Archive of Our Own

“I’m thinking of asking her to join the crew.”

It took Whitey Bay a few seconds to process the statement. The utter fondness in Pops’ voice was distracting enough by itself that the actual subject matter almost passed over her head. It didn’t of course, she wasn’t one of the most experienced crewmembers for nothing.

“You can’t be serious,” she replied, casting a critical glance at the person in question. “She’s a civilian; a pirate crew is hardly the place for her.” As if to solidify her statement, Bee laughed before blowing into a wand and bubbles began floating on the wind. Several of the boys hovered around her, some more obviously interested in the proceedings than others. Why Whitebeard insisted on adopting so many children, Whitey never understood. Well, she did and she didn’t. She recognized the Fatherly love Pops had for his crew (not that she had ever experienced that kind of love before she met him) but it also led to a largely inexperienced crew, a death sentence if they weren’t careful.

Whitebeard hummed, the air vibrating a little with the tremor of it. “She fits in well.”

“If you’re trying to get a replacement for Toki,” Whitey began and ignored the fierce glare Pops shot her way, “I don’t think this is the best way to go about it.”

“No? Why’s that? Toki was a civilian if you’re so insistent on that being the reason Bee couldn’t stay.”

“Toki had Oden to protect her.”

“Along with the entire crew. As Bee will have. Besides, won’t it be nice for you? Get you some female company and all.”

Whitey had to clench her teeth against the swell of rage that statement inspired. Had to bite down on the ‘well if we had more female pirates that wouldn’t be a problem’, if Pops would let her recruit women, if, if, if. It was an often had argument and she wasn’t interested in chasing down its familiar paths.

“I don’t need it,” she finally gritted out, turning her head. The pearl she kept on a charm attached to her headscarf bumped against her cheekbone. A sign of her loyalties. Whitebeard Pirates had two things: the familiar Jolly Roger and pearls to welcome new members to the crew with. 

Whitebeard eyed her and for a moment it felt like the light brown specks seemed to pull her apart, examine each piece of her critically, before making a decision and reassembling her. The moment his eyes flitted back to watch Bee, Whitey released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Pops could be intense; he didn’t get where he was by always being kind and it was always a sobering reminder. 

“We never asked Toki to be a part of the crew.” Oden? Yes. But Toki? While family, while loved, while protected? Never. It was that distinction that made it bearable.

Pops grunted, the information obviously disinteresting and Whitey scrambled for something else.

“When will you ask her?” Whitey asked, feeling a little desperate but it didn’t show in her voice. The sense of injustice—of unfairness—threatened to overtake her. Why would Pops let Bee join their crew when Whitey had asked, bargained, pleaded for more female members? Pops knew she didn’t mean women like Toki, like Bee. Kind-hearted, caring individuals though they may be, the crew needed might, they needed strength. Women to teach the boys how to blow bubbles was hardly necessary. All her life Whitey had been laughed at for her dream to become a pirate, underestimated in a fight, undervalued on a crew.

After joining the Whitebeard Pirates—who were men sure—but men who respected her, who never laughed at her strength, who listened to her opinions and her orders, she thought she’d finally found her home, her family.

It wasn’t until after she had gotten settled, had carved out a little place for herself on the crew and looked around that she realized, why am I the only female. The answer is unfair and yet strangely still compelling enough that she hadn’t left. Why she couldn’t bring herself to leave.

“I’ve never had a daughter before,” Pops had confessed to her once after she caught him in his room, enraged at yet another chance to get a sister-in-arms that Pops had refused. “I found the thought of you getting hurt under my name, fighting for my banner unbearable. I can’t stop you now, you’re here, you belong here, daughter of mine. But I won’t subject myself to more.”

“Give me some time?” Whitey asked (pleaded). Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands, likely drawing blood. Pops sighed as if it pained him, eyes glued to the figure Bee made. Her small frame surrounded by sun-weathered pirates, all with makeshift bubble wands, attempting to blow bubbles as she laughed, her black hair whipping around her face in the sea breeze.

“Fine, fine. A week at most,” Pops conceded and Whitey nodded once before she spun on her heel and left the deck behind, rage following her every step.

The ship couldn’t have women pirates. No, of course not. Yet some random girl they picked up from a Marine ship was okay. The exchange was so minimal, Whitey couldn’t believe it had inspired…all of this. They had rounded up the entire military crew on deck, after they had decided to attack them. Pops was surveying the crew, the Whitebeard Pirates scattered about the deck as the Captain of the vessel screamed curses and threats at Pops.

Pops had taken a step forward, as if to approach the Marine Captain when a woman had suddenly shot forward and flung herself at his leg. Pops had stilled and, once he stopped moving, the woman pulled back, shaking like a leaf before crouching down to pick something up. Whitey was too far away at the time to see what she held out in the palm of her hand, arm stretched out over her head to show Pops. She found out later it was a den den mushi, fallen from someone’s pocket. (Bee would later tell the story that besides the intense fear of being boarded by a pirate crew, she had been afraid someone would step on the snail.) After that, Pops had ordered they take Bee along and left his sons (and Whitey) behind to destroy the ship.

