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English
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Part 5 of Baby Bonnet
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Published:
2024-04-12
Words:
2,000
Chapters:
1/1
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34
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Baby Bonnet Likes to Pick Flowers

Summary:

Unfortunately, the warmth of the day has been sapped by cold dread.

It’s been an hour since Stede said he would return.

After erroneously allowing Stede to run errands on his own, Izzy bands together with Ed to find him.

Work Text:

It’s often, these days, that Izzy will remain in close quarters to Stede and, by extension, Ed.

Today, however, Bonnet insisted he had his own errands to run, personal affairs and that.

So, Izzy left him alone for the day, and so did Ed. Ed stuck mostly around Fang—probably because Izzy joined Lucius, Frenchie, John, and Pete on their mission for art utensils. Izzy denied the suggestion of a whittling knife, but when it was bought for him anyway, he didn’t stifle the fondness in his voice as he called the lot of them fucking twats. Was nice, really. Feeling cared for like that. A whittling knife wasn’t a necessity. More of a frivolity.

Yet, as Izzy turned it over in his hand, warmth bloomed in his chest. Less about the knife, more about the gesture, or some sentimental shit like that.

Unfortunately, the warmth of the day has been sapped by cold dread.

It’s been an hour since Stede said he would return.

Of course, it’s fucking Stede, who could’ve very well seen a butterfly and followed it across the town in awe, or could’ve gotten distracted buying bolts of silks and restocking his wardrobe, or—

Or, he could’ve gotten lost. Izzy’s stomach turns.

A few feet away, Ed’s already begun harassing passersby, playing up the Blackbeard persona to intimidate information out of them. He freaked out about it well before Izzy allowed himself to feel properly fucking nervous. Stede is a grown fucking man—or, most of the time he is—so he could, theoretically, handle himself, but Izzy knows the world, and Izzy knows Stede. Stede is still a touch too tender. Naive. Easy to lure and easier to kill, especially if he’s trotting about with his pockets full.

Fuck.

After a few more failures in fearful shakes of the head and blubbering, Ed finally gets a lead, and he has the decency to let Izzy know, signaling him closer. They split off on either side of the street to cover all their bases, but Izzy follows Ed now, one hand curled around his whittling knife and the other resting on his sword hilt as Ed tips his head somewhere Izzy thinks is northwest.

As they walk, surveying the area and asking more questions, Izzy’s hand falls to his side from its place propped on his sword.

When they’re given another direction, seemingly getting warmer to wherever Bonnet’s ended up, Ed clasps Izzy’s hand in his excitedly.

He doesn’t let it go.

Izzy doesn’t make him.

It feels like ages before they end up likely a mile out from where they began. Izzy’s grateful he’s been noting their surroundings as they walk, so they don’t all end up lost. Ed hasn’t even somewhat seemed to be keeping track of what they pass, a one-track mind of find Stede, walking with tunnel vision.

Their hands stay locked, and Izzy’s just grateful to be in the periphery.

Or, he thinks he’s in the periphery, but then Ed looks over at him every now and then between rattling off things Stede could be doing or places he could be while Izzy organizes them into a mental list in order of likelihood. They’re brief glances, but with bright enough light, it only takes a flash to stun an opponent, and Izzy’s so dazed by having that fraction of Edward’s attention on him that he doesn’t catch whatever sound stops Ed dead in his tracks.

It takes Izzy a moment to come back to his surroundings, but they’re hardly a few paces from the last noteworthy thing he’d subconsciously added to the list of landmarks—that being a vivid plumeria plant that Izzy could swear he’s seen wilted and dead years before.

As they break off the road into the greenery, denser the further out they’re sent, Izzy realizes there are much fucking more where that bush came from.

Just behind short, struggling trees is a small clearing, flowers flourishing within it, and at its center is Stede, weaving vivid flowers together.

A few feet away from him is the rucksack he brought. It’s a small one, deliberately chosen for him so he wouldn’t splurge, but he’s swerved that obstacle, several items bulging out of the bag.

Annoyance can’t even spark in Izzy, though, when a twig cracks under Ed’s boot and Stede’s eyes alight on them.

He’s small again. Izzy can tell just by the look on his face—doe-wide eyes, lightly parted lips, raised eyebrows, and then a shy little smile.

“Hi.” He places his hands over the woven flowers. Izzy squints, but Stede huffs. “No peeksies!”

Peeksies. Jesus. Izzy always thought he’d die by a sword or bullet for Edward, but a heart attack is climbing up the ranks of possible deaths.

Still, he looks away from whatever Bonnet’s doing with flowers.

“Got lost, bud?” Ed points up at the sky. Stede looks up at it like he hasn’t ever seen it before. Its light paints him in a warm glow as the sun sinks.

“No,” he says defensively, shaking his head.

“What’re you doing all the way out here then? Said you’d be back an hour ago.”

“Oh…” Stede looks around. “I don’t know…” Stede frowns. “There was a moth.”

Not a butterfly, but a moth, which somehow makes perfect fucking sense for Stede.

“Led you here like a little fairy, did it?” Izzy asks.

“Mmhm!” Stede nods with his lips pressed together like he’s trying to contain a beaming bright smile. “Xylophanes wob—robinsonii…”

It means nothing to Izzy, but he raises his eyebrows and puts on an impressed expression. It seemingly delights Stede.

“I think it likes those flowers.” Stede points at the white ones around the edge of the clearing, tubes in the center of the petals. “Most moths come out at the… nighttime,” Stede explains. “So they like the white flowers because they can see them.”

“Didn’t take the guy’s flowers, did you?” Ed peers at Stede’s pile. Stede flutters over them again.

