Chapter Text
Izzy came home to the sight of Ed passed out in front of the TV and the scent of chocolate in the air. He moved quietly through the living room to the kitchen, smiling a little despite himself at the entirely predictable state Ed had left it in. There were dirty bowls stacked on the powder-dusted countertop and a slab of freshly baked brownies set out on the cutting board, a generous corner missing. Ed would be struck by the random urge to bake, sometimes, although the frenetic energy that gripped him whenever he got into that sort of mood never seemed to extend to cleaning up after himself. Izzy didn't mind too much, though – he found doing the dishes meditative in a way that just bored Ed to tears. In any case, Ed was an excellent home baker when the mood did strike, so there would be a treat waiting for Izzy when he'd finished tidying. Seemed like a fair trade to him.
He collected the bowls and various kitchen implements Ed had used in his culinary ventures, giving everything a good rinse before filling the bottom of the sink with sudsy water. He kept his movements gentle, conscious of Ed snoozing still the next room over, and worked his way through the dishes, setting each aside to dry.
The methodical motions let his mind drift, floating over the mental image of Ed asleep on the couch, hair splayed out over the Union Jack pillow he'd bought years ago purely for the look it put on Izzy's face. Unbidden, the mental image shifted, and suddenly Izzy could see Ed stretched out on Stede's sleek sofa instead, head cushioned on Stede's thigh.
Izzy paused in his scrubbing, a sudden ache in his throat that had nothing to do with how he'd spent the evening. He wanted to imagine himself kneeling there again, or even daring to join the imagined Ed and Stede on the sofa, but he just felt like an intruder in his own mind.
It seemed like he'd spent so much effort trying to ensure that any infatuation Stede felt for him didn't bloom into anything more, that his own feelings had grown unchecked.
Well. It wasn't like he didn't have form. The man he'd lived with most his life currently sleeping on the couch was testament to that.
He looked down at the brownies, appetite suddenly gone, and packed them into a plastic container instead, then moved back out to the living room. He picked up the remote from where it had dropped from Ed's limp fingers, turning off the TV and cutting off the muted lights casting colour onto his sleeping face. Ed always looked so peaceful at rest, so much so that Izzy felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of waking him, but Ed's neck and back would most definitely thank him come morning.
Still. There was nothing saying Izzy couldn't savour the sight a little longer, regardless of the lump it put in his throat.
Despite himself, he imagined kneeling before Ed now, much the same as he'd done for Stede earlier that evening, extending an invitation that had been open for more than two decades.
It wasn't an offer that Ed would take up, he knew. He'd known that for a long time, had made a begrudging sort of peace with it.
He'd savour what he had, for as long as he still had it.
"Ed," he said with a hoarse rasp, putting a gentle hand on Ed's shoulder, standing as far offside as he could so that he wouldn't be hit by a flailing limb when Ed inevitably woke with a violent jerk.
"M' brownies," Ed slurred, eyes half-focussed as he bolted upright, then immediately made a face at the kink in his neck.
"Already packed them away," Izzy assured as Ed rubbed his neck and blinked a few times, slowly becoming more cognisant. "Cleared off the dishes, too."
Ed frowned. "Didn't need to do that, Iz, I would've done it."
Izzy let out an amused snort. "Bullshit, Eddie, you hate doing the dishes."
Ed gave him a wry smile. "Yeah, reckon I deserve that," he admitted. "Free brownies made up for it, though?" He waggled his eyebrows. "No nuts, nice and easy on your throat."
Izzy ignored the jibe, and the tightening twist in his gut. "I'll let you know when I have one tomorrow," he said. "Too late for chocolate now, anyway, and you're too old to be sleeping on the sofa like that."
Ed paused in rubbing at his neck to glower. "Like you're one to talk," he accused, then heaved himself off the couch with a decidedly unyouthful grunt.
Izzy rolled his eyes. "Go to sleep, Ed," he said. "In a bed, preferably." He bit his lip to keep from offering to share his own.
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Stede was at something of an impasse.