Grinding her teeth together, Whitey decided she’d talk with the boys later, see what they thought.

It took longer than expected to round them up and she didn’t even manage all of them. Marco, Izou, Vista and the newest member of their crew, an awkward Thatch. Haruta managed to sneak his way inside, much to Whitey’s annoyance. Haruta was barely ten (if that, who knew if he even knew his own age), the youngest crewmember by far.

Children, Whitey thought to herself as she watched them sit and complained about being in a storage room. It didn’t matter that she was only a few years older in Vista’s case, clearly the rest of them were no better than boys on a playground, battle skills notwithstanding.

“Quiet!” She barked and they quieted down slightly. “I wanted to get you dogs together to tell you something.”

“Aw man, why we gotta be dogs, yoi?” Marco whined immediately and Haruta’s high-pitched voice joined, the light green pearl brooch he always wore on his shirt proudly shimmering in the low light. 

“Yeah! I dun wanna be a d-dog,” his stutter made him stumble over his words.

Whitey pursed her lips. “Let’s focus. Pops wants to invite Bee onto the crew.”

“Lovely!” Vista broke in. “I was wondering when he’d ask her.” She bristled.

“Why!” she roared in question. “Why are you okay with that?! She’s not a pirate! Pops shouldn’t be askin’ her to join the crew, that’s madness. ” A soft scoff got her attention and she turned to Izou who was perched delicately on the edge of a box. His own deep purple pearl shining from one dangling earring. 

“Not sure why you’re so surprised,” he said in response to her silent question. “It’s obvious Pops is head over heels for her.”

The news clenched around her belly like an iron band and she hissed, “What.” Izou shrugged.

Haruta rubbed at his nose. “Ain’t Ma Bee and Pops already together?”

Ma Bee, how she hated that nickname.

“Nah, not yet,” Thatch interjected. “Do you think he’ll confess before or after he asks her to join?” He fidgeted with a ring on a chain around his neck, rubbing his thumb against the gold inlaid pearl. Not all of them displayed their pearls so visibly, it all depended on the person. Still, the conversation was getting wildly out of hand.

“Wait, wait,” she held up a hand before someone else could break in and distract everyone even more. “Someone explain this to me.”

“Pops is in love,” Vista sighed, ever the romantic. “I think it’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, don’t you want to see Pops happy, Whit?” Marco asked with a grin. She glowered at him as his grin widened. “Or are you jealous.”

“Ooohhh,” Haruta and Thatch said in unison.

“Why would I be jealous,” Whitey seethed.

Marco shrugged. “Dunno, you’re always bothering Pops for more women on the crew, shouldn’t you be happy about this, yoi?”

“She’s not a pirate.”

“Neither is Haruta,” Marco pointed out, ignoring the indignant ‘hey!’ that resounded from the statement. “Neither was I at first, as you so frequently liked to point out.”

Whitey crossed her arms. “That’s different. You at least knew how to fight, and Haruta will learn.”

“Couldn’t Ma Bee learn?” Haruta asked and she waved a hand.

“She’s too soft, she isn’t even helpful for the crew, more of a burden than anything else.”

The deafening silence at that statement made her shift with uneasiness. “Isn’t she?!” Whitey burst out. “Name one thing she does that is helpful,” as Haruta opened his mouth she tacked on, “that isn’t how to make bubbles.” He closed his mouth.

Izou piped up. “Maybe you should spend a day with Bee? See what she does on the ship.” Whitey crossed her arms.

“Why should I? I see her around; she doesn’t do much.” Just wander around greeting everyone and chatting with anyone who would listen, she had seen it all before.

Haruta and Thatch shared a look before Thatch straightened. “I think it’s a good idea, myself. But I’ve got chef stuff to do, Haruta wanna come?”

“Yesssss,” his lisp made him carry the ‘s’ for a moment longer than needed and Whitey flinched. Quickly the room emptied out until it was just Vista standing before her.  

“What?” she asked crossly, irritated that the meeting hadn’t gone to plan. They weren’t supposed to be happy about this for gods’ sake. She had been hoping to get more people behind her, and talk Pops out of it but clearly, that wasn’t to be.

“I agree with Izou,” Vista said firmly. “What harm could it do?”

“A waste of my time, for starters. I’ve got my own duties—”

“Whitey,” Vista interrupted, sounding disappointed. She sighed, aggravated.  

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Later that night, in the woman’s dorms (with only the two of them. It has always housed either Whitey herself or one other woman; Toki didn’t last long before Oden scooped her up into his own bed) she got ready for bed with a growing lump in her throat.

