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Summary:
A soft, intimate supper: easy for Ed, manageable for Stede, just right for Izzy. They're going to make tender love to Izzy after this, they just know it.

A/N:
Welccome to that vague post-s2 where nobody died and they already all got together on that island. Written for the Canyon Writers' Workshop Winter Exchange: my recipient was xander994, and he prompted "Stede+Ed are protective of Izzy" and "Izzy initiates displays of affection." Anchors aweigh.

* * *



"Ed," Stede began.

"Stede," Ed mimicked, and Stede hated when he got his Stede-voice that right.

"The swift and sudden approach solves a lot of Izzy's problems!" he hissed.

"You coming in hot and heavy with the Gentleman Pirate thing til he forgets who he is is hot as hell, love, but he's not doing well enough for hot and heavy right now."

Across their modest lodge, Izzy was reclined on the chaise, bad leg propped up and forearm covering his face. He was in his work clothes still, but he had at least taken off his glove and loosened his cravat. His breathing was ragged, and while there might not be tears, he was definitely crying.

"He does look tender," Stede allowed.

"You gotta," Ed insisted, low. "Him and me, we're too tender."

"I don't know what to do!" he said, and it was only Stede's excellent breath control that kept their bickering from reaching their beloved.

"Just go be normal at him, I don't know. Quit worrying."

Stede sighed.

"And you're not serving anything deconstructed for dinner."

Stede sighed and flipped back to the front section of their recipe book. "Fine."

*

Hot bread and thick stew, in the end. Stede had a glass of red, and Izzy had small beer.

Maybe he'd start with a back rub, thought Stede, keeping his eyes on his bowl so he wouldn't be tempted to stare too much at Izzy. He'd already seen that Izzy's eyes were puffy and red when they'd sat down. Back rubs were normal, right? Normal spouses did that. Izzy had been looking so small and miserable. Possibly a bath? He could set out all the essential oils—

"Bonnet," said Izzy, reaching out and pressing his hand over Stede's. Stede hadn't realized he'd been jingling the silverware with his leg, apparently bouncing hard under the table. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried," he said immediately.

"Alright, it's by accident that you don't know where to put your eyes or your hands."

"Okay," said Stede. He didn't want his face to be flushing. It just was. "Okay. It just seems like right now, you might feel a little—?"

Izzy closed his eyes. With his face and whiskers slackened like that, he looked like the sopping-est wettest terrier Stede could imagine. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah."

When Izzy opened his eyes again, Stede held his gaze more firmly. Yes. Right. Izzy had taken his hand. Izzy's hand was dry and veiny, and very much like Stede's own: a little rough, a little tender from the work they all did. But they kept the fire burning in the hearth at all times, so it was warm.

Stede carefully maneuvered his hand out from under Izzy's and interwove their fingers. Izzy looked hard at Stede for a moment before squeezing their hands together and going back to his stew. Izzy being sat at Stede's right hand, this meant that Stede would need to use his left hand for his own stew.

Stede switched to bread.

A few moments passed with only the sound of Izzy's spoon touching his bowl, their hands woven together. Stede tried to breathe steadily so that his hand wouldn't tremble. He wasn't entirely sure he succeeded. But this was caring, this was very comforting, holding hands, he knew. Restful.

Except about three bites later, Izzy hissed as soup spilled down his beard, because apparently he couldn't eat with one hand, either, which Stede might’ve guessed. Without thinking about it, Stede reached over and mopped it up with his slice of artisanal bread.

They looked at each other for a moment: Stede, apprehensive; Izzy, the slightest crinkle to his eyes.

But something worked. Izzy untangled their hands and drew his chair closer to Stede. He lowered his head easily to rest on Stede's shoulder. Stede's left hand immediately dropped his bread and reached across the two of them to pull Izzy's right shoulder in tight. Stede slid his right hand up behind them to hold Izzy's head, stroking his hair.

Stede's palm was clammy, and Izzy's hair bunched up in little tangles as Stede rubbed his thumb in circles at the crease where Izzy's skull met his neck. Stede breathed deep, taking in the presence of him. Entirely diminished, exhausted, but being kept as well as Stede could. Izzy tucked his head under Stede's chin, and Stede could feel Izzy's humid breath on their clasped hands.

Izzy hummed a bit.

Stede took a deep breath and felt his chest swell. Izzy's chest swelled with him. He thought fondly of boobs and sternly reminded himself that wasn't what was happening right now. He mussed Izzy's hair a bit and tried to make sure they steadied, and slowed.