He stared hard at the sticky note in his hand, slowly rotating it as he worried at the corners. It wasn't any different to the ones Izzy had left for him before. It probably wasn't even necessary, now, it wasn't as if anything but the location had changed. Was Izzy having some degree of anxiety over the arrangement, if he felt the need to leave Stede a reminder each week, like Stede would somehow forget without it? Izzy was certainly high strung enough for it, but Stede had to admit that he was probably reading too much into things. Much as he might like to fantasise otherwise, it was more than likely Izzy wouldn't feel anything but annoyance if their appointment ever somehow slipped Stede's mind. The added anticipation that it brought Stede was little more than a side effect.
He'd been having Izzy over at his every Friday for almost a month, now, and aside from the first time they'd shared together at Stede's, when Izzy had let Stede stroke his hair gently as he knelt on the floor, Izzy hadn't shown anywhere near that level of tender vulnerability again. In fact, when Stede had tried it a second time, Izzy had pulled away immediately, which was about as unequivocal as a response could be.
Even if Izzy wasn't opening up emotionally, though, he was certainly opening himself up in other ways. Stede flushed. He definitely wasn't complaining about that, especially given that Izzy seemed to be learning better and better exactly what got Stede going.
Still, it was becoming increasingly clear that Stede wasn't going to be making any emotional inroads there, no matter how much he'd like to. He could make himself be content with that. He could.
It might've been easier to believe that if it had felt like things were progressing with Ed, but Stede wasn't seeming to have any luck there, either. Ed was so confident and clearly experienced in this sort of thing, surely if he were interested, he wouldn't be waiting for Stede to make the first move, would he? It was feeling more and more likely that Stede truly had been reading into things. And even on the off chance that he hadn't, simply inviting himself into Ed and Izzy's relationship just felt like it would surely be a faux pas of some kind. It would almost certainly backfire, and he didn't want to jeopardise his friendship with Ed, nor the arrangement he'd come to with Izzy – even if he did want more out of both.
No, it was feeling more and more like if he tried anything like that, he wouldn't end up having either.
"-rth to boss, hello? Stede, are you even awake? Or have you fallen asleep with your eyes open?"
Stede jerked suddenly, chair nearly rolling out from underneath him as he blinked back into focus. Lucius pulled his hand back from where he'd been snapping his fingers in front of Stede's nose.
"Lucius?" Stede blurted, a little discombobulated and still half-stuck in his moping reverie. He hastily stuffed the sticky note into his pocket, then belatedly realised that was far more suspicious than simply folding it over would have been.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Oh, good, you remember me, I was beginning to think you wouldn't."
Stede shook himself a little. "What are you doing here?"
"Or not," Lucius muttered under his breath. "I work here," he said, enunciating his words slowly. "I'm your executive assistant. You pay me." He shifted back to his regular cadence. "On that topic, actually, you don't pay me enough."
"No, I meant– it's after five o'clock," he pointed out, still a little flustered. He hadn't known Lucius to stay back once in the whole time he'd been working at QAR, Stede had assumed that he'd be able to have his little one-man pity party in privacy. "I appreciate the initiative, I know staying back isn't typical for you, but can't whatever it is wait until tomorrow?"
"Well, it's not 10pm on a Friday, so I know you don't actually have anywhere to be rushing off to," Lucius said.
"Sorry?" Stede squeaked, feeling a cold flash of panic. The sticky note felt like it was burning an accusatory hole in his pocket.
Lucius couldn't possibly know.
Could he?
Stede had the sudden, irrational thought that Lucius had been stalking Izzy, and had followed him when he'd been visiting Stede's house – which was obviously entirely inappropriate, but Stede abruptly realised he couldn't necessarily do anything about it, not without risking Lucius blowing the whistle on Stede having relations with a man who, if you wanted to be pedantic about things, was technically his subordinate–
Lucius pulled a sympathetic face. "Stede. I have to interact with Izzy on a tragically daily basis, I know what his handwriting looks like. You don't even crumple the post-its before you chuck them out."
"Ah," Stede said, feeling a little faint. That made more sense. Although it still presented the same dilemma, albeit at least with less criminal intent on Lucius' part. Which unfortunately only gave him more leverage against Stede.
"I mean, fucking the secretary? How tawdry," Lucius continued, looking faintly smug, and Stede cringed.
"He's an executive assistant," he protested weakly. "And he's not even my executive assistant."