A den den radio played softly, as it did every night on Bee’s side of the room. They don’t talk, not after Whitey had made it more than clear that she doesn’t enjoy small talk. Now they only speak when they want something, ‘can you turn the music off’, ‘can you turn off the lamp’, etc.

“Say Bee,” Whitey said, and the older woman hummed before glancing over the book propped in her lap at her. “I was wondering if I could” —she had to fight a wince at the following words— “shadow you tomorrow? See what you do on the ship.”

Bee blinked a few times in surprise, her dark brown eyes staring before she recovered. “Oh! Yeah, if you’d like?”

“I would.”

She shifted before asking timidly, “Is there any reason?”

“Just curious,” Whitey answered mildly.

“I wake up at seven and leave the room by seven-thirty,” Bee said a little awkwardly. That was after muster, which is why Whitey always left the room before she did.

Whitey sighed, annoyed already. “Alright.”

Waiting for Bee to wake up was its own special kind of torture; fully dressed and ready at six o’clock, the routine fully ingrained into her. Still, once she flicked on a light and started idly flipping through a book, Bee woke up soon afterwards.

Her routine was simple but she apparently started the day out with music as well, a fact Whitey hadn’t known but also didn’t care about. They headed to the galley, breakfast already in full swing.

Breakfast was a normal affair. Whitey ate quickly then waited impatiently for Bee to finish her tea. Nakama wandered up to chat with Bee who greeted each person warmly, none of which surprised Whitey. Bee was known as a chatterbox.

Still, what was surprising was when Bee finally finished, she picked up her tray and motioned at Whitey. “Come on then.” Before leaving towards the kitchens. With a brow raised, Whitey followed.

Bee dumped her tray before leaving it next to a sink, which Whitey copied before she had to rush to keep up with Bee’s small steps. Whitey dodged around several chefs who were already preparing the next meal, along with cleaning up from the last. Keeping one eye firmly on Bee’s black hair as it bounced as she walked, she wondered what all this was about.

Finally, Bee came to a stop in a small corner of the kitchen, Thatch working away with his back to them.

“Hey Thatch,” Bee greeted as she rested a hand on his back as she came up to his side. “How are things going?”

“Hey Ma!” Thatch replied, happily bending to wrap a quick arm around her in a side-hug. “Good, good. Took your advice about the clean-up duties, it’s been going a lot smoother. You here to help with stock?”

“Here to watch you do stock you mean. If I get more rotten banana juice dumped on me, I’m never stepping foot in this kitchen again, mark my words.”

Thatch laughed before he turned and spotted Whitey standing here. He noticeably deflated. “Oh, hey Whitey.” The tone was a lot less excited and she glared.

Bee smacked Thatch’s arm. “Don’t be like that, Whitey wanted to see my routine.”

“I’m sure she did,” Thatch grumbled before he started to lead them away from his kitchen nook and up to a large walk-in refrigerator. Thatch held the door open and cold air struck Whitey across the face. Bee grabbed up a large jacket that was hanging nearby before zipping it up and pulling out a notepad from the pocket. The three of them went inside.

Produce lined the shelves as Thatch started mumbling to himself as he looked it over. “Alright, so—”

“Wait, wait, I’m not ready!” Bee interrupted, digging into the pocket before withdrawing a small pencil and thumbing through the pages. Hunching her shoulders, she nodded at Thatch. “Okay, go ahead.”

They ran through the stock quickly, which was good. The cold was starting to bother Whitey, and Bee was shifting foot-to-foot before they really even started. Only Thatch seemed unaffected, apparently used to it.

Once Bee handed over the notepad and said their goodbyes to Thatch and headed out of the kitchens, Whitey finally asked.

“What was that about?”

Bee hummed. “Sometimes y'all would have the same meals? Which isn’t a surprise but they didn’t have that many different sides, just bread and meat half the time. Every time we’d dock we’d get more options, vegetables and fruits and things like that before that would noticeably drop off a week or so out of port. Sometimes shorter. Crew needs more than meat and bread, you know? So I asked.

“Turns out, Thatch was having a hell of a time trying to keep track of everything. A lot of the boys in the kitchens were more dish boys or prep chefs, none really bothered keeping track of stock. So things would go bad. They tried to keep that from happening by using up everything quickly but then that leaves large stretches of time where there’s only the meat and bread left.”

Bee shrugged. “I’m not a cook or anythin’ like that. Hell, I don’t really know shit about stocking really either. But it’s nice to have someone to run stuff by. I offered and Thatch agreed, so we do it together now. Occasionally I bring up ideas for things they can make which will keep longer if something is going to go bad soon but honestly Thatch has gotten so much better already! He’s going to make an amazing head chef.”

“He isn’t already?” Whitey asked, snidely. Pops had personally asked Thatch aboard after tasting his food. Bee shot her a look from the corner of her eye.

