posts in the tag, Izzy realizes his more technically skilled cookie is bound to lose against the more interesting penguin.

Sure enough, Bonnet gloats excitedly as people begin to vote.

“They probably think yours was done by a child,” Izzy says, and Stede gasps offendedly. Izzy can’t help but notice the strange stirring in his stomach that seems to happen each time he gets an over-the-top reaction out of the silly looking man, and he has to suppress his grin. 

“Well, one must maintain a sense of childlike whimsy!” he argues.

Izzy raises an eyebrow, but he has no response as he gathers their dishes. He cleans as many as he can before he’s caught and told to go sit down, despite his reassurances that his headache has improved. The sun has already set outside, and there’s nothing left for Izzy to do here, but as he pulls out of the driveway to head home, he doesn’t look forward to arriving at his empty flat.

Chapter Text

Izzy’s glad he only has two things he needs to get done today. All his Christmas gifts were sorted back in November and wrapped last week, Ms. Teach is full up on firewood to keep the house warm as the cold front blows in, and he only has to go into the bar once more this week to double check things before closing up for the holidays. As melancholy as the place felt when he got in, a quiet morning to himself has been a much needed break after yesterday.

He’s not exactly looking forward to dragging Bonnet to a sledding hill of all places. He knows the hill the hunt means to direct them to well, having spent countless winter days sledding, boarding, and saucering down it with Ed, Jack, Anne, and Mary. Bonnet’s getting more comfortable talking to him, too, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. He can only avoid talking about Edward for so long.

His entire holiday week has been turned on its head by that ponce’s arrival. And what’s worse is Izzy can hardly find it within himself to be mad. Would it really have been better spending the week drinking in front of the TV and thinking about the past? This is what people do isn’t it? Get together and celebrate.

His thoughts keep returning to Stede Bonnet. His golden curls, his expressive features, his accent and the way he speaks…He’s bloody annoying. Izzy can’t stop thinking about him. 

He ends up leaving to pick Bonnet up earlier than he said he would. But, he’s surprisingly quiet on the drive over.

The hill is fairly busy with parents and children, and at the base of it a bundled-up Swede mans the scavenger hunt table and the sled rentals set up just beside it. There are three sides to the hill treeless enough to slide down, and each one is steeper than the last. The snow last night left a fresh coat atop the hill, but you can still see plenty of the trails sledders have left today. As he looks at the way up, he realizes he probably should’ve brought hiking sticks rather than just his cane and its affixed anti ice attachment. 

“So,” Stede asks as they wait behind a few kids in line for a sled. They’re not the only team Izzy’s seen on the hunt without children, but they are one of few. “Did you sled here as a child?”

“Yeah,” Izzy says. He considers it before adding, “Me and Ed would come out here a lot. We’d make jumps out of the snow. Used to make each other push the sled to get more speed or put cooking oil on the rails. Few times Eddie flew out into the middle of the fucking road and almost got himself fucking run over.” He smiles slightly at the memory.

“Ahh, so you are capable of talking about Ed,” Stede says.

Izzy rolls his eyes. “Don’t push your luck,” he warns as they come up to the booth.

“One sled for two?” The Swede asks, smiling dopily at them.

“Yes, fine, sure,”  Izzy agrees. “Whatever we need for the next clue.” He hands over ten pound and their stamp card, and he pulls up the post with their cookies as well, showing it to the Swede to get their stamp for completing it. He’s handed the reins to a sled, their stamped card, and another small white card. “Thanks.”

He hands the card to Stede, who opens it and reads it aloud. “ A Christmas tree for all to see, but it needs your contribution to be complete! Add something precious, kind, and true. What does Christmas mean to you ? Ooh, is there a big tree in town?” he asks. “How cute! Are these the same clues that you and Ed would’ve followed as kids?”

“No, they’re vaguely different every year,” Izzy says, still sizing up the hike up the hill.

“Well, we’ll have to think of something to put on it after this.”

“I mean, we’ve got the next clue. We don’t have to sled.”

Stede pouts. There is no other word for what he does but pout, and he says, “If you did it with Edward, then I’d like to do it! Take me to the place he’d say was the best, back then,” he requests.

Izzy sucks his teeth. “Fine,” he says, handing Stede the reins of the sled. “But, it’s on your head if I slip and die.” He sticks his cane in the snow and starts up the hill.

“I’ll catch you,” Stede reassures, following behind, and Izzy hums skeptically, glancing back and sizing him up.

He makes it nearly to the top without incident, stumbling over a rock just as they reach the bit of the hill that Izzy most remembers sledding. Before he can lose his footing and topple over, Stede catches him around the hips. Izzy gasps, steadying himself. 

“Told you,” Stede says, far too pleased with himself. 

Izzy scoffs. “Let’s just get off this fucking hill. Are you sure you want to do the path Eddie and I always took?” The feeling of Stede’s arms around Izzy’s waist lingers even as he lets go. 

“Yes,” Stede reaffirms, and so Izzy takes the sled from him and sets it up on the right spot. It seems even steeper than he remembers, which could well be the actual case, but there also seems to be more room to ride it out than there used to be.

It’s then that it hits him that he should’ve bought two sleds. He and Eddie only ever brought one, and they’d either both use it or take turns with it, but Izzy’s not about to walk down this hill as well, and Stede’s the one who wanted to bloody sled.

Stede gestures to the sled seats. “After you,” he says.

Fucking hell. He sits down on the front seat, adjusting his leg to keep it out of the way, and Bonnet immediately sits down just behind him, chest practically pressed against Izzy’s back.

As Izzy looks at the path before them, he realizes this is definitely a path for a teenager, not a middle aged man. He’s about to say as much when Stede leans forward and lifts his foot off the ground.

The sled slides quickly down the steep path and Izzy’s stomach flips pleasantly at the sudden drop. He’s brought briefly back to that feeling, to being young, wild, carefree, and adrenaline-seeking, as the freezing air stings his cheeks and Stede grips onto him for dear life. 

Just as the rush starts to end and the sled starts to slow down, Stede reaches around Izzy to tug on the reins and then throws his weight to one side, flipping the sled over. Izzy rolls off into the snow with Stede tumbling after him, rolling into him until they’re tangled up and Izzy’s pinned in the snow, strands of his hair falling into his face.

“Fucking, fuck! What the fuck, Bonnet?”

A car zooms past on the road just ahead of them.

“Fuck,” he breathes, looking over at the road they’d nearly sledded onto. He looks up again, still pinned by Stede, and meets his eyes where they are now inches from his own. A few stray curls fall into Stede’s face as he looks down at Izzy, and for a moment Izzy forgets how to breathe, eyes moving down to Stede’s mouth.

Stede rolls off of him. “You’re welcome,” he says breathlessly and annoyingly.

“What does Christmas mean to you, Izzy?” Stede asks, as they peruse the ornament section of a nearby boutique.

“Don’t know. A day off.” Izzy shrugs.

Stede scoffs. “Seriously,” he implores.

Izzy bites his lip. Seriously? Reminders of the mum he never fixed things with. Weird residual guilt about not believing in God. A call from his sisters and their kids just to remind him how alone he is.

“What’s it mean to you?” he asks, looking at a selection of cat themed ornaments.

Stede hums. “Snow. Prettily wrapped presents. Sugary desserts. Cheesy holiday movies.”

Izzy grabs an ornament of a gift box, handing it to Stede. “There you go,” he says.

Stede pouts. “It must be something special,” he says. “Something we both agree represents the meaning of Christmas to us .”

“Or we just get a Santa and call it a day,” Izzy mumbles.

Stede sighs. “I wonder what Ed would pick,” he says, looking at the wall.

Well, Izzy can pick out an ornament just as well as Ed could. He scans the wall of them, eyes stopping on one of a little boy and a little girl, a present between their hands as though one of them is handing it to the other. He offers the ornament out to Stede, and he tilts his head down at it. “I like this one,” he says softly. “What does it represent to you?”

This is fucking stupid. He looks around to make sure no other shoppers seem at all interested in their quiet conversation, and they don’t. “Giving,” he answers. “Family. Community. I like that you can’t tell who’s giving who the gift.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Stede says happily, looking at the ornament again. “That’s lovely, Izzy. I like that.”

“Shut up.” Izzy snatches the ornament back and brings it to the till to pay.

The town square with the big tree is only a few blocks away, so even after their sledding incident, they elect to walk. Izzy hopes he doesn’t regret it tomorrow. It’s already been a pretty busy week for him, and he hasn’t slept well for the last two nights either, but he’s been surprisingly low on the pain scale so far, even with the cold air and over-exertion. It’s bound to all come around and bite him in the arse soon. He leans a bit more heavily on his cane as he walks.

“So, I’ve gathered you and Edward aren’t on the best of terms,” Stede mentions, hands in his pockets as he walks beside Izzy, matching his pace.

“You could say that.”

“Is there any particular reason?” Stede asks. “I mean, it seems you used to be quite close.”

They take a few more steps in silence as Izzy contemplates his response. “I quit his firm three years ago,” he says. “The circumstances weren’t great. I don’t think he’d be happy to see me again.”

“Oh,” Stede says. “I didn’t realize you knew him for so long.”

“We…were more coworkers than friends for the last fucking decade or so,” he says, never having before articulated it to himself so concisely. Fuck, the last time Ed felt like a true friend to him was probably eight years back, when his mum died and Ed gave him a hug before taking over for him so he could last-minute go home and help his sisters sort things. When he got back, Ed took him out to drink, came back to Izzy’s to drink some more, and let him talk about it all: his mum, their childhoods, the pain that came from knowing she died without even seeking him out, the brief moments where he could’ve sworn she did actually care underneath it all. Edward was there. He didn’t get it entirely, but he got it in a way no one else ever could.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned you,” Stede says.

“I’m not,” Izzy answers, smirking a bit. When something bothers Ed, he either fixates or he lets it go entirely. There’s no real in between.

“Hm,” Stede says. “Well, perhaps you two can resolve things when he gets here.”

“Ha,” Izzy laughs humorlessly. “Doubtful.” He turns the corner, and Stede gasps softly, getting his first look at the town’s big tree. 

