Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
Rating: T
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Words: 2918
Relationships: Samuel "Black Sam" Bellamy/Israel Hands
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, Divorced Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Israel Hands, Oblivious Israel Hands, Sam Bellamy is down bad, Bickering, Bellhands, Dessert & Sweets, (minor) internalized body image issues, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff, possibly tooth-rotting fluff?, tooth rotting fluff if only for the pun, Mild emotional hurt/comfort, Background Relationships
Summary:
Izzy has a sweet-tooth that he’s kept secret for all these years. Sam Bellamy plots to use this to seduce his old crush. Too bad for Sam that Izzy’s denser than any cake.
Hello tumblr! Long time not post! Here's my silly modern Bellhands that kinda belong to my Coffee Philosophy au. This is also my entry for Izzy Hands Bingo for: Modern AU, Music, Cake, Summer, and Books!
You can find Izzy's holiday pictures without the text (and also my little ramble about this animatic) under the cut!
If you're wondering who took the photos, the answer is Sam. They are the pictures from their summer vacation. I had a lil trouble when looking for reference photos. Why are most luxury vacation destinations beaches? These two can't go to beaches or yach because someone has severe thalassophobia😩
This summer vacation is actually 'canon' in Coffee Philosophy AU, which reminds me that I should really finish writing that story...
You'd think months of arguing with his ex-boyfriend/business partner would teach Izzy not to get romantically involved with people he works with.
No such luck, though. He's still dumb as rocks.
In his defence — have you seen Sam Bellamy???
a fic by yours truly and art by wonderful @reinarandraw created for @ofmd-reverse-bang
Characters: Izzy Hands, Sam Bellamy, original cat character
Relationships: Sam Bellamy/Izzy Hands
Rating: PG-13/Teen
Contents/Warnings: Domestic fluff (with a brief and vague allusion to the Toe Incident and other Acts of Ed)
Summary: Izzy woke up alone.
Notes: Originally intended for No Angst November 2022 (prompt: warm drink) but not completed in time. Set in a post-canon, everyone-went-to-pirate-school-together-style AU; all you really need to know is Sam is Izzy's childhood friend, now-lover and Izzy has a cat. Post-Season 2 I've made edits to the original text to incorporate some elements of the updated canon.
Word Count: 1235
Read on AO3
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Izzy woke up alone.
This wasn’t exactly unusual. He’d slept and woken alone most nights and their subsequent mornings since being appointed Blackbeard’s first mate and gaining the associated perks--namely, his own cabin and a berth he didn’t have to share with two other crewmates at minimum. Even accounting for the night’s when he’d opted for company, squeezing in next to Fang and Ivan belowdecks on the Queen Anne or more recently above deck on the Revenge, and for the bed-hogging mouser that had claimed a portion of his space for herself the past year, that was still the majority of the last decade or two that he’d spent waking alone. So, no, it wasn’t out of the ordinary at all.
It just wasn’t expected. He’d woken the past three mornings to Sam wrapped around him like a boa constrictor and drooling in his hair, and he’d had every presumption of doing so again today and each following day for the foreseeable future. The Revenge was currently sailing with the Whydah Gally en route to another of Edward and Bonnet’s harebrained “adventures,” giving Sam the excuse to hop over to the formers’ ship and stitch himself to Izzy’s side twenty-four hours a day (probably half the reason he’d been so encouraging of this little detour in the first place). It had become routine already: Izzy rising early and sliding himself out from under Sam’s comforting weight, leaving his lover to sleep another hour or so while he began the day, brewing himself coffee in the galley, and then stepping out on deck to relieve the night watch and enjoy the quiet break of dawn with only the cat at his heels for company.
It was downright domestic, and he’d quite gotten to like it. But today he was alone. No Sam at his side, no cat across his ankle, and only the blue-gray twilight outside his tiny window to let him know he hadn’t overslept.
He didn’t have time to be more than curious about it before the door to his cabin creaked open, years of conditioning (and more recent happenings) having him fully alert and clutching the knife under his pillow within the instant. A figure loomed tall in the doorway, staggering to a stop and clutching something close to its chest. It lifted its head to peer at Izzy through a tangle of long, black hair.
“...Sam.” Izzy sagged in relief, relaxing his grip on his knife and dropping his cheek against his pillow. “Fuck are you doing up?”