“Thatch is a great cook, but he’s still new, still nervous about stepping on toes or doing the wrong thing, of being a disappointment. He’s young, he’ll learn. A head chef is a title, nothing more. In the eyes of his division, he’s gotta earn that title, which scares him. He doesn’t know if he’ll make a good leader yet. I don’t doubt he’ll do it, and do it well, but I don’t want to say he’s already achieved something that he hasn’t. Not when he’s been working so hard to get there. I don’t wanna cheapen his success when he finally reaches it by sayin’ he’s got it already.”

Whitey didn’t reply, mind spinning. She knew Thatch was still finding a place here, brand new as he was, but the rest she hadn’t thought of.

“Wasn’t he a chef before?” she asked. Bee laughed.

“Weren’t you a pirate before you came to this ship? You still had stuff to learn, respect to earn. A former title doesn’t mean a thing.” Bee stopped before the library before holding open the door for her. “After you.”

Stepping inside, Whitey had no idea why they were there. The ‘library’ was a small room, with a few tables set up and bookcases mostly empty. Haruta swayed on a chair, a table filled with drawings in front of him, crayons scattered around.

“H-hey Ma Bee!” he stuttered happily and Bee smiled back.

“Hey Haruta, ready for your lesson?” He nodded excitedly as Bee bent to grab a few books off a shelf.

“You’re teaching him how to read?” Whitey asked, surprised.

“Yeah. The way I was taught wasn’t the best either, luckily, I’ve picked up a few books and Haruta already knew some basics. We also work on his stutter.”

“And my lisp!” Haruta added.

“And your lisp,” Bee repeated with agreement. Whitey sat across from them as Bee took the seat next to him and they ran through several exercises.

Overall, it was boring for Whitey who watched with half-lidded eyes. However, she could see the value in such a thing. Picking through a few things on the tabletop, she found a workbook and started leafing through the pages.

“Why aren’t you working on his math?” Whitey asked looking over some problems and Bee flinched.

“Some of the other boys help him with that,” she replied.

Haruta gestured wildly with a hand, pencil wedged firmly in his grasp. “Like Izou! Sometimes Jozu. I like Jozu better he’s, n-n-n,” his face started to pinch and Bee laid a hand on his shoulder gently.

“Slow down, take a breath. It’s okay to stutter or slur the word, just work your way through it.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried again, “Nicer.” Haruta turned to Bee with a wide smile and she smiled back.

“See? You did it! You don’t have to rush yourself.”

“But why don’t you,” Whitey broke in, trying to switch back to the matter at hand. “You’re already sitting here with him.”

Bee frowned. “He needs a break, for starters. We work through his reading and writing, along with whatever voice lessons I’ve managed to read about or ask about when we go into port. That already is long enough for a ten-year-old to sit through. Not to mention his other lessons, his training with Vista, helping with the shipwrights, what have you.  His math is also better than mine, I don’t have much to teach him in that department.” Whitey raised a brow in question and Bee explained.

“My math is terrible,” she shrugged. “I can’t divide or multiply, let alone anything more complex than that. Haruta here,” she ruffled his hair and he giggled, “is already leagues above me.”

“Do you join in his math classes? You could learn a thing or two.” Haruta wrinkled his nose at Whitey and she ignored it.

“No,” Bee stated firmly. “My math skills are that bad not for lack of trying or teaching. I finished higher education for fucks’ sake,” she glared at Whitey. “A fact I’m proud of. But me attempting to better myself in an area that already has gotten enough of my tears? No thanks. For what?”

“Could be helpful for the crew,” Whitey said carefully. Bee rolled her eyes.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about pirates, is a lot of them are already mathematically inclined. Maybe they can’t read or write but they can barter or sell faster than I’ve ever seen. Trust me, this is a fact I’ve known about myself. I don’t get better, I’ve studied, taken tests, done a lot to try. It’s just not a skill that can be improved upon, let’s just leave it at that.”

The lesson finished soon after, as Bee announced two hours had passed and Haruta took off immediately. Bee (and therefore Whitey) stayed behind to clean up the mess, tucking everything away before heading out.  

This time they headed to the Medical Bay.

“Do you always do these same rounds?” Whitey asked.

“Depends, sometimes someone will ask for my help in a specific division. For a while Communications was a mess, I was in there most of the day.”

“Why’s that?”

“No one was keeping track of anything!” Bee burst out her voice suddenly angry. “It was ridiculous. I couldn’t believe it. Did you know an island asked for aid twice in one month?”

Whitey stopped them and leaned against a wall in the hallway they had been traveling down. “What do you mean? So?”

“So,” Bee began, obviously getting riled up, “after I looked into it, this same island had been asking for supplies and money several times each month, each time asking a different person in the division. The chain of command here is so fucked, they were basically robbing us.” She suddenly dropped her eyes. “Or well, you guys. You know what I mean.”