The wide, 30-foot tree is already lit with golden lights from the top to the bottom, and the bottom is covered with various ornaments placed by fellow Scavenger Hunt participants. It looks a bit silly with all the odd ornaments clustered toward the bottom and nothing but silver and gold baubles up top, but it’s still a lovely sight, especially surrounded with the other lights and decorations of the square. Izzy watches a couple reach up to place an ornament on a higher branch before kissing each other beneath it and taking a photo. On one side of the tree is the scavenger hunt booth, manned this time by a woman Izzy doesn’t recognize. 

Stede hurries over to admire the ornaments already on the tree as Izzy gets their card stamped. They’re halfway through now. When he finds Stede on the other side of the big tree, he is admiring an ornament of a lighthouse, his head tilted and eyes a bit wet. He clears his throat, and Stede blinks, putting on a smile.

“Got the next clue,” Izzy mentions, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to Stede. “This one actually seems worthwhile,” he adds in a mumble as Stede reads the card.

Giving and charity are the heart of the season! What can you do to make sure everyone’s eaten ?

“A food drive?” Stede guesses, and Izzy nods.

“We’ll have to go shopping!” he says. 

Izzy hums in agreement. He tends to only buy what he needs, so he doesn’t really have a pantry to sift through for donatable food. “Did you find a spot, then?” he asks, nodding to the tree.

“Oh, yes. Here seems like it would be a good spot,” he says, gesturing to an empty bit of the tree about a foot above his head. Izzy doesn’t embarrass himself by attempting to reach that high, instead taking the ornament out and handing it to Stede.

“Go on, then, do the honors,” he says.

Stede reaches up and hangs it on a branch, stepping back to admire it among the others. He looks over at Izzy and smiles, and Izzy looks away, the same odd feeling stirring in his stomach again.

Chapter Text

Stede picks up his phone again, obsessively checking for a reply from Ed. Last night on their video call, Edward was strange and quiet, but Stede assumed he was worn out from work. Then, just before they said goodnight to each other, he bit his lip.

“Stede?” His voice was small, the way it only really gets when he’s seeking comfort of some kind.

“Hm?”

“What if, um…What if maybe you just came back here for Christmas?”

Stede frowned. As soon as he objected Ed backed down, seeming even more upset. Stede tried to smooth things over again, to reassure him that they’d have a lovely holiday together, but Edward remained short and downcast, even as he gave a quiet “love you too,” before hanging up. Now, it seems he’s back to leaving Stede’s texts on delivered and missing his calls. But, he always seems to have a later start on the day.

Stede tries to keep himself occupied, writing down a list of things he reckons a food drive would appreciate receiving with a little help from google and trying once again to make conversation with Ed’s mum. She seems to be warming up to him just a little. She lets him join her on the other end of the couch as she watches Christmas movies on TV. He hopes when Edward gets here, she’ll drop her guard a bit more. He’d love to hear some stories about Edward as a child.

It’s not as though it’s been a bad trip so far. Stede’s having a much lovelier time than he should be, all things considered. It’s very much not what he expected: being shown about by a reluctant old friend of Edward’s, struggling to connect at all with his mum, nearly sledding into traffic (he’s a bit sore from how he landed.) He feels rather exhausted himself today, so he can’t imagine how Izzy feels. It must take a great deal more energy moving around with a prosthetic leg. He finds himself wondering how it happened, and how long Izzy’s been doing it.

It is odd that Edward never mentioned him, isn’t it? If they were close? He’s beginning to wonder what exactly Edward has told him about himself and his past. When they’re together, it’s like the world around them falls away, so maybe he just doesn’t think much of his past when around Stede. Stede hasn’t spoken much about his own childhood, or even his life with Mary and the kids. Edward’s probably just trying to move on. But, the past Stede is trying to move on from is the cold, detached, for-show pleasantries of the upper class and the disinterest of first his mother and later his wife. Perhaps Edward’s reluctance to speak about the past has to do with the falling out between himself and Izzy.

Stede is rather quiet when Izzy arrives to pick him up a while after noon. He’s sure the more short-spoken man appreciates the break from conversation. With two more days until Christmas, and Ed arriving tomorrow, he can’t stop thinking about Christmases past. This is his first year without the children. Edward’s mum keeps doing little things or making little remarks that remind Stede of his own mother, dredging up the same old complicated feelings. She was always the kindest with him around the holidays, though she never really seemed to understand him. Always dozens of presents beneath the tree, but never anything that really meant something to him. His best memories with her are of decorating the tree together, helping to mix the batter for the cookies she would decorate, and riding along with her to go Christmas shopping. 

Those are the things he missed the most on his holidays without her.

Riding around with Izzy, looking out at the holiday lights, waiting for their next errand—it’s reminiscent of those wonderful moments he remembers. Though, the uncomfortable silences and judgmental looks that he doesn’t entirely understand are equally as familiar.

When they enter the small, local, rather pricey-seeming grocery store, Stede produces his list from his pocket, unfurling it. “I’ve written down some things that I’ve read are appreciated!”

Izzy looks over at him, eying up his long list. “That’s…thoughtful,” he says.

“Don’t sound too surprised,” Stede remarks.

Izzy raises a challenging eyebrow. “You ever done this before?” he asks.

Stede frowns, caught. “No,” he admits. “Have you?”

Izzy sucks his teeth. “Not from this end,” he admits. 

“From this end?”

Izzy grabs a cart and Stede’s list from his hand, looking it over. “Would get things from the pantry as a teen, after I was kicked out,” Izzy says matter-of-factly. “Eddie and his mum hardly had enough to go around themselves back then, so…”

“Kicked out,” Stede repeats, memories of his father sending him into the city for school and board after his mother’s death resurface in his mind. Though, after a childhood of already feeling burdensome and unwanted, it had been partially a relief to be away from his home and his father, and he never once had to worry about having food on the table come his next meal. “How old were you?”

Izzy clears his throat. “Fourteen,” he says before handing Stede back his list, ignoring his gasp, and nodding to the right toward the other end of the store. “Let’s start with the baby stuff.”

“Fourteen? What, and you just had to figure it out on your own?”

Izzy shrugs. “Ed’s mum helped, but when…” He pauses, looking over at Stede, and Stede raises his eyebrow, hoping he’ll continue. Most of what little tidbits of information he’s gotten about Ed’s childhood so far have come from Izzy, and he’s beginning to pull together a clearer picture. 

Izzy continues, “When she and Ed would fight, we couch surfed with friends or…guys.” He picks a few things off the shelves as they pass. 

“Did they fight often?” Stede asks.

Another pause, and for a moment Stede worries he’s pushed his luck.

“Pretty often, for a while just after his dad passed,” Izzy answers eventually.

Edward’s father’s passing is something Stede does know about, in detail. He remembers Ed telling him the story, teary-eyed and vulnerable. He remembers how genuine and disbelieving his “really?” sounded when Stede reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, like no one had ever told him before. But, that couldn’t be the case. Surely Izzy didn’t think so. Surely, his mother didn’t blame him.

“Poor things,” Stede says quietly. “Both of you.”

Izzy scoffs. “We were rotten little shits,” he says dismissively.

“You were children,” Stede argues.

Izzy doesn’t seem to have a reply to that, directing Stede’s attention instead to the baby formula options in the aisle they’re coming up on.

They leave the shop with a full cart, and Stede hurries to help load the groceries. According to their stamp card, there are still three activities after this, and the deadline seems to be tomorrow. Although, as Stede examines the stamp card in the passenger seat, he realizes they only need to finish four of the eight tasks to be considered winners. Technically, they’ve already won. The card goes on to say that those that get all eight win exclusive front row seats for the Christmas Eve parade, the parade Ed raved about. So, that does sound rather nice. Still, he wonders if he ought to mention it to Izzy. In a way, Stede still feels like they’ve just started. Perhaps he’ll wait and see what the next clue suggests.

The food pantry is run out of the local high school, and he sees the same woman from the scavenger hunt booth in the administrative office as they pass by the building, their donations loaded up into a collapsible wagon from Izzy’s car. Stede smirks to himself. He’s not used to places like this, little communities where all the same people are at the church, the school, and out around at shops. It’s like a movie. Though, he supposes, as a troubled child it certainly wouldn’t feel so comforting to know the whole town knows about your struggles. 

Stede wonders if people showed up after Edward’s father died with meals and condolences, or if they spoke in hushed tones about how terrible it all was for the widower and child. His family would have done that: politely expressed condolences in public just to tell Stede in private how certain kinds of people always seem to find themselves in these sorts of messes.

“So, I take it you lived in the city while you worked for Edward,” Stede says, probing for more information.

“Nearly twenty years,” Izzy admits, and Stede only half hears what he says next about returning to the town just to sort out his mum’s old property after his sister moved, busy trying to wrap his mind around that. So, Izzy and Edward knew one another from childhood, maintaining regular contact until just a few years ago? And Stede’s never heard a thing about him?  “I found a nice bar I could afford, and…” Izzy continues. “It’s as good a place as any to settle down. It’s not like it was when I was a kid.”

“No? How so?”

Izzy shrugs. “Less arseholes.” He sniffs. “Maybe they all died off.”

Stede snorts. “Not like the city then,” he adds, and when Izzy looks over. “We always have a fresh rotation of arseholes.”

Izzy’s lips quirk upward just a bit. “Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees just as they come upon a door labelled prominently as the food pantry, and they step through, wagon in tow.

Stede, as advised  by the internet, writes a check to donate as well, slipping it in among the boxed snacks. It’s strange to imagine a young Edward or Izzy showing up here for meals. To be entirely honest, he never thought too much about children in those situations back when he was a child. He never would’ve encountered someone at his schools without enough to eat. He never even had to cook a meal for himself before adulthood. Even now, he rarely does. He doesn’t do this sort of thing often enough, and the amount on the check is largely a product of that guilt, if he’s honest. It’s a lovely thing, though, to have as a part of the hunt. 

Izzy accepts their next clue and stamp, and then they slip out as the kind employee, a man Stede recognizes from brunch the other day, begins sorting through their donations.

Izzy stops in the hallway, leaning against the wall and stretching out his leg, knee cracking.“Fucking hell,” he mumbles. “Right. Fucking three things left.”

Stede bites his lip, feeling like he really ought to offer to end things now and accept the regular prize so Izzy can go home and rest, but what will he do then? Obsessively check for replies from Edward? Stew in the discomfort of his failure to connect with Ms. Teach? Sit and think about his own mum?

“What’s the next clue?” he asks.