Stede was a relaxed spouse who attended to his beloved's needs during an intimate supper.

"Just reaching for the bread basket," Stede said, shifting them a bit. "The fresh butter really does make the difference, you know."

"Shh," Izzy said.

It probably made more sense to keep stroking comfortingly at Izzy than to try to figure out what Izzy was objecting to, exactly.

"We might have some of that brandy?"

"Keep shushed," said Izzy, shifting to make better use of Stede's bosom.

He tried a deep breath. Stuttering. Shit.

"Alright, up you get. Let's go fuck."

Stede sat up. "Go what?"

"Fuck. In the bed there. I know it's what you want."

"No! I mean, if you want to, of course, I just thought we'd—you're so worn down, a nice candlelit evening, and then maybe—tenderly—"

"Save me." He sat up and patted Stede's cheek condescendingly. "Up you get. Go on."

"Alright," said Stede, and stood up at the table. He pushed his chair back. He still stood up at the table.

"The bed," said Izzy.

"Yes! Yes." Loving spouse, loving spouse. He pulled out Izzy's chair and offered him a hand up.

Izzy took it and then pushed past him, heading to the bedside cabinet for the Nauti-glide.

Ed rapped gently at the front door and stuck his head in. Oh, was it his entrance already? "Hey, I smelled dinner, thought I'd see if—"

He straightened up abruptly. "Oh," he said, glancing between Izzy and Stede, suddenly calculating. "What's happening here?"

"You're both about to fuck me."

Ed looked at Stede behind Izzy's back, mouthed "what the fuck?" He held the air by its chin and mimed giving it a slow, tender kiss, tongue and everything. He stroked the air's hair after. Stede shrugged, also at a loss, and also envious of Ed's mime. That air got it sloppy.

"Ed, if you want to do a weird Bonnet kiss, just give him the fucking kiss," Izzy said without turning around.

Stede tried, "I'll get your dressing gown." He thought. "Darling."

"You do what you like," said Izzy, sitting down heavily on his armchair by the bed and starting to peel off layers. Stede wondered if staring lasciviously was also against the order of the night, but then considered the night seemed to have become disordered anyway. Ed muttered something about "getting some stuff" and drifted away.

Izzy started unbuckling his sparkly peg leg and doing his stretches for the night, kneading muscles and grunting as he went. This, Stede understood; there was never any question that Stede would do this part. Not since Izzy had been able to sit up after the gut wound and could with the force of his full and absolutely warranted fury tell them to fuck right off: Izzy took care of his leg, full stop. Izzy tending his leg did not look gray or haggard. He did not look like a drowning rat in need of rescue. Izzy tending his leg looked like a tired human person getting ready for bed, doing exactly what he needed for himself, at exactly the moment he needed it, at exactly the pace.

Stede leaned his hip against the arm of Izzy's chair and placed one hand on Izzy's shoulder, pressing a bit before Izzy swatted lightly at it. "You've still got your kit and all," he said, so Stede got to undressing.

Ed appeared by the bed again, silent, waiting by the armchair. Izzy handed him his leg. Ed hung it with the crutches in their place by the bedside. He waited until Ed sat down on their bed before he leaned forward and pressed their heads together, holding Ed in place. They breathed. Ed wiped tears from Izzy's eyes. Izzy cleared his throat, and it was over.

"Now," said Izzy, turning to Stede, "tend to me properly."

"Oh my darling," Stede said, finally sinking to the bed in relief and cupping the cheek Ed had just kissed. "Beautiful. Wonderful thing. You only had to ask."

Izzy threw a couple of Stede's firmer decorative pillows onto the bed. He pushed himself up from the armchair and slung his bad hip over them, ending up braced on both knees. He rolled ungracefully til he was up on his forearms, staring down at the bed. "Go on. Put your back into it."

Stede blinked and looked to Ed. Ed was staring down Izzy's arsehole, transfixed.

Stede said, "I'll just eat you out a bit, get you ready."

Izzy very pointedly threw the lube over his shoulder so that it hit Stede's face.

Stede felt his body uncurling. "Well," he said, and his chest was warm and swelling by the minute, "you really can't behave like that," and then he was on him.

Izzy immediately bucked up against Stede, but Stede was faster; he flattened Izzy below him and groped blindly for the lube. Ed's hand helpfully placed it in his, uncapped, from somewhere offstage.