“What happened after that?” Whitey needled, intrigued. She hadn’t heard about this.

“I spoke to Eddie,” Whitey’s eyes widened at the nickname before Bee continued, “told him what was going on. He asked me what I thought should happen. I worked with the division to create a more effective system. We put in some standard operating procedures, how things need to be discussed with the Division Commander before money is sent, in what situations a double supply run would be necessary, stuff like that.”

She took a breath, her words almost bumping into each other in her haste. “Which also led into what happens when someone goes on a mission, where they report, what gets done. I helped with mission reports so we could keep track.”

Ah, that Whitey had heard about. The news had kicked up a major fuss, wanting each division to log their people’s coming and goings, when someone went on a mission, what happened, etc. Pops had stood firm, even when people had complained that they weren’t the Navy, Pops! None of it mattered, Pops hadn’t budged and his word was final.

In the end, Whitey could admit it made things smoother—better. Duty days were nicer when you actually knew who was on leave and who was just avoiding a watch. Mission reports were easier now, instead of having to remember which crewmembers had left and for how long and what they did, now it was all on a piece of paper.

“Clever,” Whitey commented and Bee gave her a small grin, looking up at her through her eyelashes.

“It’s not much and I know a lot of the boys don’t like it but sometimes it’s worth it to do things that are painful. Once it becomes commonplace, it’ll be easy.” Bee side-stepped Whitey to keep walking and she followed slowly.

Their Medical Bay was barren, only one large room with several cots laying out, an ‘operating’ room in the back. Privately, Whitey always hoped that if she became injured enough to need that room, she’d die before they got her back on the ship. There weren’t that many doctors on the crew, not yet. All they had were men who vaguely knew how to sew stitches and—

“Marco!” Bee called into the empty room and there was shuffling noise before a nearby closest door burst open, spilling Marco out, his large wings flapping to keep him upright.

“Hey Ma!” 

Whitey groaned. “Does everyone call you that?” she asked.

Marco smiled at Whitey and she almost growled back. Bee went over to Marco’s side and started fussing over him, having him lift a foot as she bent to unwound a coil of bandages that somehow had wrapped around his leg.

“No,” Bee answered. “Just some of the boys like it. They asked me about it and it doesn’t really bother me.”

“She’s the best mom on the ship!” Marco replied sticking out his tongue at Whitey. “Nothing like you.”

“I don’t want to be your mom,” she hissed back.

“Good, you’d make a terrible one, yoi.”

“Marco.” Bee said and he shut his mouth easily enough. She straightened and started brushing Marco’s shoulders as she tsked. “What have you been doing dear? You’re so dusty.”

Marco seemed to puff up under the attention. “Cleaning! You said to organize the supplies!”

“I told you to do that after you finished studying,” Bee corrected lightly. “Have you been studying?”

“Yup!” Marco answered easily. “Need your help! Been waitin’ for you to show up.”

“Alright then, let’s run it through.”

“So now you’re a medical expert?” Whitey broke in and both turned to look at her with surprise, obviously forgetting her presence.

“No, I just help with flashcards,” Bee answered as Marco snickered.

“I’ll get the radio, yoi!” he said before rushing away as Bee settled onto a cot. She gestured to one nearby.

“Might as well get settled, if he wants the radio it means we’re going to be down here for a while.”

It was an understatement.

Marco was a cad, soaking in Bee’s attention. He got a station playing on low, propped his head up in Bee’s lap, and made himself right at home. They went through several stacks of flashcards.

Whitey had the sneaking suspicion that Marco played dumb for things he knew the answer to, as if to prolong the lesson. He even tried to get Bee to read aloud from a textbook of his, but Ma it helps, really it does! As Bee laughed at him and refused, saying she wouldn’t be able to pronounce all the medical terms. They compromised with a book on navigation instead.

They went until the lunch bell rang and even then, Marco tried to convince Bee to stay longer. She waved him off, promising they could study more later, and hustled Whitey out the door, towards the galley.

Along the way they were stopped several times as shipmates found Bee and chatted. Whitey had always seen Bee talking along corridors and out on deck. She never bothered to listen in. Now that she was forced to, she realized that most of the conversations weren’t just shooting the shit as she had assumed. Instead, they were actually filled with little updates, nakama letting Bee know that they finished such or such task, were freshly back from a mission, where the ship was heading to next, that sort of thing.

Bee was supportive and engaged until they moved on and the next person popped up. Occasionally there were a few conversations that were more run-of-the-mill things that Whitey would have expected, random tidbits or small talk questions.  

What was unexpected was the few that came up to proudly show off some sort of hobby. An embroidered vest pocket was one of the stranger ones. Whitey waited until that crewmate had wandered off and they finally reached the galley where the loud chattering of the crew mostly masked their conversation before she asked.

“What was that about?”

“Hm?” Bee asked, distracted as she craned her neck above the crowd, looking for something. Finally, she managed to catch Pops’ eye and she waved with a large smile before focusing back on grabbing her food.