Izzy pulls it out of a pouch, handing it to Stede. He sets a hand on Stede’s shoulder to steady himself as he lifts his leg to adjust his shoe, and when Stede breathes in,  he smells Izzy’s cologne. When he looks up he can make out details on Izzy’s face that he hasn’t looked at, the stubble growing back along his chin, the prominence of his cheekbones, the slight chapped look to his lips. Izzy clears his throat.

“Well?”

Right. Stede unfolds the card, clearing his throat. “ It isn’t just people needing extra love this time of year ,” he reads. “ Let’s show our four-legged friends some holiday cheer .”

“The shelter,” Izzy says immediately, starting off again, a man on a mission. Stede follows after, wondering if it would even be possible to sort this hunt out without a local. He’s sure even Ed and himself would have struggled. He’s not sure when the last time Ed visited this town was

“So, you get sick of the city, then, is that it?” Izzy asks out of nowhere as they drive downtown again, Stede slowly becoming familiar with the area. “Why you were so eager to fuck off all the way out here?”

Stede sighs. “Oh, I suppose so,” he admits. No business, no father, no picket fence life with Mary and the kids…It feels like there’s very little waiting for him back in the city, aside from Edward. “I guess, part of me thought…well, I shouldn’t say,” he realizes, closing his mouth.

Izzy rolls his eyes. “Oh, go on, what?”

“Oh, it’s silly,” Stede prefaces. “But, I thought that Edward might come back here and enjoy showing me around so much he’d want to stay. The wedding’s in the summer, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in that city,” Stede admits. “I wanted to get somewhere new, I don’t know, start my life over. Do it properly this time.”

“And you think that here’s the place for that?” Izzy asks, and Stede can’t discern his opinion on it from his tone.

“I think so. Maybe?” Stede looks out at the lovely brickwork of the downtown shops, the golden fairy lights, and the bundled up folks walking the pavement. “What do you think?” he asks.

Izzy hesitates. “Ten years ago, I would’ve laughed,” he admits quietly. “But, it’s changed in the last few years or so. It’s a nice place to settle down.”

Stede smiles. “Maybe Edward will see that when he gets here,” he says.

Izzy doesn’t reply to that, quiet as they park on the street beside one of the old brick buildings, labelled an animal shelter by a sign outside. Inside, another one of the people Stede went to brunch with mans the desk, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She lights up when she sees them both enter.

“Hey, Izzy!” she sings.

“Izzy?” someone calls, voice muffled through the door into the back. The door opens and a man with a long white beard, braids at the back of his otherwise bald head, tattoos on his tan skin, and a bright smile lighting up his entire face greets them.

“Izzy! It is you,” he says happily, coming over to wrap Izzy in a hug that’s seemingly neither entirely wanted nor entirely unwanted. “What brings you here?” he asks, looking over at Stede as he sets Izzy down. Izzy retrieves their stamp card from his pocket, waving it, and the excitable man’s eyes crinkle up with a grin again. “The scavenger hunt?”

“Don’t start,” Izzy warns.

“We’re nearly complete!” Stede brags. 

“Sweet! And who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Stede,” Stede introduces, offering out a hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Stede. Call me Fang.” He shakes Stede’s hand firmly and kindly, smiling brightly at him, and Stede thinks back to the brunch he had as well. Are all of the locals here so lovely? 

“He’s Edward’s fiance,” Izzy mentions.

“Ooh, is Ed with you?” Fang looks behind them out the door.

“Uh, no, he gets in later tonight, I’m afraid,” Stede says. Though, he’s received nothing from Edward to imply that he’s getting ready to leave. But, he wouldn’t leave Stede alone here at Christmas, surely. “Did you know Ed as well?”

“Oh yeah, me, Eddie, and Iz go way back,” Fang says with a smile.

“What do we need to do to get our stamp thing?” Izzy asks, cutting to the chase.

Fang grins. “Well, you could adopt one of our pets.”

Stede raises his eyebrows, looking over at Izzy.

“No. What else?”

“A monetary donation—”

Izzy reaches for his wallet.

“Or volunteering.” He brings a hand up to his mouth and whispers to Stede like it’s a secret. “For the kids, we really just let them play with the puppies,” he admits. “But, I’m not afraid to make you pick up poop.”

Stede winces then laughs, and Izzy rolls his eyes, taking out his wallet. “Do you take card, or…”

“Wait, Izzy,” Stede stops, pouting and looking over toward the door. “I mean, could we at least see the puppies?”

Fang grins. “Yeah, boss,” he says to Izzy. “Come say hi!” He walks over, opening the door invitingly and motioning them back.

Stede eagerly slides through the door to find plenty of dogs in kennels on either side of the hall. He coos immediately, going up to the bars to greet each one. Goodness, it’s tempting to adopt. He always wanted a pet of his own growing up, but he was always between boarding schools and home, and then he was travelling too often for business, and then he was married and the pet caretaking would’ve fallen on Mary. Now, though, he could get himself a dog. Though, it’d be much nicer out of the city.

“Perhaps, if we moved somewhere like this, Ed and I could get a dog,” he muses.

“Eddie hates dogs,” Izzy says automatically as the door shuts behind him. He puts his hand up to the bars of a sad-looking basset hound, letting him sniff it.  

Stede frowns. “Does he? He never mentioned it.” Though, he never mentioned Izzy either. Or Fang.

“Did when I knew him,” Izzy says. “And when we lived together.”

Stede’s wondering how one could possibly dislike such sweet creatures when he processes Izzy’s other words, turning away from the adorable puppies to look at him. “Sorry, you lived together?” Stede looks Izzy over again, thinks of his relationship with Ed’s mother, and suddenly, the thought occurs to him. “You and Edward…you weren’t…together?”

“Hm?” Izzy looks over at him, then scoffs. “No,” he says. “No, not really.”

“Not really?” Stede asks, failing to sound unalarmed.

“No, we just—” Izzy sighs frustratedly. “We were never together, Bonnet.”

“Alright,” Stede says, an eyebrow still raised as he wonders what on Earth that means, but Izzy just moves on down the hall, stopping at another whining dog’s kennel to greet them.

“Alrighty, here we are,” Fang sings as he comes through the door again carrying two plastic dividers that he sets up between the doors. “Now,” he asks. “Who would you like to say hello to?”

Stede spends far too long petting and playing with various dogs of all ages while Izzy and Fang catch up. Only half of the conversation interests him, the bits about the various events in town this week, about Izzy’s young queer friends, and a few vague mentions of Edward that Izzy always steers the conversation away from. The rest of their conversation involves names he can’t follow, shelter logistics, politics, and other little things Stede has no thoughts on, but he enjoys listening to them talk, and he finds himself particularly tickled by how Izzy looks when he gets passionate about something and starts to curse with every other word, his voice raising.

Eventually, the dogs are all put up, and Izzy is able to make his donation. Stede gives one as well, making a note to ask Ed about pets when he sees him again. Perhaps he’s changed his mind since Izzy last spoke with him about it.

Fang hands him their second-to-last clue, and Stede looks down at it, rereading it a few times.

To thank your scavenger hunt partner(s) for helping you seek, gift them something that suits them from these lovely boutiques: 

A few shop names are listed beneath the clue. So, he and Izzy have to get each other gifts? 

“Izzy?” Stede asks, holding the door for him to leave the shelter. “What is the best Christmas gift you’ve ever received?”

Izzy eyes him up, then grabs at the clue card still in his hand. “Give me that.” He reads the card and sighs. “Come on, these places are all just down the street.” He leads the way outside, continuing with, “We can just buy anything.”

Stede pouts again. “We haven’t cheated yet,” he argues. 

“Is that cheating?”

“Best Christmas gift,” Stede implores. “Answers. What was it?”

Izzy thinks a moment as he tugs on his gloves. “A sketchbook,” he decides eventually. “My dad gave me his nice leather-bound one when I was nine or so, a year before he took off. It was still mostly empty, and Mum got me a brand new set of pencils to use with it. I had it filled within weeks.”

Stede smiles. He hadn’t had Izzy pegged as an artist. He wonders what he draws. Portraits? Landscapes? Objects? Abstract? For some reason, Izzy strikes him as the type to draw, or have drawn, portraits of others. He wonders what kinds of people might catch Izzy’s eye.

“And yours, then?” Izzy asks, as though the words have been forced out of him and not painlessly.

Stede hums, thinking back. So many gifts. A laptop, he nearly says, so he could get his schoolwork done in the hallway when his dorm mates weren’t letting him focus. A night light so he could stay up past curfew and read, he also nearly says. Though, a reading specific light might’ve been better, which is what he remembers asking for. Then, he remembers it.

“When I was, um, eight, I believe, I was rather into entomology, you know? I still am, honestly, but that whole year it was about all I talked about. So, for Christmas our housekeeper, Miss Martin, got me one of those little bug catching kits. Oh, I had a blast. Until my parents didn’t recognize it and threw it away.” He cringes at the memory.

“So, your best gift was from your housekeeper, and your parents binned it.” Izzy whistles, shaking his head.

“Like yours was much better,” Stede argues.

Izzy hums. He suddenly stops in his tracks and Stede stumbles to the side to avoid bumping into him. “Alright then,” Izzy says. “If you want to do this properly.” He gestures to the shops ahead of them. “You take those two, I’ll take these.” He gestures to the ones beside them. “Meet you back at the tree.” He points down the street to where the town’s tree stands proud and even more ornament-covered.

When Stede looks back, Izzy’s halfway inside one of the busy little boutiques. Stede takes a deep breath in to prepare himself for the small space and crowd, then ducks into the first shop on the right with a set of juggling balls, a marble chess board, and an antique mannequin in the window.

He smiles politely at the other shoppers and lets his eyes scan the aisles. Izzy. What would Izzy like? Who is Izzy? He flashes back to the first glimpse he got of the man, shirtless and sweaty even in the cold air, muscles flexing, stomach and pecs jiggling. A shopper pushes their way past him, and Stede shakes off the mental image. Izzy was doing a favor for Ms. Teach. He’s loyal, then, taking care of Ms. Teach despite his falling out with her son. Despite his initial grumpiness, he seems surprisingly personable with plenty of people around town. He’s sarcastic, but also serious. He’s a little judgemental, but kind beneath it all, it would seem. He’s putting up with Stede’s company despite his falling out with Edward, just to please Ms. Teach and to support the small town. 