“No, it’s a surprise, no looking…” Stede sighs dramatically. “Oh, bother. You’ve already seen them. No more surprise.”

“I’m sure I’ll be plenty surprised,” Ed offers, shrugging as he steps forward. He doesn’t let go of Izzy’s hand, so he stumbles on his aid.

Quick as lightning, Ed whips around and stabilizes Izzy.

“I’m fine,” Izzy says dismissively when Ed’s eyes linger, too much acid in his tone, biting at the unfamiliar care and concern. Ed’s face falls a little, that edge to his expression he gets when he’s been rejected, and Izzy backpedals by adding a gruff, “Thanks.”

Ed nods and turns them around to Stede. Stede looks up at them. He’s not small in stature—he’s built like a brick shithouse, broad and sturdy, but with his eyes glittering up at them, his hair disturbed by the Cuban air, he looks as fragile as he is. Izzy’s heart pangs.

“I made stuff,” Stede says. “Gifts. For you. Bof of you.”

Izzy can count the amount of times he’s gotten a gift on one hand, two of those occasions being today.

“Shit, yeah? That’s incredible, Stede. Let’s see it, c’mon,” Ed says, his words coming out in an excited spill. Stede lifts his hands and reveals two circles of flowers twisted together, one with purple and red flowers and the other primarily white with pink and gold worked in with no noticeable pattern. Izzy can hear Ed’s breath catch in his throat. “You f—you made this?”

“Yes,” Stede squeaks. “Bad?”

“Wha—no, no, it’s—” Ed crouches down to examine them, and the way he strokes their petals is gentle as his voice as he finishes, “Incredible.”

“Oh!” Stede brightens. “I made it for Mummy because I wem—remember the flowers on Ca-Calypso, but I didn’t know if Pa—”

Stede breaks off, but Ed’s already frozen.

“Um,” Stede says. Ed doesn’t speak. Izzy can’t see his face, and his stomach flips. He knows the words left unsaid just as well as Ed. “Sorry.”

Ed is silent for another few seconds, but he finally holds a hand out to cup Stede’s cheek. Stede flinches, and Ed does in turn. Izzy doesn’t move, standing still as the tension pierces his chest and sprawls out to set his hairs on end and his jaw clenched and his hand creeping down.

“D’you want that?” Ed asks. “I can do that. Could do Papa. Don’t see why not.”

Stede’s brows knit together like he has a counterargument. “I didn’t mean to say it.”

“You didn’t say it,” Ed says. “You were gonna, but, I don’t know, we can ignore it. If you want. Could also not ignore it.”

“Papa,” Stede says, deliberately. Izzy can see Ed’s face enough to watch it twitch until it settles on something soft.

“Yeah, love.” Ed nods once, then nods again like each bob of his head increases his certainty. “Yeah.”

Stede isn’t always great at gauging discomfort, and Izzy’s sure it’s even worse when he’s small like this, but Izzy hears it—just a crack of uncertainty in Edward’s voice. He lifts a hand to place it over Ed’s back, and Ed inhales sharply, but when he turns to Izzy, it’s slowly. Calmly.

It’s a brief look, a briefer smile, and Ed looks back down at Stede. “We’ll talk about it more when you’re a big boy again, yeah?”

“Okay…” Stede says, but he sounds afraid.

“Best way to figure out if I like it is to try it out, yeah?” Ed reaches down and rubs Stede’s head like he's petting a dog. Stede fusses and shakes his head, and Ed wrenches his hand back. Izzy’s mouth twitches. He lowers a hand, repairs Stede’s hair, and slips beneath it.

“Under,” he says to Ed as he curls his fingers. “Scratch his scalp. Follow where he guides you.”

Ed mirrors Izzy’s movements, and Stede just about melts under their fucking fingers. Izzy can’t sink into it, though, because there are still sounds of people not far off. He withdraws his hand, Ed following suit, and Stede whimpers.

“Got to get back,” Izzy says.

“Wait—” Stede snatches up the white crown and proffers it to Izzy. “This one is for you.”

Izzy takes it in both hands, unsure what exactly he ought to fucking do with it when they still have to trek back. Stede stands up precariously, and Izzy hears him groan a tortured sound. Probably because Stede had his legs folded like sails. At least he has fucking legs. Little shit.

As soon as he’s stopped teetering, Stede’s arms wind around Izzy’s shoulders, and he’s bringing Izzy into a hug and rubbing his cheek against Izzy’s head. He presses a soft kiss to Izzy’s forehead—the scar, Izzy realizes—and before Izzy can even think to curl his arms about Stede’s waist, Stede’s whirling around to give Edward a helping of the same. Edward chuckles and wraps his arms around Stede like it’s instinctual, taking a fistful of Stede’s dark red shirt.

Once he’s emptied enough of the love he must’ve sat there storing for hours, Stede steps back, then toddles back up to Izzy. Izzy blinks.

“Here.” Stede smiles warmly down at Izzy and carefully places the crown over Izzy’s head. A strand of hair flies free of its style, but Stede looks so proud of himself that Izzy can’t even fucking care. Stede does the same for Edward, no less sweet. Ed stands with arms akimbo, jutting out one narrow hip and tilting his jaw to the side.

“How’s it look, babe? Cool as fuck, yeah?”

“Perfect.”

The earnestness cracks Ed’s attempt at silliness, his expression vulnerable.

“Shit,” Ed says, recovering. “I’ll take that.”

“Back now?” Stede scoops his bag onto his arm, and Izzy remembers again that this isn’t a dream. Fucking feels like one, surreal as it is to find a flower bed like this in the stuffy heat, but they have a crew waiting on them.

“Yeah,” Izzy agrees. “Back now, little love.”

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