“The embroidery.”

“Oh! He mentioned wanting pretty things but feels guilty about buying them. Apparently, he sends a lot of his money back home, I mentioned he could make his own things if he wanted. It’s cheaper that way. We discussed a couple options and he tried a few things before landing on that. He’s come a long way! He was shy about it at first but others have gotten interested so he’s becoming more comfortable.”

“I see,” Whitey said but it didn’t appear like Bee even heard her, as she quickly ducked her way through the gathered crowd to rush to Pops’ side leaving Whitey behind.

She grimaced but followed. This wouldn’t be a conversation she was looking forward to.

Bee was already talking by the time Whitey came up and glared at the man seated on Pops’ other side before he hurriedly gave up his seat for her.

Pops sat at the very end of the table, Bee on his ride side, now directly across from Whitey, her hands gesturing as she spoke a mile a minute as Pops looked down at her fondly. His light brown eyes flickered to Whitey.

“Heard you’ve been accompanying our little Bee here, Whit.”

“S’not a bit deal,” Whitey defended herself against the implied accusation she heard in the statement. “I just wanted to see what Bee did around here is all.”

Bee started shoving salad into her mouth as Pops chuckled. The meal passed uneventfully, even though Vista caught her eye at some point and winked.

Now that she had been told about Pops’ feelings, she supposed she should have picked up on it sooner. It was obvious now that Whitey was aware of it. The attention Pops paid Bee, the way he leaned in to listen to her, it all told a story.

When was the first chapter? Whitey wondered. That first meeting, or was it sometime after? They were so absorbed in each other yet whenever nakama would come up to interrupt both easily stopped their conversation to listen and comment.

Is this what parents were like? Ever since Bee had come aboard she had really only spoken to Pops one-on-one, avoiding both when they were together. She wasn’t interested in ‘getting to know Bee’ or anything like that. But now seeing the way they both responded to Pops’ children, Whitey wondered if this wasn’t the real reason the ‘Ma’ nickname was spreading through the crew like wildfire. Everyone seemed equally happy to listen to Bee offer commentary as when Pops did. In fact, on one occasion while Pops was talking to Jozu someone else interrupted and Bee smoothly redirected Pops’ attention back to Jozu, who hadn’t finished his thought.

Parents were never this kind, Whitey decided, after watching them and the way they navigated around each other.

Sometime during lunch, Marco wandered over to their table and squeezed in between Bee and Pops. Bee easily made room while Pops laughed.

“Ma, Ma, don’t forget you’re supposed to help me still, yoi!” Marco said in between mouthfuls of food.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Bee replied.

Pops stuck a finger into Marco’s side, making him lurch with a laugh, spewing even more food.

“Eddie!” Bee reprimanded, handing Marco a napkin.

“Now son, I haven’t seen our little Bee all day, you can get her tomorrow.”

“Aw but I wasn’t done! How am I supposed to be a doctor like this!?” Marco complained. Whitey snorted as she leaned against a hand, elbow on the table.

Pops sighed loudly. “You can just heal people, son.”

“But not everything! I still gotta know how to do other stuff! How can I call myself a doctor otherwise, yoi?”

“He’s also learning navigation,” Bee pointed out.

“Yeah Pops!”

Whitebeard rolled his eyes. “You can study with her tomorrow, or later tonight. I think the Captain deserves a little time too.” He winked at Bee who ducked her head with a pleased smile.

Marco opened his mouth to argue some more before Whitey broke in before he could. “Give it a rest why don’t you bird brain,” she said, boredom laced through the words.

As she expected, Marco immediately got distracted as he focused on her and started bitching. Bee and Pops shared a look over his head before the both of them smiled, a secret shared between the two of them.

After lunch, Whitey lingered at Bee’s side as she quickly made her way through the ship.

“You don’t have to come?” Bee said over her shoulder looking up at Whitey who shrugged.

“You’re just gonna talk to Pops right? I can come along. Why aren’t you heading up on deck?”

“I’m grabbing a book!”

That explained it. Bee was an avid reader; Whitey swore that half the books in the library were because of her and she hadn’t even been there that long.

She leaned against their shared room’s doorframe as Bee went inside and started looking around. “Why even bother if you’re just going to talk to Pops?”

“Sometimes he gets distracted,” Bee answered, not bothering to look up from her search. “Or someone will come up with ship-related stuff so I’ll just read until they leave. Ah-ha!” Triumphally pulling out a book she held it aloft for a second before hustling out the door, Whitey stepping aside to let her by before falling into step beside her.

“Don’t you have your hands in everything on the ship? Why does it matter if it’s ship-related or not.” Bee shot her a look before she stopped walking abruptly.

“Do you have a problem?” Bee asked and Whitey crossed her arms.

“I’m just asking a question.”