As he describes the man to himself he finds himself feeling rather fond. What on earth could have driven him and Edward apart? The two of them working together makes sense when he thinks about it. Izzy as the more down-to-Earth anchor to Edward’s rather out there ideas, as the cautious objection to his risk-taking. Though, he can see how the task might get old, and how the friction might erode a relationship.

Or doesn’t take long before he finds something that he thinks Izzy will like. Or at least he hopes.

He’s given their last clue and congratulated on making it this far by the shop cashier, who also raves to him about what help the hunt has been for business, which Stede finds rather charming. While Izzy will apparently receive their last stamp at his shop, Stede still elects not to read their last clue until they’ve both finished the task.  

When he gets to the tree, Izzy isn’t there. He decides to grab them both mulled wines from the truck nearby, enjoying the ambience. The sun has already set, and the lights lining the walls, flower beds, and rooftops have been turned on. A light snow has started to fall again, and Christmas music plays over speakers across the town square. The Christmas tree is lit up bright, and it’s absolutely lovely. Cozier than the big displays in the city and just as marvelous. He wishes Edward were here to enjoy it with him. Maybe they can come around here tomorrow night together before the parade.

When he checks his phone again his message asking Edward when he plans to leave is still unopened. His heart sinks. He would need to be leaving by now to have any hope of getting in tonight…

He looks at the tree again and spots Izzy, hurrying over with both drinks and his shopping bag in hand. Izzy carries a shopping bag himself. He’s examining their ornament from where he stands beneath it when Stede comes over, so Stede clears his throat and offers out one of the cups of wine. “Mulled wine?”

“Thanks,” Izzy says, sounding surprised as he accepts the drink. “Good to go?”

“Yes! I’ve got our last clue right here,” he says, producing it from within his pocket. “Wait,” he pauses. “Shall we exchange gifts first?” He feels his face heat up, suddenly nervous about his choice. “Or should we wait for Christmas?” he rushedly asks, thinking perhaps he’d prefer not to have to watch.

Izzy offers him his shop bag. “I don’t care.”

Stede takes the bag, handing Izzy his in return. He goes to open it, then hesitates as Izzy reaches for the paper in his. “Let’s wait until Christmas,” he decides.

Izzy snorts softly, and Stede barely catches the fond seeming smirk before Izzy wipes it from his face. “Fine, yeah. What’s the clue, then?”

Stede unfolds it. “Santa lives way up in the cold, the North Pole to be precise. Lace up your skates and give him a visit down our path of ice .”

Izzy sighs. “That’ll be the skate path they set up down the block a bit.”

“Oh! How fun,” Stede says, then hesitates. “Erm–can you skate? I mean are you…” He looks between Izzy’s leg and his cane. “Able?”

Izzy takes a long drink of his wine before he replies. “Yeah, Bonnet, I can skate. Can’t promise I’ll be any good at it, but…”

“Oh, me either,” Stede says, biting his lip. “I have a horrible sense of balance. I suppose it’s good that it’s a trail, then? I mean that implies railings, doesn’t it? Or at least walls.” He sips his own wine.

Izzy shrugs. “You want to go now?” he winces as he asks it, and Stede frowns. 

“Only if you’re up for it,” he says. “It’s been quite the day already. Quite the week, already, really.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Izzy offers.

“Ed should be in by then,” Stede says, though he isn’t sure now. “But, I’m sure he won’t mind,” he adds. 

“Right,” Izzy says, seeming to wilt a bit. “You two can do it, then, if you want.”

“Nonsense,” Stede says. “You’ve been my partner throughout.”

“I told you, I don’t think Edward wants to see me again.”

Stede shrugs. “I could ask him myself,” he offers, checking his phone once again. “If he ever replies to any of my messages.”

“It’s fine,” Izzy says dismissively. “As long as his mum’s happy.”

“It’s kind of you to care for her,” Stede mentions. “I know Ed worries about her.”

Izzy makes some sort of affirmative noise before draining the last of his wine. Stede’s still sipping on his with half a glass left. Izzy checks his phone, looking at the time.

“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” Stede asks.

“I was going to stop by my bar, do inventory before we close for the holidays. It only takes about an hour,” he says.

“Ooh,” Stede says. “Where’s your bar?”

Izzy’s bar is just a few blocks away. It’s a gorgeous brick building that matches the rest of the downtown area with a neon open sign in the window, golden fairy lights lining the roof, and a gorgeous dark oak bar inside.

It’s busy. Almost every booth and seat at the bar is filled and several people stand around chatting. Two of the other day’s brunch guests man the bar. Stede is pretty sure they’re called Jim and Frenchie, but he barely gets to say hello before they’re taking more customers’ orders. He follows Izzy back into the store rooms, glad when the noise is shut out when the door closes behind them.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you back?” Izzy asks, grabbing an ipad off the wall.

Stede takes a seat on a nearby barrel. “I’m happy to keep you company,” he says.

Jim brings them both drinks a while later, and it only takes a few sips for Stede to realize it’s rather strong. By the time he finishes his, he has quite the buzz going. 

Izzy moves about boxes as he inputs the inventory, having shed his coat. His muscles bulge beneath the tight sleeves of his button up. Stede checks his phone one more time, firing off a final “?” to Ed before locking it and setting it aside. He sighs loudly, but Izzy merely continues on with his work, so Stede does it again.

Izzy turns toward him this time, though he says nothing.

“I don’t think Edward is making it in tonight,” Stede says.

“What, did he say?”

Stede checks his phone one more time.

“His last reply was at... eleven o’clock. Last night.”

Izzy sucks his teeth. “Yeah, he’s standing you up.”

Stede frowns. “Ms. Teach says he’s always here come Christmas.”

“I’m sure he'll be here Christmas Day, somehow,” Izzy grumbles, turning back to his work.

Stede drains the last of his drink and sets his phone aside. He stumbles over to where Izzy looks through a box of olives and peers over his shoulder.

“Is it much work, then?” he asks, burping.

“What, to run a bar?” Izzy gives him a look. “Yeah, it’s a lot of work.”

“How much do you make, at it?”

“Not enough,” Izzy says. “I’ve been operating at a loss since I started. Worse now, that I hired Jimenez’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“But, I do love it. People around here need somewhere to drink, so... Practically a queer bar at this point.” He finishes off the rest of his drink, smirking to himself. “My mum would hate that, me bringing my queer shit back to this town.”

Stede hums. “Her loss,” he says, meaning it. It’s likely the alcohol that has him continue with, “In hindsight, I think my mother knew I was…of a different persuasion. It was just one of those things they ignored. But, I ignored it too, for forty years.”

Izzy looks up again at that, cocking his head. “Hold on, is Edward the first man you’ve been with?” The expression on his face is comically loaded with emotions: horror, amusement, judgement, concern, and understanding all at once.

“Yes,” Stede answers.

“How long have you been together?” Izzy has looked up from his inventory to stare at Stede in disbelief.

“Nearly six months now!”

“And you’re engaged?” Izzy asks dryly.

Stede frowns. It was all so romantic the night Edward proposed beneath the light of the full moon. Yes, Stede is fresh out of his divorce. Yes, he doesn’t know every detail of Edward’s past. But, they both needed something— someone —new. Ed Makes him happy. He’s fairly sure he makes Ed happy, too. Although, not happy enough to show up, it seems.

Izzy clears his throat and hands Stede his empty glass. He checks the time on his phone. “I’ll be closing up soon,” he says. Early, for the holidays, Stede supposes. “Take these back to Jimenez and bring me a whiskey, yeah?”

It's much less busy when Stede comes out into the bar this time. A few people sit at the bar, and a few groups linger at their tables, but Jim and Frenchie seem mostly busy with cleanup. He waits patiently for them to notice him before asking for two more drinks.

“So,” he asks as they mix his drink. “Any Christmas Eve plans?”

Jim smiles politely. “Uh, probably just a chill day in with my partners,” they say. “You?” They slide his drink across the bar.

Partners, plural. Now, that’s an interesting thought. It sounds lovely, really. Not just one but multiple partners to spend the holidays with. “Oh, whatever Edward and his mother usually do, I suppose. Izzy and I have plans to ice skate, I believe, Oh! And I hope to attend the parade.”

Jim smiles. “Yeah? I hope you have a good time.” They slide Izzy’s whiskey across the bar.

By the time his next drink is gone, Jim and Frenchie have left, and Stede finds himself rather upset with Edward. Here he is on the night before Christmas Eve, in Edwards hometown with Edward nowhere to be seen, instead spending his evening in an empty, unfamiliar bar as it closes. 

“Izzy?” he asks, sitting at the bar as Izzy does something or the other with the register.

“Hm?”

“When did you know you were gay?” he asks, drinking the last few droplets of his drink and rocking slightly on the uneven barstool he sits on.

If it’s inappropriate for him to ask, Izzy doesn’t seem to mind. “Always knew, really,” he answers distractedly. “Never even tried to get with girls.”

“I should have known, really,” Stede says, pushing his empty glass across the bar. “My wife—ex wife—was the only woman I ever dated.” He winces. “And my father set us up.”

“So—” Izzy closes the register, looking over at him. “You’ve been closeted forty years and you’re engaged to the first bloke and second person you’ve ever dated, have I got that right?”

Stede frowns. “Have you ever been married?”

“No,” Izzy says quietly, looking away again. Then, “I’m…not the marriage type.” He takes Stede’s glass. “You want another drink?”

Stede lets Izzy make him another strong drink before finishing up his closing tasks. “You’ve never thought about settling down?” he asks.

“Not really,” Izzy slides Stede his drink. At a certain point as he sips on it, he finds himself just watching Izzy as he works, lost in thoughts of Edward, Izzy, and marriage. Stede has rather enjoyed Izzy’s company over the last few days. He doesn’t find it difficult to imagine Izzy and Edward together. In fact, they seem like they would look just right beside each other. 

Izzy looks just right as is, illuminated in the soft glow of neon signs and yellow lights. Izzy is here. Edward isn’t. 

“So, why’d you stop working for him?” Stede asks. “Edward, that is.”

Izzy fixes him with a strange look. “You ask a lot of fucking questions. Anyone ever told you that?”

“Yes, actually,” Stede says, sipping on his drink.