Stede jerked himself hard and fast. Izzy grunted and made Stede's job harder by shoving his arse and cunt against Stede so Stede had no room to maneuver. At this Stede grabbed Izzy's hips and shoved him away. He held Izzy down with one hand and kept tending his dick with the other and heard himself saying, "You'll get what you deserve when I fucking say so. Keep your fat cunt to yourself, there's a lad."

Ed hummed, and Stede turned to look at him sitting on the opposite end of the bed: one corner of his mouth turned up, fumbling the drawstrings on his summer linens, trying to get his cock out. "You're always so mean to him, love."

"Less complaining, more cockstands," Izzy said into the bed. "Going to need yours in a minute too."

"Shut up," decided Stede, and with massive amounts of slippery lube he thumbed over Izzy's arsehole and then his cunt, waiting until Izzy thrust backward onto his fingers to let him know which hole he'd have the privilege of wrecking this evening.

Oh, his cunt. He had been listening. Stede bullied his cock in quick.

"You're lucky I sat through that farce as long as I did," said Izzy, his voice mean and delighted.

Stede drew back and thrust back in hard enough to force them both flat on the mattress. "You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you didn't have me giving you a seeing to," he snarled.

"Oh, sure, my daddy knows best," said Izzy, high and breathy.

Stede saw red. Ed cackled.

In one swift movement, Stede dislodged Izzy and pulled himself up to sitting. After a moment's rearrangement Izzy was on Stede's lap, still facing away. Stede grabbed Izzy's jaw and yanked Izzy's face perpendicular to his own and hissed, "Try telling me again what to do, boy."

He used his other hand to find Izzy's cunt again and line up his dick to slide back in. Izzy panted, but grinned. Well, fuck that. He let go of Izzy's jaw and reached around to crush Izzy's stomach with his forearm, shoving Izzy's back into his chest, hard. Strong and sure he stretched Izzy's cunt open from the front so he could ram in harder from the back. Izzy made a sound like the air had been punched out of him.

"My daddy knows best," Izzy tried again, sarcastic edge gone now, but still trying to keep his voice even.

"Yes," said Stede, low in Izzy's ear, "he does, doesn't he?"

He kept his hand on Izzy's belly, heel of his hand on Izzy's mound—exploring, pressing, listening out for each muffled grunt to decide where to press harder. He fucked into Izzy harder on the grunts. The grunts became aborted shouts.

Ed laughed again, and Stede spared a moment to take him in: beautiful Edward still sitting at the other end of the bed: hair falling down, summer linens diaphanous, cock somehow still stuck in his waistband. Grinning, glowing, panting, staring wide-eyed and delighted at the place where Stede was stretching Izzy open.

Stede tried to figure out if he was smiling his fairly regular, kind smile at Ed or what Ed called his deranged one, then he remembered it didn't matter. He mimed giving Ed a sloppy kiss, though him rocking back and forth at storm velocity definitely rated it less precise than Ed's from before.

As a more concrete gesture of love for Ed, Stede moved his thumb up to the hood over Izzy's cock and started working at it.

"For fuck's sake," Izzy said, breathing hard. "Do it, do it, just do it."

"Sorry?"

"Daddy," he said, and then pitched his voice absurdly higher, reaching out to Ed across the bed. "Oh, mister, my daddy's being so mean."

Ed apologetically pointed at his hand keeping his erection ready for action and, with the other, pushed at Izzy's belly so he was further impaled on Stede. Izzy didn't howl, but his body tensed further. A near thing.

"Daddy," Izzy said. "My cock fucking hurts."

"Well?" said Stede.

"Would you please," he ground out, "fucking get me off."

"So what you're saying," Stede said, groping, pumping, chest smacking into Izzy's back on every thrust, "is you urgently need your daddy, and you should've fucking let him get on with it before this."

"You cannot say you were tending me at dinner," said Izzy, reaching down to grind Stede's palm down harder on his cock.

"Thank me," said Stede.

Izzy turned around. "What?"

"Go on," said Stede, and he pressed on Izzy's cock, and Izzy howled. His sides heaved, and he laughed hysterically. "You shit," said Izzy. "You absolute shit," he said, hiccuping laughing, "'Oh, thank you," he said, and at least his Stede-voice was way worse than Ed's one.

Stede smiled, and it was not the maniac smile; it was the one Ed called his golden one. "You awful, awful little man," he said, petting Izzy's belly as he finished coming and settled down.

"Yeah, go on then," Izzy said, catching his breath, "in the twat."

Stede had a minute when he made believe that he was still smiling beatifically before Ed laughed and pinched at his cheek. "Iz! He's doing the eye-crossing thing! Oh, man, it's a good one."