Bee narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. “I don’t know shit about navigation nor with anything to do with battle plans or with the weapons division. That’s why you haven’t seen me hanging around your division, not that you would like me being there even if I was only looking around.” Weapons were Whitey’s area of expertise. “Look, you don’t like me, fine whatever. But if you have a problem, we can address it now, rather than let it fester until I leave.”

Focusing on the very tail end of that, she asked, “Are you leaving?” A sudden dread filled her stomach at the thought.

Pressing a finger to her bottom lip, Bee chewed on it in thought before releasing it. “I know I won’t be around here forever, whenever Edward decides it’s been long enough, I’ll leave without a fuss.”

“That so?” Anxiety knitted her brow and she blocked Bee who tried to walk around her. “What about if Pops wanted you to stay?”

Bee raised an eyebrow, attempting to step around her. “Not sure why he would, I’m not a pirate.” She sighed. “Do you mind?” Whitey was still blocking her path.

“Neither was Toki,” Whitey pointed out. Even if Bee hadn’t ever met Oden and his family, she knew who they were, the crew mentioned them often enough.

“Toki wasn’t a part of the crew, Oden was,” Bee said as if Whitey wasn’t aware. Finally, she managed to dodge around her and hurried down the hall. Easily Whitey kept up with her.

“Don’t think that mattered to Pops—” Bee was walking up a flight of stairs when she turned to look down at Whitey, a glare freezing enough to cut her off.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said darkly. Whitey sighed but said nothing and they continued up.

Once they made it onto the top deck, Bee made a beeline (Whitey chuckled under her breath at the thought) to Pops’ chair. Clambering up, Pops was quick to wrap a hand around her waist as she made herself comfortable on his lap.

Whitey watched from a distance, far enough away to not be able to overhear but she wanted to watch them for once. She never had before.

It was about as disgusting to watch as she expected. Sickening sweet as the two smiled at each other and the gooey looks Pops shot her when she had her face turned away.

“You see it now, hm?” Vista asked as he slotted up to her side. Whitey blanched as Pops grabbed Bee up, bringing her close to his face and rubbing his moustache on her as she shrieked.

“Not sure how I missed it, to be frank, they’re so obvious.”

“You didn’t want to see it,” Vista said simply.

She hummed. “Maybe not. Bee thinks Pops will ask her to leave, how blind is she?”

“Love makes fools of us all.” Whitey huffed.

“Not me.”

Vista smiled at her. “Give it time, you never know.”

Whitey shot one last look at the picture they made, Pops now holding her up as she braided small braids into his hair, using the tail of one to swipe at his cheek now and then, the looks they were shooting each other full of love and longing.

“Maybe.”

Whitey waited impatiently outside of Pops’ room. It was late, as it usually was. He liked to stay up to drink with his sons. Finally, she heard the familiar stomping of his boots and she stopped her pacing.

“Whit,” Pops greeted calmly before opening his door.

“Pops,” she replied, following him in. “Got something to say to you, if you’ve got a minute.”

“Sure, sure, always time for my favorite daughter.”

“I’m your only daughter.”

He flicked on the lights and the familiar sight of his room made her smile. Pearls hung down the wall behind his bed, long strands of every color imaginable a pearl can be. They were different shapes and sizes, some lumpier than others. A pearl for every child of Whitebeard. She couldn’t wait to see the room in a few years’ time, how much the walls would be covered, how he would manage to squeeze them all in.

"Perhaps." 

Whitey rolled her eyes. "Don't act like Bee is going to be like another daughter to you, we both know it's more than that." Pops chuckled.

"I was referring to Toki, but you have a point," he conceded. "Did you need something?" 

She steeled her spine as she straightened. "Wanted to tell you Pops that I approve of you asking Bee to become part of the crew." 

Pops raised a brow at her in question as he sat on the edge of his bed. She placed both hands on her hips. "I was shadowing her today—" 

"I saw," Pops rumbled with a smile. 

"—and she does more for the crew than I originally gave her credit for," she finished. 

"She fits in well, as I said," Pops agreed with a nod. "I'm happy you can see it too." 

Whitey frowned. "I still think taking a civilian is a big risk for the crew, just to be clear." 

"We have literal children onboard m'dear." 

"If someone finds out how much you care for her, they could use her against you." 

"I care for all my children, anyone could do that for any of them."

"I meant," Whitey says, tone hard, "the fact that you love her, Pops." 

He tensed and she rushed on before he could argue, "When are you going to tell her? Before or after you ask her to join the crew?" she echoed the question Thatch asked yesterday. 

The air crackled between them, tense and heavy before his shoulders relaxed and he huffed. "When did you get so brave, hm?" 

"You've taught me well." 

"I've got a bunch of brats, you mean." Pops sighed as he reached down to kick off his boots. "Not sure," he said in answer to her question. "What do you think would be better?" 