Izzy sucks his teeth, quiet for a moment while Stede’s eyes get stuck on his jaw and the stubble growing there. “Just got fed up with it, I suppose,” he decides, looking down at the bar. “I could put up with the disorganization, with the spontaneity, with how fucking fast Ed always moved, but when he started to lose interest entirely, I wasn’t going to stay the only one keeping things running.”

Fair enough, Stede supposes. When he met Ed he did seem rather dissatisfied and disinterested, but the last week or so have made it seem like the business is all Ed cares about. 

When did it get to be night? The clock behind Izzy shows that it’s just after 9 o’clock. It somehow feels both earlier and much later at once. Maybe Edward’s had a free moment to answer his messages. Stede goes back into the backroom to retrieve his phone, heart skipping a beat when he sees Ed’s name on the screen.

Sorry, love, shit w work has been… Stede’s eyes gloss over as he reads the message promising that Ed will be in before Christmas. Stede sets his jaw and puts his phone on silent before he returns to his seat at the bar to find Izzy nursing another glass of whiskey. Stede slides onto the stool across him, feeling only less and less sober himself with each passing moment. 

“You probably think I’m making a huge mistake then,” Stede says a bit loudly. It’s only Izzy and himself in the bar now, and Stede has stopped paying attention to what exactly Izzy is doing, only really able to focus on his collar and the hair of his chest where it peeks out, his button-up slipping open as he reaches across the bar.  

He’s attractive. He is really, really quite attractive.

“What’s it matter what I think?” Izzy answers.

“So that’s a yes,” Stede says.

Izzy shrugs. “Yes.” He takes another sip of his drink.

“Hm.” Perhaps he is. Maybe he and Ed won’t actually last. Maybe this trip is just a taste of what he has to look forward to in their marriage: distance, avoidance, unreliability. He looks at his glass. Perhaps he’s had too much to drink.

Izzy sighs, leaning against the bar. “You really want to know what I think?”

Stede wonders if he does. The way Izzy’s friends reacted to Edward’s name…They must’ve had quite the falling out. He swallows. “Go on, then.”

“I think I know Edward,” Izzy says, meeting his gaze, “—and this is what he does. He gets really into something for a bit, then he avoids it until it goes away. Doesn’t care who he hurts when he does,” he adds bitterly, and Stede feels a pang of defensiveness.

“Maybe when you knew him,” he says.

Izzy scoffs. “Hasn’t changed in twenty years, you think he will now?”

Stede watches as Izzy finishes his drink, his insides twisting themselves into a knot as he ponders the possibility. 

Izzy sits up then, cracking his neck and yawning loudly. “Fucking Christ, I’m fucking knackered,” Izzy says, leaning over the bar. “You want a ride back to Ed’s mum’s?”

Stede, suddenly hit with the reality of Ed not arriving tonight and spending the night with his disappointed mother, as his probably-a-mistake fiancè, wilts. What else would he do? Will any other bars be open tonight? Oh, but that’s a sad thought: sitting in a bar just before Christmas, Edward alone at home, Ms. Teach alone waiting for him, and Stede…here for no particular reason at all, it seems, except to support a town that Stede’s beginning to think Edward has no real desire to return to. Why wax poetic about spending the holidays here just to bail on their plans? The situation at work can’t be that pressing. Things seemed just fine a few weeks ago. If Edwad truly wanted to be here, he’d make it work, wouldn’t he? Maybe he didn’t actually want Stede here, meeting his mum, running into childhood friends. Maybe he is already having second thoughts about their engagement, already planning to break things off.

Ugh , if he goes back to Edward’s childhood home, all he’ll do is mope and think about Edward.

“Is your place close?” Stede asks. “I mean, neither of us should be driving, I don’t think.”

The look Izzy gives him is annoying. What’s more annoying is how appealing his face is to look at. Stede can’t seem to look away.

“You, definitely not,” Izzy agrees. “I’ll be fine. My place is just a few blocks from here.”

“We could just walk, then,” Stede offers.

“Are you inviting yourself to my flat?”

“Potentially?”

Izzy fixes him with another one of his unreadable looks. Or perhaps Stede is just not very good at reading expressions. He looks back, forcing the eye contact that he normally avoids and finding himself taken with the hazel color of Izzy’s eyes.

“Fine,” Izzy decides, looking away, and Stede grins.

Stede finds himself talking too much on the walk over. He brings up his children, his ex-wife, her new husband, his and Edward’s new rental in the city, his old job, his recent uncertainty regarding what exactly he wants to do with himself and his life. Izzy provides sarcastic quips intermixed with genuine bits of advice delivered bluntly and at a certain point Stede has the realization that Izzy must like him, at least a bit. Why else would he be putting up with this?

Stede notices Izzy’s leaning on his cane a lot more by the time they stop outside of an old brick apartment building. Stede nearly slips up and asks Izzy about how he got the leg, before he remembers that’s not quite appropriate to ask someone you’ve just met. Three days spent chatting isn’t much time at all, in the scheme of things. He does feel like he knows Izzy, though, for some reason. 

Izzy buzzes them into the flat, and Stede follows him to the elevator, gazing drunkenly at the image of the two of them reflected in the mirrored walls. They look good together, he thinks.

Izzy’s flat is expectedly fairly bare. There’s a couch, a TV, a small dining table, and a bookshelf filled with books, CDs, and DVDs, in the living room. Stede hangs his coat on a hook by the door and takes a seat on the couch, his head spinning just a bit. Izzy sets his gift from Stede on the table, and Stede realizes there’s no tree up for it to go under. Izzy brings him a glass of water, then heads down the hall, and Stede’s fuzzy mind can’t quite follow which door he disappears behind, so he turns his attention to Izzy’s DVD collection.

Izzy leaves Bonnet in his living room with a glass of water, stepping into his bathroom and letting out a long sigh. He really is bloody fucking exhausted, and his leg’s starting to get to him. He’s relieved to take the pressure off of it as he takes off the prosthesis, even as his other knee creaks with the effort of supporting his full weight. Fucking stupid to agree to this hunt. Who can even manage to do all this? The holidays are already unbearably busy for most.

He goes about his usual routine, cleaning up, sorting his leg, turning the heating on, and changing out of his day clothes. When he returns to the living room on his crutches, Stede, still rather disheveled looking himself, is carefully examining his bookshelf. He’d been looking forward to the night spent by himself unwinding, but he finds himself glad not to return to an empty living room.  

Izzy comes up behind him, peeking over his shoulder. 

“Well?”

Stede jumps slightly. “I think you have good taste,” he says,  recovering quickly. “Though, a lot of war movies.” He frowns. 

Izzy snorts. “Thanks.” He takes a seat on the couch, sighing as he relaxes. He was half expecting to be antsy with Bonnet in his space. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he finds himself glad for the company. Or maybe he’s just gotten used to it after spending so many hours with this twat.

Stede sits down on the couch beside him. “Thank you for letting me stay over, Izzy,” he says.

Izzy braces himself before looking over to meet his intent gaze. He’s sure he’s not nearly as drunk as Bonnet, but his own head is pleasantly fuzzy, and thoughts that would otherwise pass quickly linger at the front of his mind. He has no real doubts about the engagement falling apart. Ed’s done this a time or two before, found a guy, roleplayed going the distance, but he never really does. Though, this man is nothing like anyone Edward’s ever been with before: bright eyed, invested in Ed’s past, eager to make things work. Izzy feels bad for him.

When he looks over, Stede’s face is just inches from his own. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are still tinged pink from the cold outside, and Izzy finds his eyes lingering on the wrinkles in his skin, the curve of his nose, his lips where they turn up slightly with an odd, fond expression. 

“What?” Izzy asks.

Stede shrugs. “I don’t know. Thank you for doing this all with me, as well,” he says. “It was quite kind of you.”

Izzy scoffs. “I told you, I owe Ms. Teach a lot.”

“I know,” Stede says. “But, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. You’ve made it quite a lovely holiday for me, despite…well, you know.”

Izzy’s stomach squirms at that, but it’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling. He’s still getting used to being told he improves anyone’s day, though it happens more often lately. Moving out here must be turning him fucking soft or something. As he thinks about it, he realizes Stede’s company has improved his holiday so far as well. He usually doesn’t do much at all to celebrate, but it’s been nice to be out and about in the festive little town, and he’s not used to anyone wanting his company for so long.

“Izzy?” Stede asks, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Hm?” Izzy resists the urge to look away. 

“It… would be incredibly stupid of me to attempt to kiss you, wouldn’t it?” he asks, wide eyes almost seeming to plead with him. 

Yes , Izzy’s mind immediately supplies, for one fucking million reasons , but the words die on his tongue. He looks down at Stede’s mouth, then meets his eyes again. He leans in. 

Stede’s comically wide eyes are the last thing Izzy sees before he closes his, and their lips meet. He brings a hand up to cup Stede’s jaw, and Stede relaxes. Stede’s hand moves to his knee, and fuck—fuck, it’s been a while since anyone’s touched Izzy for more than a quick hug or a handshake. Every nerve is alight and desperate for more. He scoots closer and opens his mouth, surprised when Stede takes full advantage and deepens their kiss, pressing forward. Izzy falls backward, and Stede climbs over him, continuing to kiss him like he’s desperate for it.

“Fucking hell,” Izzy breathes when Stede finally pulls back.

Stede’s eyes go a bit wide. “Oh, I’m sorry, is that—”

He starts to move away, but Izzy threads his fingers through Stede’s hair and pulls him down to meet his lips again, effectively shutting him up. Stede’s back to eagerly kissing him, like it’s been ages for him too. With his other hand, Izzy guides Stede’s to the hem of his shirt, and Stede hikes it up. Izzy squirm at his cold fingers as Steds glides his hand over the soft, hair-smattered chub of Izzy’s stomach, and up to cup at a bulging pec. Stede presses a cold finger tip against his nipple, and Izzy shivers, gasping into Stede’s mouth.

Stede pulls back, breathless, and Izzy takes the moment to tug his shirt off over his head. Stede gazes down at him hungrily, biting his lip. “Goodness, you’re attractive,” he says.

Izzy grins, wrapping his legs around Stede. “Yeah?” Fuck, this shouldn’t feel as good as it does, Edward’s fiancé between his legs, looking at him like that. 

Stede hums affirmatively, taking Izzy’s hand and extending his arm so he can kiss a trail down it, over his shoulder, his collar, and up his neck. He rolls his hips forward and Izzy can feel his bulge in his trousers.