Lucius gave him a sceptical look. "Oh, yeah, sure, that makes it totally fine, then."
"It's better than if he was," Stede insisted, feeling more than a little defensive. It wasn't really a power imbalance if there was no way Ed would ever fire Izzy. Not to mention Ed's relationship with Izzy. Although, technically, they had built QAR together, with Izzy naturally falling into a more administrative role, so that was perhaps a little different.
"By, like, the smallest margin," Lucius countered, unrepentant, then rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna, y'know, do anything about it, consenting adults, whatever, but, personally, I feel like it's all of my business and I need details." He raised his eyebrows again. "I even stayed back after work for this, really, it's the least you could do."
Stede felt his face heat. "I really don't think this is an appropriate topic of discussion for the workplace, Lucius," he said primly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, should I have not held your hand through your whole Baby Gay crisis a few months ago, seems like that's not exactly office-appropriate either, is it?" Lucius sniped back with a challenging stare. "You were the one that started asking me about the gay clubs in town, you basically owe me gossip if things get interesting for you."
"Yes, well," Stede blustered, aiming for haughty but knowing his face was flushing very deeply. "That club recommendation did prove… enlightening, as it turns out."
Lucius' jaw dropped with delight. "Wait, OK, I totally assumed you either chickened out completely, or that going to that club was an absolute disaster, and that you didn't say anything because you were too embarrassed, but, you know what, I'm happy being proven wrong, for once. Tell me everything immediately." Stede went to open his mouth, but Lucius' eyes went suddenly wide, and he cut Stede off. "Wait. No. Oh my god. Oh my god, Stede, was Izzy there?"
"…I don't know if I should answer that."
Lucius looked even more delighted. "Oh, OK, so that's a yes, then. You've got literally the worst poker face I've ever seen, I'm just going to keep guessing, and go from your reactions to figure out if I'm right." He clasped his hands together, grinning. "You seem like the kind of guy that clichés actually happen to. Did your eyes meet across the bar, you got into one of those bitchy little arguments you love having with each other, until the throes of passion consumed you both, and he dragged you off to the men's? I've seen the way he stares at your lips when you yell at each other, I bet he was all over you." His eyes widened to a seemingly impossible degree. "Oh my god, did you–"
Stede felt a lump rise in his throat at the thought of something so ardent between them. "It's not… it's not like that," he said softly. "There's no kissing."
The mirth instantly slipped from Lucius' expression, as Stede's evidently lacklustre poker face failed him once more. "Oh, Stede, babe, no."
"It's all right!" Stede insisted, making himself smile a little too forcefully in the face of Lucius' sympathy. "I knew from the beginning, that it wouldn't– it's just sex," he said firmly. "I am respecting his boundaries."
Lucius' expression didn't shift. "Stede, not that respecting boundaries isn't sexy and all, but have you actually asked him if that's what he wants? Or have you just assumed that it is?"
Stede felt his too-wide smile wobble. "No, he's– he's been very clear on that front. Painfully so, even."
Lucius blew out a long breath. "OK, and how are we feeling about that? Casual sex isn't for everyone, you're allowed to say if it isn't working for you."
"I'm fine with– with all of it," Stede replied, his smile feeling more brittle with each passing second. "Why wouldn't I be?"
He sighed again. "You know, for someone who's basically a walking billboard for open communication, you are so bad at doing it yourself." He reached out and took one of Stede's hands between his own, patting it gently. "You're bottling things up, boss," he said. "If it's not working for you, you need to tell him that."
"What if it all blows up in my face?"
"Might if you're lucky," Lucius muttered, then returned to seriousness. "Honestly, Stede, you're deep enough in it that it's probably going to blow up no matter what you do."
"Do you really think it'll go that badly?" he asked, quiet and desperate and utterly pathetic.
"...Listen, boss, far be it from me to tell you how to live your life," Lucius said, in a tone that suggested he was about to do just that. "But the way you're tying yourself in knots over someone who's told you they don't want a romantic relationship, when you obviously do... you do know that Ed is, like, practically in love with you already?"
"...I'm sorry?" Stede blinked, sure he'd misheard. He'd all but convinced himself at this point that there was no way that Ed felt anything other than platonic affection towards him, but to have it stated so bluntly...
