#okay it's not strictly izzy hands x reader but I think it's within the SPIRIT of that

[bringinghometherain]

Comfortember Day 6: Exhaustion

lmao I don’t know what I’m doing. I think this fits? Guess someone will tell me if it doesn’t.

1300-ish words, Our Flag Means Death, Izzy Hands x Female OC (Charlie from my Ao3 fic, but this was meant to work as a standalone). Rated M I guess? Sex is mentioned but none happens. We’re just here for fluff.

Many days at sea were long days, but this had been one of the longer ones. The crew of the Revenge had been up early, getting the ship docked and moving heavy barrels of sugar out of the hold and down the gangplank to be sold. They had taken advantage of the temporarily empty hold to clean and retar the boards down in the dark, a nasty job that left everyone’s shoulders and backs aching. By the time that was done new food and supplies and large, heavy barrels of water needed to be loaded back into the hold, and several heavy crates of books that Captain Bonnet had picked up in town needed to be carried up into the captains’ cabin. 

Because the weather was amenable and the harbormaster was suspicious, the Revenge left port as quickly as it had come in, which meant anchors, sails, lines all needed attending to. By the time the Revenge was back out on the open sea Charlie wasn’t sure she had the energy to descend from the rigging. She debated sleeping on the mizzen top, but Roach had brought dinner up to the main deck and whatever it was, it smelled divine. Hunger overpowered exhaustion long enough for her to lower herself slowly down to the deck. 

The captains were eating with the crew tonight, Stede Bonnet reminding everyone to drink enough water (“hydration is vital, everyone!”) and talking excitedly about the books he’d bought. Ed was listening and nodding along, thank god, because the rest of the crew was silent as the grave, hunched over their food, focused on finishing it before they fell asleep sitting up. The Swede did at least once that Charlie noticed, his face nearly connecting with his plate before he jerked awake and looked around to remember where he was. Charlie might have laughed and poked fun at him, but she was too tired even to do that. 

When she was finished eating she scootched over to a large coil of rope, still within hearing distance for Captain’s story time, reclined against it, and lowered her hat over her eyes to block out the lamplight. She was still being teased for the black felt hat she’d picked up on their last shore leave, told she looked like some sort of junior highway bandit, or junior storybook villain, or junior apprentice clergy, but Charlie was quite sure she looked cool, especially with the brim pulled down over her eyes like Jim did sometimes. She crossed her arms over her chest to add to the Cool Jim aesthetic and was asleep against the coiled rope within minutes. 

She woke with a start to the prod of a boot on her thigh, snatching her hat up to see the main deck of the Revenge empty, and First Mate Hands standing over her. She squinted up at him for a moment, then returned to her reclined position against the rope, pulled her hat back down over her eyes, and said “No.”

“I’m not here for that,” Izzy said, “It’s going to rain tonight, you can’t sleep on deck.”

“M’fine,” Charlie mumbled. She felt Izzy crouch down next to her and rest a hand on her thigh. I guess we’re really alone, she thought, if he’s doing that. They hadn’t been involved for very long, or very consistently, but each of them made it very clear to the other that the rest of the crew finding out about their involvement was not an option. 

“Come on,” he said quietly, “Get up.” His tone was gentler than it had been all day, as he had put the crew through nothing short of hard labor so they could get in and out of port quickly. Charlie knew he’d just been doing his job today, but she was still half-asleep, every muscle in her body was sore, and after the day they’d had she was not feeling particularly friendly towards the first mate. 

“Mr. Hands,” she said from under the brim of her hat, “I was sleeping, I was sleeping so well, until you woke me up just now, and I am so sore after today and I was sleeping so well right here. I don’t care if it’s going to rain, if nothing else it will wash the sweat and tar off of me, and in eight to ten hours I will be happy to move from this spot.”

Izzy said nothing, and she wondered if he would leave her alone. Alas, he grabbed the brim of her hat and pulled it up so he could see her face. She glared at him.

“This is a stupid hat,” he said, still holding the brim up. 

“This is a very cool hat,” Charlie countered, yanking it out of his grasp and back down onto her face. She felt arms wrap around her back and under her knees and groaned in protest as Izzy lifted her up off the deck. Rule #48 on the Revenge was “do not pick Charlie up without her explicit permission,” after a late night of drinking games and shenanigans had ended with several superficial stab wounds amongst the crew. 

She quoted this rule to Izzy now, though she didn’t think it would do much good. “I can always drop you off the side of the ship, if you’d prefer,” he offered, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“That’s how Lucius died, Izzy. You can’t joke about that.”

“Lucius isn’t dead, you dolt,” Izzy retorted. She could tell he wasn’t heading to the rail anyway, based on what she could see from under the brim of her very cool hat. 

“If I wasn’t so tired I’d have escaped your grasp by now,” she said, changing the subject. “You’re lucky I can barely move, Hands.” 

Izzy chuckled and she felt them start to descend the narrow staircase to the gun deck. “You’re lucky you haven’t escaped,” he murmured into her ear, “Because now you get to sleep in a real bed.”

Charlie paused to process that statement for a moment, her brain turning the words over a few times. “I don’t have it in me for sex tonight, Iz,” she reminded him blearily. 

“I know that,” he said, “But I can’t very well carry you into the middle of the crew’s quarters like this and dump you into your hammock, now can I?” 

The hypothetical alone sent a bolt of anxiety through Charlie’s chest. “Fair enough,” she said as casually as she could muster, “Guess I get a real mattress tonight.” 

Izzy grunted affirmation and stopped outside his cabin door. He lowered Charlie to the ground feet-first and rolled his shoulders after the effort of hauling her below deck. She squinted blearily around to make sure no one was witnessing this whole…whatever this was, then followed him inside. She managed to strip her boots and coat off and collapsed into his straw mattress, next to the wall as was her customary spot. The hat remained on her head, over her eyes, until a hand from above removed it to her weak protest. 

“I’m going to throw this hat overboard,” Izzy muttered as he hung it next to her coat. 

“I’ll kill you,” Charlie threatened, eyes closed, one hand grasping to pull the worn blanket over herself. 

“It’d be worth it to get you to stop wearing it,” he said, sitting down to remove his own boots and outerclothes. She felt him crawl into bed next to her and grumbled at him as he rearranged the blanket to cover himself and not just Charlie. “Oh, hush, Jesus Christ you’re a nuisance.” 

Charlie grumbled some more vague threats as he wrapped a strong arm around her and pulled her close. Sleep overtook her before she could hear Izzy Hands’ reply. 

It did not rain that night.