Lips by Stede’s ear, he murmurs, “You want to fuck me?”

Stede makes a needy sound, rocking his hips forward. “I do,” he admits.

Izzy kisses him again. “Come on, then,” he says when he pulls back, lifting his hips into Bonnet’s and clenching his thighs at the friction.

“I shouldn’t,” Stede says, face still buried in Izzy’s neck, hips still moving forward.

Izzy hums in agreement, but he doesn’t find himself particularly compelled to advocate on Ed’s behalf. He bites his lip, looking Stede over, flushed and beautiful, and he slowly sits up, Stede moving out of his way. He slides his own hand over Stede’s thigh and squeezes before he stands.

“I’m going to my bedroom,” he says, simply. He meets Stede’s eyes and bites his lip. “You can join me, if you want.” 

With that, he returns to his room. When he closes the door behind himself, he breathes out a shaky breath, suddenly hit with a wave of discomfort. Fuck. That was fucking stupid. Stede doesn’t want him. He’s just looking for a distraction from Ed. Izzy could’ve been that, done something quick and dirty on the couch and left Bonnet to pass out and forget about it tomorrow. But, Stede’s not going to follow him back here, not going to chase after Izzy if given a second chance not to cheat. Izzy’s a drunken mistake made in the moment, not someone to choose over anyone else.

He falls back onto his bed and sighs, dragging his hands over his face and kicking himself for missing out on what might’ve been a good hook up. Then, there are three taps on the door, and it opens. Stede steps into his room, hungry eyes all but devouring him. When he meets Izzy’s gaze, Izzy gives an inviting nod, and Stede all but pounces onto the bed.

He crashes into Izzy, whose body lights up in response, anxiety and pleasure dancing together beneath his skin as Stede finds his rhythm again, eagerly capturing his lips in another needy kiss. His hands glide over Izzy’s skin, clutching greedily at the softest parts of him. Izzy nearly moans at just the feeling of Stede’s hands on his bare skin. It really has been ages. He’s had the chance, now and again, but he always found himself backing out, excusing himself. Figures he finally wants the man he shouldn’t. Story of his fucking life. 

Stede’s lips leave a sloppy trail of kisses down his jaw and neck, and Izzy’s briefly annoyed by the cool air against his skin before he’s too distracted by Stede’s lips moving down and finding his nipple. Not fucking shy then, is he? He licks over it, and Izzy relaxes back against the bed, enjoying the attention. Stede switches to his other side, bringing his fingers up to squeeze and tug at his nipple. Izzy threads his fingers through Stede’s curls, gasping when he bites down lightly around the one in his mouth. He’s used to rough, fast, and blissfully painful, but this is a nice change of pace. Still, he’ll need more.

He wraps his legs around Stede reaching down to touch his cock where it bulges against his trousers. He tugs Stede up by the hair. “Lube’s in the bathroom. Fetch it for me, yeah?”

In minutes, he has Stede’s soft, slender, fingers sinking into his hole, Izzy’s head thrown back and his eyes closed as he bathes in the sensation. Stede gets distracted from his task of opening Izzy up, stopping to kiss and nip at the skin of his chest, the pudge of his stomach and thighs, and the area around his achingly hard cock teasingly, but Izzy lets him take his time. There’s something euphoric about the touches and attention, about Stede giving them to him for the simple pleasure of it. He was expecting a quick stretch and then a fuck desperate with drunkenness and regret. But, Stede is savoring this.

Stede’s focus returns to the fingers up Izzy’s arse, and he presses the pads of them against his walls searchingly. He finds that special spot and eagerly begins to rub at it the moment Izzy lets out a small, pleased noise. When Izzy opens his eyes, Stede’s taking him in with an inexplicably soft look on his face.

“Fuck. Come on then,” Izzy urges impatiently, looking away and pulling himself up toward the headboard. Stede’s fingers slip out of him, and he finds Izzy’s lips with his own again. Izzy’s not used to so much kissing, but he doesn’t find he minds it. Stede is a good kisser. He tries not to think about likely only being the second man that Stede has kissed, or about him likely having the most practice at it with fucking Edward. 

It’s surprisingly easy to let the thought go when Stede shoves his trousers down and off, shedding his shirt at the same time. Izzy seizes his own chance to look Stede over. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered, even imagined, what Stede must look like beneath all his fancy winter layers. His eyes pass over sun-kissed freckled skin, over light smatterings of body hair here and there, over the bit of fat on his chest and around his stomach, and down to where he bulges rather clearly against his pants. Izzy’s mouth fucking waters at the sight. If it’s been a while since he’s taken any cock, it’s been fucking ages since he’s taken one as thick and long as that.

Stede shoves his pants down as well, covering his cock in a generous amount of lube and positioning himself between Izzy’s legs. Izzy briefly wonders if he should stop him, go get his aid so he can ride Stede, taking him as deep as he likes and keeping him where Izzy needs him, but he can’t be arsed to stop him now.

Stede sinks inside slowly, hunching over Izzy and breathing out shakily against his neck. He moans softly, nosing at Izzy’s skin. “Izzy, you feel incredible,” he breathes.

“Fuck me,” Izzy answers, his own lips beside Stede’s ear.

Stede excitedly obeys, moving experimentally inside of him. It takes a moment before the pleasure kicks in, but the overwhelming fullness already has Izzy leaking cum from the tip of his cock. When Stede starts properly thrusting, brushing Izzy’s prostate with every slide deep inside, it’s all Izzy can do to moan, gasp, and claw at Stede’s shoulders and back. Stede seems to lose himself in it, moaning against Izzy’s neck as he humps him animalistically, half-whining half-groaning Izzy’s name when Izzy clenches down around him.

Izzy slides his fingers through Stede’s hair, tugging at the curls and holding him close as he picks up his pace, fucking into Izzy almost frantically. The headboard slams against the wall with their movements, and the slapping of Stede’s balls against his arse rings out lewdly into the room. The light of the corner lamp illuminates them well enough, and Izzy looks down between his legs at Stede’s thick cock where it disappears into his hole, moaning at the sight of it. 

Izzy reaches down to take a hold of his own cock, squeezing it as he watches himself get fucked. Stede’s ring-clad hands grip his thighs, and Izzy’s eye catches on Stede’s ring finger, and on the silver band there. Somehow, another jolt of pleasure hits him and he has to squeeze his cock to keep from coming. Does Stede fuck Ed this good? Fuck Ed. Ed could be here, getting fucked by his fiance’s apparently magical fucking cock, but Izzy is instead. For once, Izzy gets to take something from Ed . Guilt twists in his gut at the thought just as Stede changes his angle, slamming home right against his prostate, and he can’t stop himself from coming hard , working himself through it with a hand as stars fill his vision leaving him for a few blissful seconds with nothing in his mind but the tingling pleasure and the sensation of Stede’s cock moving inside of him.

Stede slows as Izzy’s convulsions stop, but he lifts his lips and tightens his legs around Stede. “Come on, won’t fucking break,” he requests, and so Stede picks up the pace again. Overstimulated aftershocks come in wave after wave as a pleasant sort of too much, and before he knows it, Stede is pulling himself out and taking himself in hand. Part of Izzy wishes he’d stayed inside, but he takes the chance to watch as Stede brings himself off, face freezing in pleasure as he shoots his load onto Izzy’s sheets.

Izzy uses the dirtied sheet to clean the cum off his own stomach and then shoves it off the bed to deal with later. Stede all but collapses on top of him before rolling onto his side and humming, face still pressed against Izzy’s neck. He yawns. “Thank you, Izzy,” he murmurs as he does. “That was lovely.”

Izzy scoffs softly at the idea of thanking a hook-up, and at the descriptor ‘lovely.’ It’s not very late, but he’s fucking exhausted. He gets the sense that his drunken bedmate is as well. So he lets the thought go and pets Stede’s hair back, letting the fuzziness of sleep and booze spread across his mind. “Good night, Stede.”

“Mm,” Stede answers. “Goodnight.”

Chapter Text

Izzy wakes up with quite a bit more than half the bed taken up by Stede, who is splayed out on his stomach with one arm beneath his head and another thrown over Izzy. Izzy removes the arm across his chest and sits up over the side, stretching and assessing how he feels. He feels well-rested, and a glance at the clock on the bedside shows that they not only drunkenly fell asleep rather early all things considered, but Izzy also managed to sleep in past the early hour his body routinely wakes him at. 

Despite their sledding incident, he’s hardly sore at all today. Yesterday, his arse and right side bothered him for a bit, but by the evening the pain had all but disappeared. He’s sure he’ll be in a worse state after skating today, though. Part of him thinks he’ll do fine, might show Bonnet up, even. He was good enough when he was a kid. But, he’s never been skating on his new leg, despite it being a nearly decade old injury. He’s been hiking, running, and fencing, but not skating.

There’s a pleasant sort of ache between his legs as well, a souvenir from what was a surprisingly good fuck. His morning wood twitches with interest as flashes of the night before fill his mind, the memory of Stede still fresh enough to feel. Stede stretches out into the rest of his space once it’s free, and Izzy takes a moment to look at him, fast asleep with his hair a mess and drool leaking out from the side of his mouth.

Fucking hell, but Izzy feels fond at the sight of him asleep in his bed. It’s been a nice few days. Unbidden thoughts arise of Stede’s fantasy about moving back here with Edward, getting a dog, and starting a quiet little life together. Edward’s not the type for a quiet life. He spent all his time in this town trying to get out of it. Izzy, though…The longer he spends here, the nicer the quiet little life feels.

It might be nicer with a partner. With someone to warm his bed every once and a while, and to go out with. But, Ed will be here by tomorrow, Izzy will spend the holiday alone, and Stede will go back to the city whether they patch things up or not. It’s just a fantasy. 

He’s been up for a while by the time Stede stumbles out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Izzy puts the coffee pot back on, and he looks at the boutique gift bag on the table, curious as to what sort of knick knack Bonnet got him. Their nearly full stamp card sits on the table beside it. Izzy replays the events of last night in his head, and he finds himself imagining what it might’ve been like if they spent more time together.

“Do you have a phone charger?” Stede asks when he comes into the kitchen, looking a bit more put together but still endearingly messy in comparison to the highly maintained appearance Izzy assumes is his normal look.

“There’s one by the bed,” Izzy mentions.

“Is that your only one? I don’t know a single person that still uses an android charger.”