Sam, swaying listlessly, gave a full-body grunt at being addressed and shuffled stiff-legged into the room, escorted by Izzy’s errant feline. The Bell Witch chirruped merrily as she darted between Sam’s unsteady feet a few times just for the sport of it before leaping onto the bed and bumping her face insistently against Izzy’s.
“Right, alright, you little monster. Good morning.” Gently shoving the cat back, Izzy squirmed upright, kicking free of the blanket and swinging his thighs over the edge of the mattress to meet Sam as he reached the bedside, absently rubbing the stiffness from his residual leg. “And you. Did the Witch get you up? Never seen you conscious at this hour.” His gaze fell to the thing Sam held, unable to make it out by the still dim light. “What you got there?”
A softer grunt answered him this time, and Sam pressed forward, passing his prize into Izzy’s hands.
“C’rf’l,” he slurred, patting Izzy’s fingers as he wrapped them around the tin cup. “S’hot.”
The smell of fresh, strong coffee wafted up from their hands, and Izzy’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Getting a better look at Sam’s face, it seemed “conscious” had been a generous assumption. His lover’s eyes were bleary and barely open, and he still wavered dangerously on his feet, half-awake at best. How he’d managed to make his way to the galley and back in this state, much less successfully make coffee, Izzy hadn’t the foggiest. Sam had never been an early bird. He’d acclimated to a sailor’s schedule by necessity and with no shortage of mulishness. Izzy recalled at least three separate mornings in their shared youth when the bosun had stormed in to personally flip Sam out of his hammock. Briefly reprieved of captainly duties while aboard the Revenge, he’d been reveling in sleeping in just that little bit more than he’d been able to in years.
But not today. Today he had woken up before even Izzy and dragged himself barely coherent down to the galley to make coffee. For Izzy. So that he wouldn’t have to.
Izzy looked down at the cup wrapped in his hands, at Sam’s hands wrapped around those, and swallowed against the sudden tightness of his throat.
“...Thanks.”
It was all he could think to say in the moment, but it seemed enough for Sam.
“Mmm...” He bumped his face against Izzy’s much like the cat had and gave him a pleased smile. “...G’night.”
And then he turned and collapsed face-first into bed, asleep before he hit the pillow. The Bell Witch leapt out of the way with a yowl, turning in an indignant circle before hopping onto his bare back to begin pointedly kneading.
Izzy remained sitting at the edge of the bed, the heat from the coffee seeping steadily into his hands and up his arms, warming him to his chest. Or maybe it was staring at Sam that was doing it: dead to the world, hair caught in his half-open mouth, and the most beautiful man Izzy had ever seen.
The Izzy of a year ago would have been embarrassed (and the Izzy of later today might be as well) by how badly he was tempted to crawl back into bed with Sam, to tuck himself securely into the cradle of his body and sleep just a little more, indulge in his presence as long as he could. There was only so often they could be together, only so many excuses they could reasonably find for their ships to meet, so many detours they could make. And Izzy would need every moment he could steal with Sam to tide him over until the next one.
But work was work, and Buttons was expecting to be relieved. He’d be needing some sleep himself after a full night of whatever the fuck it was he and the moon got up to. Izzy was needed.
Maybe next time.
Taking a gulp of the still quite hot coffee, Izzy let it scald his mouth just enough to rouse him from his woolgathering and to his feet--one in the traditional place and the other set with care in easy reach. He dressed in the dark so as not to disturb Sam and lingered once more by the bed before leaving. The cat had made herself comfortable on Sam’s back, curled up and purring loudly as she blinked her one green eye at Izzy.
“Keep him warm for me, Bell,” Izzy said, smiling as she stretched up to meet the knuckles he gently ground against her scalp. He used the same hand to tug the hair from Sam’s mouth and bent to brush a kiss to his temple.
“See you after sunrise, Sammy.”
Closing the cabin door quietly behind him, Izzy took a slow, savoring drink of his coffee and headed above deck to watch the morning come in.
Sam and Izzy slow dancing, little more than swaying and baby steps in a circle while Izzy adjusts to his prosthetic. Izzy softly sings La Vie En Rose to Sam 🥺💖🔔🦄
Sam getting sick/tired to the point of exhaustion, so Izzy taking tender care of him - helping him wash his hair and bathe, get dressed for bed, bringing him easy-to-eat meals, reading to/with him or watching cute, cozy films together