"Honestly, I think the only reason no one but me has picked up on the whole Izzy thing is because whenever you and Ed look at each other, both your eyes go all heart-shaped," Lucius told him, further boggling his mind. "It's kind of distracting, honestly. There's an office betting pool about it and everything."
"There is?" Stede said faintly. "That doesn't seem very... ethical."
Lucius – very diplomatically, Stede had to begrudgingly concede – didn't bring up the ethics of what Stede had been doing with Izzy again. "If it makes you feel any better, literally everyone except Jim bet that it would happen, it was just a matter of when, exactly. Jim figured that you wouldn't have the balls to ever admit it."
Stede felt an odd mix of offence and pride.
"So, like, not to tip my hand or anything, but if you could get moving on that soon, that'd be great for me, personally."
Stede felt the hope steadily blooming in his chest suddenly wilt. "I'd have to give up what I have with Izzy for that, though, wouldn't I? I know you've told me about throuples before, but Izzy doesn't..." He felt his heart twinge again. "He's not interested in anything romantic with me."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Look at you, diving right in the deep end," he cooed, expression morphing to a grin. "Y'know, as long as everyone involved is on board, you can have any configuration of romantic and sexual relationships you want. No reason you can't keep doing what you're doing, if they're both OK with that."
"Are you sure that would work?" Stede said, hearing the desperately hopeful tilt in his voice but unable to quash it.
Lucius made an expansive gesture. "Look, I'm not going to pretend it's a sure thing – they've known each other for like, forever, that sort of thing can make the energy kind of weird – but you're all adults. You can have a grown-up conversation about it. Works for me and Pete, at least."
Stede frowned. "Pete? You're dating our maintenance man?"
He sighed and patted Stede's hand again. "Your gaydar is so broken, Stede. Yes, I'm dating Pete. And also Fang, sort of."
"Wow," Stede murmured distantly, feeling his face warm, as it so often did these days, at the thought that things might work out well enough that he'd end up dating both Ed and Izzy. "...Is anyone in this office actually straight?"
Lucius shrugged. "Probably not."
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Izzy pruned an offshoot of his basil plant with extreme prejudice, and frowned.
He was quite proud of the little herb garden he kept just off to the side of the back porch. The research and planning he'd put into designing the optimal position of the garden bed and composition of plants contained within it appealed strongly to his sense of organisation. So did the routine of regularly trimming the plants to ensure the best growth, as well as the practicalities of having fresh herbs available to cook with. He normally found the process close to mediative, but for whatever reason, tonight, he couldn't get his thoughts to stop swirling.
Well. He knew exactly why. After an initial slip-up or two, he'd managed to keep a stoic emotional distance from Stede, even when in the midst of being choked on his massive cock. He still caught the looks Stede would give him on occasion, though, and even if Izzy could pretend that he hadn't been falling for Stede any harder than he had been already, it was growing increasingly evident that Stede wasn't entirely unaffected either.
The best outcome was that he cut things off, sooner rather than later. He'd let it go on long enough that it was going to be messy no matter what he did – that ship had sailed the moment he'd found out it was Stede's cock that his lips had been wrapped around, and offered to keep sucking – but the longer it went on, the worse it would become.
He didn't want to, though. It was deeply pathetic, he knew, but just knowing that such affection was available to him if he simply allowed it, even when he never actually acted on it, had proven far more intoxicating than he thought it would. The thought of losing what was, at best, a mere impression of intimacy, was still a desperately lonely one, especially when he'd likely lose Ed in the process, too. Ed in love was a rare, beautiful thing, even when it consumed him whole. It had never lasted long before, of course, but Izzy knew that this was different. Every time before, Ed had thrown himself into the relationship immediately and burnt himself out just as fast. The measured, almost shy approach he'd been taking with Stede these past few months were unlike anything Izzy had seen from him, and he knew that it was different for Ed than anyone that had come before.
Izzy cut off another offshoot.
No sense in moping about it. He only had himself to blame for all this, after all.