Izzy scoffs. “Yeah, it’s my only one.”

Stede hums, uselessly clicking the lock button on his apparently dead phone a few times before pocketing it and taking a seat across from Izzy at the table, smiling dopily at him. Izzy looks away, a bit overwhelmed by the look, and goes to pour a cup of coffee for Stede.

“Thank you!” he says brightly as Izzy brings it over.

When he places the mug on the table, Izzy’s gaze lands back on the stamp sheet, eyes catching on a bit of small text near the bottom. “Hold on,” Izzy says, picking up the card and squinting down at it.

Stede’s smile falls.

“We only had to do fucking four?” He looks up from the card. “Did you know that?”

Stede raises an eyebrow, but the blush on his cheeks betrays him. “Hm?” He takes the card from Izzy, pretending to look it over. “Oh. Odd.”

Izzy scoffs again. “So you’re saying I can just stay here and finally rest my fucking leg, yeah?”

Stede pouts. “Well, we only have one left,” he whines, and Izzy takes a moment to process the fact that half this hunt has been unnecessary. Stede looks back at him, his pretend, mildly-surprised expression melting away into fond amusement as he looks back at Izzy. “What?”

“Did you actually fuckin’ know the whole time and you’ve just been following me about anyway?” The sheepish look on Stede’s face makes it hard for Izzy to keep from smiling as he tries to appear annoyed.

“Well, I only just realized before the food drive, and we were already out and about anyway…”

Izzy shakes his head in bewildered amusement.

“Oh, you will do the last one with me, won’t you? We can win the grand prize.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Well, I thought you might know.”

Izzy snorts, looking over the flyer again. He sighs softly. “I suppose we’ll find out, then,” he says, and Bonnet beams.

Izzy expected the place to be crowded, but it’s not bad at all, really, which is for the best. He expected dozens of spry and practiced kids zooming past as he made his first attempt at skating in over a decade, so he’s relieved to have less people to potentially hold up. The trail spans about half of their public park, going over a wooden bridge, through a garden trail, and past the gazebo on the side of the pond. Themed after the North Pole and Santa’s workshop, it looks like something out of a movie. Everything is covered in decorations, different areas themed to different parts of winter and the holidays. The park is covered in the shadows of the large trees all around it, and fairy lights line the walls and the sides of the trails. There are kids running about here and there to get their skates, but the majority of people here seem to be adults. Izzy looks out over the trail, watching as couples and friends laugh and glide across the ice.

Stede spots the scavenger hunt sign just beside the shoe rentals, and he excitedly leads them over. Izzy could easily get out of this one, really. He could just show off his leg and take the stamp for hauling himself over here, but they’ve done everything on the hunt so far, superfluous social media posting included, so it’d feel a bit anticlimactic to give up right at the end. Besides, Izzy remembers quite liking skating as a kid. 

Honestly, Bonnet’s got him remembering quite a lot of what he liked about this town back when he was growing up. There were moments, among the mess and the struggling and the scraping by, when all he felt was joy, when his freedom felt entirely exciting, and when the little downtown streets felt like a playground for himself and his friends. He’s felt that way again this week, during a few wonderful, fleeting moments. 

Izzy is offered a skating helper, which appears to be a large plastic blue walker to push along as you skate, and he nearly declines it, but he decides it might be better to have in case, despite the attention-drawing nature of it. In no time at all, he and Bonnet are laced up and headed for the ice. They’re the only ones starting the path, and the next people seem to be quite a bit ahead already, so Izzy focuses on keeping his balance as he steps out onto the ice. He finds it surprisingly easy on the prosthetic, it’s the ankle on his other foot bending that nearly causes him to fall before he steadies himself with the helper.

Stede has the same issue, and Izzy snorts as he grips onto the rail on the wall, attempting to get his footing on the ice. Izzy manages to balance himself, experimentally adjusting the weight he puts on his prosthesis as he glides along. Pretty quickly, he starts to get the hang of it. Bonnet, however, doesn’t seem to be having as much luck.

Izzy looks over just as his skates slip out from under him, and he catches himself on the wall with a high pitched yelp, nearly falling backwards. Izzy can’t help but let out a bark of a laugh at the sight with how ridiculous and slapstick it is. Stede pouts as he rights himself.

“ You’ve done this before,” he complains.

“Aged fucking fourteen,” Izzy answers. “And with two legs.”

“Yes, alright, quit bragging,” Stede says, and Izzy furrows his brow. 

Stede attempts to skate over to him, but his skates once again fly out from beneath him. Izzy surges forward, and Stede is able to catch himself on the other side of his skater helper, looking around for any witnesses as he tugs himself to his feet and Izzy laughs. “This is rather difficult,” he says, flustered. 

“Think you need this more than I do,” Izzy answers, letting go of the helper and experimentally skating beside it. Keeping his balance isn’t too hard, though the pressure on his residual leg is a bit much in areas he’s not as used to, especially after both such an active week and their sledding tumble. He looks ahead at the length of the course, which winds and turns quite a bit, but isn’t really all that long. He’ll be fine. They don’t have anything else to do today, besides collect their prize, whatever that is. Probably some certificate and a gift card, or something. 

When he turns back, Stede is still struggling to keep his footing, having taken the skate helper for himself. He holds onto it and gives a few strides, sliding to catch up to Izzy. Izzy snorts, watching him skate along.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” he offers, laughing to himself.

“Thank you!” Stede says, beaming, and Izzy laughs again.

“You look fucking ridiculous,” he adds.

Stede pouts, arriving just beside him and sliding off to the side to allow a couple from behind them to pass. He looks down, a genuine flush clear on his already pink cheeks that makes half of Izzy want to reassure him like he’s a child and the other half tease him relentlessly like a child might.

“I’ll bet Edward would be good at this,” Stede mumbles, relinquishing his helper by pushing it forward a few feet. 

Izzy bites his lip. He hasn’t particularly wanted to think about Edward at all for years, but he especially doesn’t want to think about him now, on what’s practically a holiday date with his fiance after a tipsy hook-up. Still, the memories come at the suggestion.

“He’d skate circles around me when we were kids,” Izzy says. Nearly every memory with Ed before age fifteen or so is good. An uncomfortable silence falls over them, then, and Stede steps forward. He makes it a few steps, nearly skating, before he slips again, still too far from the skate helper. Izzy moves forward on instinct, reaching out to steady Stede, who gasps and grabs a hold of his arm. Somehow, Izzy manages to keep his balance while Stede regains his, and they both stay upright, sliding forward on the ice. Stede stands up straight, and Izzy skates ahead to retrieve the helper.

“You’re sticking with this,” Izzy decides, pushing the skate helper back toward Stede.

They make it through the admittedly difficult winding turns of the path that follow, taking them through a lovely garden filled with white and red blooms in bushes dusted with a layer of snow. Another couple passes them from behind, and Izzy watches as they skate ahead on to the gazebo just as another couple leaves it. The couple looks above themselves at a bundle of mistletoe, smiles at one another, and then they kiss. Izzy averts his gaze.

“Okay. Alright. Izzy! I think I’m actually getting the hang of it!” Stede calls, skating past the helper to catch up with Izzy at the next turn. He barrels directly into the wall, but he stops himself without falling.

“Incredible,” Izzy deadpans, skating back for the helper. It is fun, gliding along the ice. The path is cute, but he finds himself wishing he had space to actually gain some speed. He wonders if the regular skate rink the town used to do when he was a kid still opens in the winter.

Stede bravely moves on ahead toward the bridge, skating slowly and taking in the scenery. Izzy watches him, lit up beneath the fairy lights and smiling out at the decorations. He points to a little Christmas-decorated toy boat that floats along the stream beneath the bridge they’re about the cross. “Look at that! That’s darling.”

Izzy snorts softly, briefly marveling at having found himself here. Last year, no one could’ve dragged him out of his flat for the holidays. The holidays were generally filled with nothing but reminders of past regrets, people he’s lost, and the sort of life he never found. But, here he is, finishing this stupid hunt with a man that keeps looking at Izzy like that, like Izzy’s someone worth looking at, worth looking to for a reaction. Eddie would look at him like that when they were younger. His rare undivided attention made Izzy feel like the most fascinating person in the world. Guilt twists in his gut for just a moment, but it’s replaced with fondness for the weirdo on the bridge ahead of him, watching as several more decorated boats float down the stream. He’s not sure what happened, but he can’t remember the last time Edward looked at anything like that, with that twinkle in his eye.

He skates onto the bridge, leaning over the rail beside Stede. Up ahead is the gazebo, and just past it leads into the area themed around Santa’s Workshop, where Santa is supposedly waiting to greet them. Izzy can’t see much past the bushes, trees, and fences. 

Stede sighs from beside him, half melancholy and half dreamy. “I really do appreciate your company, Izzy,” he says. “This is my first Christmas without my wife and children. I rather hoped not to have to spend too much of it alone.”

Izzy knocks his shoulder against Stede’s.

“You know, this would be a rather lovely place for a wedding,” Stede mentions.

Izzy’s not sure what he’s meant to do with that. Everything he knows about Ed tells him he would hate the suggestion. He and Ed used to sneak over here when Ed’s dad was drunk to smoke cigarettes and swing on the swing set until some cop decided to hassle them for being out past curfew. That’s probably the most prominent memory of this place for him. But, somehow, he doesn’t feel like Stede means Edward.

Stede skates on ahead, making a few long strides before clinging to the wall again, and Izzy eyes the mistletoe they’re coming upon where it hangs from the gazebo roof. Stede skates into the gazebo, looking out at the park’s pond. A layer of ice covers just the top, broken in some areas, and the bright winter sunlight bounces off the snow on the field across from it. 

Izzy pushes his helper through the entrance to the gazebo, only  to be stopped on the entrance as Stede skates over, joining him beneath the roof. Izzy glances up at the bunch of mistletoe, heart racing. Last night was one thing, an ill-advised hook-up, but this? Does Stede actually…want him?

When he looks down, Stede captures his lips in a kiss. It’s a nice, soft kiss, and Izzy easily sinks into it as Stede’s gloved hand comes to his hip. When he pulls away, Stede’s looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Izzy’s not sure what the hope is for, and he’s a bit afraid himself to consider it, so he clears his throat and nods to the path ahead of them. “Come on, then,” he says. “Santa’s waiting.”