Never worry about it, Stede thought, and his orgasm went just right.

After a moment Izzy rolled them over sideways so that Stede was spooning him from behind and they could work their way apart gently. He was still laughing, but it was a lot steadier. "Edward."

The last thing Stede saw before Izzy blocked his view was Edward beaming. "Why the fuck didn't you let me spitroast you, man."

"Because you never shut up when I can't talk, man."

His Edward voice was much better than his Stede one.

"So, what, no blow job?"

"Edward."

Stede could half-see Ed's expression settling back to considering from behind Izzy's shoulder. "Izzy."

"You know what you're going to do with that?" said Izzy.

"I really don't," said Ed.

Izzy's bottom rubbed back against Stede, warm and comfortable. The back of his thighs stuck to Stede's. Izzy's long leg was underneath his short one, supporting it; Stede's was propping it up from the back.

"Has your dick really been stuck like that the whole time?" Izzy sounded warm, fond, caught in the tail end of his laughter.

"If I pulled it out of the waistband I would've lost your hard-on," Ed admitted.

"Time we used it then," said Izzy. "It's a waste, losing things. Come lie down here."

Ed shimmied down the bed and lay on his side. He settled as far from Izzy as they needed to be able to look at each other and no further. Stede, cuddled behind Izzy still, saw that Ed's eyebrows were pinched together.

"Alright, Daddy, reach us over more of that blubber stuff."

Stede made sure to squirt himself a little bit before passing it over Izzy for Ed to hold. You never knew your luck. Izzy calmly repositioned Stede's arm away from his cunt so Stede was merely hugging his belly.

"Here we are then," said Izzy, and he held Ed's cock firmly. "How's this?"

"Well, if you're asking, could do with some rubbing." He half-smiled. "And you're sure no blow jobs?"

"You're a dickhead."

He rubbed up to Ed's dickhead and idly stroked his thumb over it. Stede could feel Ed's little shiver along the mattress.

"Right," said Izzy, speech rumbling against Stede's chest, "your hands aren't busy at all."

Ed's gaze was shining and steady. "That's true."

Stede could see that Izzy was running his thumb over Ed again. "Neither is my cunt."

Ed shifted a bit so that one arm came free and reached down for Izzy's cock. He smeared lube liberally over both of them, and Stede heard Izzy's breath pick up. Ed wasn't waiting outside waiting to be called in anymore; he wasn't hiding behind Stede; here he was, staring right at Izzy. Gazing, really. Maybe Izzy was doing the same.

"Mm," Ed said after a bit. "Fuck yeah."

"Yeah?" said Izzy. "That's still the one, huh."

"What about this one?" said Ed, and Izzy squirmed back against Stede, laugh punched out of him. "Yeah, right like that."

There were rhythmic noises and laughter again.

"There. More."

"Gotta shift for it. Yeah, I got it, there we are."

Calm clapping of skin on skin.

Izzy fell into his strange, grunting little moans, and Ed got higher and breathier, and, unseen by all, Stede smiled his little smile that meant he loved them.

"No, pinch it, that feels good since your husband worked it over."

"Your daddy," came the idle response. "Ahh, yeah, little harder, right there."

A few moments when they clearly hit the other just right, little exhalations.

"Oogh," said Ed, one of these times, and Stede thought it might be worth it to ask:

"Would it be alright if I just slipped Ed a couple fingers?"

"Go to sleep, Bonnet," Izzy said mildly.

Stede wiped the last of his lube on Izzy's cunt, fingers knocking into Ed's. He went back to hugging Izzy's belly.

He lay all the way down behind Izzy, face fully buried in the nape of Izzy's neck. He drifted. Lots of very soft noises. Tender, even. At some point they started kissing, but wet, slow, as they pulled apart and went back to each other again.

"That feels nice, Iz."

And later: "Yeah—" Izzy murmured— "right there. Yeah, Ed, we're doing good."

"We are, aren't we," said Ed, wet, but they weren't kissing.

Stede heard someone make a noise: getting higher, a hard breath, voice breaking; a come down, high and broken and breathy. Panting, making the same little noises—Ed, his not-quite crying as he came down, always a little overwhelmed.

Izzy stroked Edward's side for a while. After a minute, Stede felt Ed working again. Izzy groaned, always raspy; a pushing out of a noise, thin, no less powerful for it.

And there they all lay, drifting, maybe even til morning.

"Izzy hates carrots in his stew, you know," was the last thing Stede heard before he fell off to sleep.