He brought his herb cuttings inside, rinsing them off in the sink before putting them into the small, empty bowl beside where Ed was chopping up vegetables for dinner. Ed flashed him a smile, eyes crinkling, and deftly kept dicing the carrots, occasionally sneaking a small cube into his mouth to crunch on. There was another bowl set aside with some julienned carrots and celery, sitting beside an unopened pot of Izzy's favourite dip. Ed didn't even indicate towards it, knowing that Izzy would notice it was there on his own – and probably because he'd forgotten he'd even set it aside for him in the first place.
Fuck, Izzy loved him so much.
He picked up his dip and his little bowl and slunk out of the kitchen, heart heavy as he left Ed to continue to turn the space into a disaster zone. The delicious food he'd emerge from the rubble with was well worth it, anyway, even if the knots Izzy's stomach was currently tying itself in meant that he might not be able to taste as well as he normally could.
He curled up tightly onto the sofa and switched on the telly, turning on a history documentary that he was pretty sure he'd watched before. He watched blankly, ostensibly absorbed, but when, what felt like only minutes later, Ed called out that dinner was ready, Izzy still couldn't say whether he'd seen it before, or indeed remember what he'd just watched.
Dinner was delicious, of course, but it still felt muted on his tongue, Izzy offering even less in conversation than he usually did when he was eating.
"Hey," Ed said when they were both about halfway through, breaking through the otherwise quiet clatter of fork on plate. "I had something I wanted to run by you."
Izzy felt like the bite he'd just taken suddenly became lodged in his throat. He swallowed it down. "What's that?"
"I've been thinking about asking Stede out on a date."
Ah.
And there it was, finally.
Izzy felt an almost sick sense of relief.
"Really," he managed, as evenly as he could, taking an only slightly shaky sip of water. "When are you thinking of doing that?"
Ed's expression was... odd, almost like part of him was disappointed that Izzy had agreed with him so readily. Maybe he'd been gearing up to make some impassioned defence of his feelings, expecting that Izzy would launch into a ten-point presentation on why Ed dating his co-CEO was a terrible fucking idea, and Izzy's limp acceptance had taken the wind out of his sails. That would certainly appeal to Ed's tendencies towards the dramatic.
But Izzy couldn't argue, not without proving himself to be a massive hypocrite. And probably not without also revealing himself to be a massive hypocrite, fuck knew that he could get hot-headed enough that he'd probably accidentally let the truth slip if things blew up into an argument.
"Next week, probably," Ed said, almost beyond the edge of hearing over the buzzing static in Izzy's ears.
"Where are you thinking of taking him?" Izzy's voice sounded foreign to his own ears, like listening to a stranger.
Ed dropped his gaze to his plate, swirling a strand of tagliatelle around his fork. "Dunno, haven't decided. Jackie's, probably."
Izzy was glad that Ed was looking down, so that he wouldn't see whatever the fuck Izzy's face was doing in response.
Jackie's was where he and Izzy had met. It was the place they'd made their regular haunt, despite Izzy's grumbling protestations over the intervening decades. He had a begrudging affection for the place beneath it, though, for the fondness of the memories it held despite the tacky décor and watered-down drinks.
"He'll fucking hate it there," Izzy pointed out, but even as he said it, he knew it probably wasn't even true. He'd turn up his nose at some of the stickier sections of flooring, Izzy was sure, but he'd take in the rest of it with such wide-eyed fascination. The worst that would happen would be that he would treat the experience as if he were a tourist, rather than a man on a date. Izzy hoped that he wouldn't do Ed that much of a disservice.
Jackie would certainly hate him, at least.
"I think you underestimate him too much," Ed countered. "Y'know, I know you and him are very different people, but I reckon there's a couple things you've got in common. You'd be surprised."
Izzy had to bite down a hysterical bout of laughter. Not as surprised as you'd be to find out what we have in common of a Friday night, he thought, and bit his tongue. "If you say so," he said with as laconic a shrug as he could muster, then shovelled the last few bites of his dinner into his mouth without tasting them, swallowing against the faint rise of bile in his throat.
He thought of the usual note that he'd left on Stede's desk, just that afternoon. Done so casually after having done so before half a dozen times, not realising it was the last.
One thing was achingly clear: the other shoe had finally dropped, and Izzy only had one more night before it was all over.