Stede licks his lips and chuckles. “Yes, right,” he agrees. “And then, our final stamp!”

Izzy follows after him as he half-skates and half-walks along the wall down the path. Tables are set up like a little toy shop, with the toys moving along them in a manufacturing line and wide, dead-eyed smiles on the plastic elves posed as if working on them. Sparkling faux snow covers the area, and Santa’s reindeer are scattered about. Stede takes his time leading Izzy through, stopping to look at the decorations. 

When they finally round the last corner, they come upon Santa’s sleigh, large, decorated, red, and seated at the very end of the path beside the exit, with a man dressed as Santa inside. As Santa turns his head to look at them, Izzy freezes, and Stede gasps.

“What the fuck?”

“Edward!”

Edward, dressed in an ill-fitting Santa suit, slides off of the sleigh and over the fence, his own skates landing on the ice. He skates easily over to them, eyes only on Stede. Izzy can’t help but notice, as he watches in disbelief, that Ed has a familiar odd look on his face. He’s put on a smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach his troubled eyes.

“Hey! Mate, is your phone off? Been running all over looking for you.” He slides an arm around Stede’s waist and tugs him in for a kiss. Izzy averts his gaze, still flabbergasted.

“Merry Christmas,” he hears Ed murmur to Stede, then there’s the wet sound of them kissing again. Izzy feels vaguely sick, moving past them. He makes for the exit, forgetting his skate helper and hurrying off the ice, his heart racing and the collar of his shirt suddenly feeling too tight.

Fucking Christ, he supposes he should’ve expected something like this m. Ed dodging calls and texts just to show up unannounced last-minute is classic in Izzy’s mental bank of known Ed behaviors. He takes a seat on the nearest bench, tearing off his skates. He’s not even sure where he plans to go, but he needs to leave.

Before he can, Ed and Stede follow him off the ice, coming over to where he sits at the bench, tugging his shoes back on. He looks up, and Edward meets his gaze, nodding a hello.

“Hey, Izzy,” he calls easily, infuriatingly. “Here for the holidays?”

“No,” Izzy answers in a vain attempt at matching his casual tone. He looks down at his shoelaces as he ties them. “Got myself a flat downtown, after we sold my mum’s place.” He looks up again, relieved to see his words noticeably take Ed by surprise. 

“Oh.” Ed laughs, though his amusement doesn’t sound genuine. “Never thought you’d come back to this shithole.” He forces a smile.

Izzy smiles back, though it feels more like a sneer, and he’s sure it comes across that way as well. “It’s a nice town,” he says. “Quiet. Cozy. Good people.” He stands from the bench. “Your fiancé’s been enjoying it,” he adds. “Right, Bonnet?”

“Oh, um, yes, it’s been rather lovely,” Stede replies hesitantly. 

Ed gives a tight smile with his lips and hums, squeezing his arm around Stede. “Lovely,” he says lightly, though his eyes betray his true feelings rather clearly, same as they always do. Did.

Izzy takes a moment to look at them, Stede looking at Ed and Ed looking at Izzy. Stede doesn’t seem to be able to read Ed as easily. When he glances over at Izzy, worry is clearly etched into his features, but as he leans into Ed, his eyes are wide, bright, and enamored. 

Izzy swallows, averting his gaze. “I should leave you to it, then,” he mumbles.

“Oh, but we still have to pick up our prize!” Stede says.

Ed frowns, looking between Stede and Izzy. “Prize?”

“Yes! Izzy’s been doing the scavenger hunt with me, since you couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, yeah? Mum said you were doing the hunt.” He looks at Izzy again, expression strange. “Where do you get your prize?”

“They’ll be able to tell us here,” Izzy grumbles, nodding to the skate rentals.” He leaves a bit of distance between them as he follows after, hardly hearing it as Stede is told that they’ve won exclusive front row seats to the downtown Christmas Parade. 

“Oh, isn’t that lovely? You were telling me about the parade, weren’t you?” Izzy hears Stede ask Ed, and, despite his best efforts, he hears Ed’s reply.

“Ah, see? I made it just in time.” In the corner of his eye, Izzy sees it as Ed wraps a giggling Stede in his arms. Setting his jaw, he turns his skates in and goes to leave, clearly no longer needed nor wanted. He makes it outside before he hears Stede calling after him. Izzy ignores him, finding his car and making a beeline for it. Stede runs after him, catching him by the wrist.

“Wait, Izzy,” He says rushedly. “Our, um—well, last night.” He speaks in a hushed tone, “We can just keep that between us, can’t we?” He winces as he asks, and Izzy feels something unpleasant stab at his gut. He glances behind Stede at Ed where he looks down at his phone, leaning against the wall. Ed looks up briefly before averting his gaze again.

Izzy twists out of Stede’s grip. He swallows. “Yeah.” He can still feel Stede on his lips, his hands gliding over Izzy’s bare skin. “Enjoy the parade.”

“Well, they’re your tickets as well,” Stede says. “We could—”

“Just take them. You and Ed have a good fucking Christmas.” 

Before Stede can argue, or react in any other way, Izzy turns around and hurries back to where he parked his car. As he turns the engine on and pulls onto the road, he realizes it’s beginning to snow again. The silence immediately eats at him, so he flips on the radio.

♪ Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day ,♪

He changes the station.

♪ I’ll have a blue Christmas without you ♪

He turns to the next station.

♪ (Baby it's bad out there), Say what's in this drink? (No cabs to be had out there) ♪

He turns to the next one. 

♪ I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know, make my wish come true, baby all I want for Christmas is— ♪

Exasperated, he shuts the radio off, left again with the uncomfortable silence. He’s nearly back  at his empty flat far too soon, so he drives past his last turn. With several main roads closed off for the parade, there’s a bit of traffic downtown. Izzy finds himself replaying the night before as he stares out the windshield at brake lights and snowflakes. He’s not sure what he bloody fucking expected to happen afterward. Of course Edward shows up last minute, and of course he charms his way out of being a fucking prick. Story of their fucking lives. He’s the same as he was at eighteen.

As he passes a line of suburban houses, his eyes catch on a familiar vehicle coming up on his right. It’s a beat up old truck covered in various vulgar bumper stickers. He recognizes it immediately, cocking his head to the side. What on Earth is Jack doing back here? He inches forward again as the traffic does, shaking his head. Imagine if Jack knew Ed was in town.

He inches forward again, glancing between the road ahead and the truck in the driveway.

Fuck it.

He turns on his signal and pulls out to the side of the road.

Having planted himself in front of the television with a couple beers and a shit TV dinner, Izzy’s three episodes deep in some crime drama when his doorbell rings several times in quick succession, ending on a prolonged one. He frowns, pausing the show and dragging himself to his feet. He carries himself to the door on his crutches, having ditched the leg in favor of the more comfortable couch hours ago. When he opens the door, it’s to a flushed and rather clearly upset Stede Bonnet. He can’t help the pleasure he feels at the sight, and his lips turn up at the side before he corrects himself.

“Bonnet,” he greets, trying to keep his tone even.

“I—M-w-You—” Stede stutters a moment, clearly worked up, before he bursts out with an indignant, “What the fuck?”

Izzy raises an eyebrow.

“You–you–” He reaches forward and pushes Izzy’s shoulder so lightly it’s practically a tap. “You absolute…cock,” he huffs, looking briefly alarmed as Izzy steadies himself on the door before he regains his irritated look.

Izzy leans against his door frame, pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth and taking Bonnet in, his outfit in disarray and his hands still lifted from his flailing gestures. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies. 

Stede scoffs. “So you didn’t send over your…grimy little friend to steal Edward away?”

“Grimy little friend?” Izzy asks, amused by the description.

“Yes! Now Edward and Jack are God knows where!” Stede’s nose crinkles up as he says Jack’s name, and Izzy can’t help the satisfaction he feels at his plan having worked. The Ed that comes out around Jack is as real an Ed as any of the romantic, suave versions Ed’s let Stede see. Izzy’s just saving him time. 

“Look, this might be funny to you, but this is my life! And my fiancé! And you just come and you—you—you take me out to all these places, tell me about your past, listen to my stories, take me to your bar and….and… seduce me!”

“Oh, please,” Izzy says, rolling his eyes.

“You knew I was engaged!”

“You invited yourself to my flat,” Izzy retorts, his amusement starting to fall away. “After a night of nothing but complaints about your fiancé, I might add.”

“Well, you were pretty quick to take advantage,” Stede snips.

Izzy frowns, taking a step back from Stede as the words land uncomfortably in his gut. “Oh, fuck off. You’re a big fucking boy, you can make your own decisions on who to fuck.”

Stede looks back at him for a moment, the look in his eyes making it clear that his mind is racing. “Fuck,” he says softly to himself. Then, slightly louder, “Fuck!” It’s almost endearing, him red faced and swearing after a week of poncy rich person politeness, but he seems so…distressed. Izzy’s nose scrunches up as he watches Stede pace in the doorway, hands flexing and unflexing. Then, quietly, he says, “You’re right,” and Izzy raises a surprised eyebrow. 

“Is it over, then?” Stede asks. “Do you think—” He sighs. “Or maybe I want it to be over. I just—For a moment, I thought everything might work itself out. I’m an idiot.”

Izzy doesn’t disagree. Still, he could have been the bigger person last night. He could have told Stede to sleep the alcohol off in the guest room and give Ed a call in the morning. At the very least, he could have driven past Jack’s truck and left Ed and Stede to their holiday. But, he’s never been the bigger person type. If he’s honest with himself, he wouldn’t have gotten as far in business with Ed if he was. If he’s even more honest with himself, he wants to see Stede and Ed fall apart. He wants the confirmation that Ed just can’t make something like that work. Maybe that’s why, with him…

“Well, I’m sorry, then,” Stede decides, cutting into his thoughts, tugging his coat around himself tighter as a breeze ruffles his already messy curls. “I suppose I should leave you to your holiday.” He looks properly pathetic as he says it, eyes watery as he avoids Izzy’s gaze, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Izzy sighs. “I only thought them hanging out would bug you,” he admits, and he did. “I didn’t think Ed would go out with him. Didn’t think he was that much of a fucking twat.” He thought they’d make it back to the city before they fell apart, at the very least.

“Me either,” Stede agrees bitterly.

Izzy hesitates a moment before he steps forward again, opening the door wider. “You want to come in?”