Whitey scoffed. "I'm not giving you love advice, Pops." 

"No?" He grinned. "A shame. I could use it." 

She thought about the way Bee looked at him, the devotion she saw in her brown eyes, and Whitey shook her head. "Nah, I don't think so. I'm gonna hit the sack, get some rest too you hear?" 

Stepping forward, she brushed a quick kiss against his forehead as he muttered. "Not a child, don't need to be tucked into bed like one." She rolled her eyes. 

"Oh please, Pops. Would you give Bee this much trouble?" 

"Is this going to be a theme with you? Not sure I like the attitude." 

Whitey grinned, the edge of it sharp and pointed. "I think you're just going to have to deal with it, old man." 

Even if she might have a slight, grudging respect for Bee now, that didn't mean that she had to stop feeling bitter about the rest of it. She might be happy for Pops but that didn't alleviate the pain that his refusal to have more daughters caused her, the lack she felt at being the only one. 

The way she felt alone sometimes, even when she was surrounded by others, the lonely only daughter of Whitebeard. 

"What's all this about?" Bee asked, utterly baffled as the boys gathered around her, trying to keep in their giggles as they basically dragged her down a hall. For a moment, she wondered what the point of all this was. Some sort of prank? But it was so blatant. Usually, they tried to be more clever (or at least, when they bothered. She had made it very clear that she would only tolerate certain pranks/jokes).

Directing her in front of a room, Marco was there waiting, looking excited and proud, his body practically vibrating. “Ma! Good you’re here, yoi.”

“Here for what?” She shook off several of the hands that had been pushing her forward.

“This!” Marco announced as he threw open the door. Bee flinched, expecting something to jump out. When nothing did, she slowly took a step inside. She felt Marco rush in behind her before slamming the door shut.

It was just a small room with a single large chest in the middle and nothing else. Looking around she couldn’t imagine what on earth they were in here for.

“Marco, what—”

“Open the chest!” he interrupted with a large smile. He held the knob with his hands behind his back, bracing against the door as loud knocking thudded across the wood.

Bee folded her arms and tapped her foot. His smile turned a little pleading. “Aw, Ma, it’s not a prank I promise. They just wanted to be included but we can’t all squeeze in here. I know that would make you anxious, yoi.”

The thought alone made her shiver. She hated crowds especially in cramped spaces. “Alright, thank you for the thought.”

A loud bang made him jolt against the door. “Maybe make it quick?” he offered and she shook her head before crouching before the chest.

It was a struggle just to open the thing, the lid was so heavy. As she lifted the top up, she tried to hold on to keep it from slamming but halfway through gravity took over and she dropped it, causing a bang against the floor. Bee flinched at the noise before the sight before her made her gasp.

The chest was completely filled with pearls. Heart in her throat, she held a hand over her mouth in surprise. She glanced over her shoulder at Marco who beamed back at her.

“Pops wants you to join the crew!”

Shakily she dropped her hand. “I’m not a pirate though I don’t—”

“You’re plenty helpful, yoi!” Marco argued. “The whole crew agreed.”

She highly doubted that, thinking of a certain blue-haired pirate. Marco read her thoughts immediately.

“Even Whitey, yoi.” Bee shot him a disbelieving look and he grinned. “I swear! Told Pops and everythin’.”

Glancing back at the pearls she ran a hand over them, feeling the smooth texture across her palm. She dipped her fingers in, before wiggling to just watch them roll across one another.

“You gotta pick at least two, but there’s no limit.”

“No limit? What, so I can take the whole chest?”

Bee didn’t need to see him to hear the smile in his voice. “Yup! Someone did that before, we have more chests hidden around.”

“I see.” Moving the pearls around slowly she spotted a black pearl, not her normal preference, and was about to let it roll away when her skin caught on it in a weird way. Picking it up she examined it. It was carved with the shape of a whale along with smaller patterns decorated the surface.

The sight of it made her smile and she clenched her left hand around it. For no reason at all, she started digging, just to feel the pearls move along her hand and to hear them click against each other. Something large and white caught her attention and she unearthed it. It was a larger than average pearl, almost the span of her palm slightly flat. For some reason, it called to her and she stood.

“Done already?” Marco asked. “You can always take more time, Ma.”

“Nah, I’m good. What happens now?”

“Now we go to Pops!”

On the way over, everyone who had gathered outside the door followed, wanting to see the pearls Bee picked. They were passed around and, as they approached Whitebeard’s door, she couldn’t stop smiling, the edges of it hurting her cheeks.

Whitey Bay stood waiting outside of the door and their little precession stopped abruptly. Someone handed her back the pearls—she thought it might be Thatch—before Whitey sighed.

“Just wanted to welcome you to the crew,” she explained airily. There was a meaningful cough from the crowd and Whitey scowled before she met Bee’s eyes. “Ma,” she said, a little disgruntled.

Bee blinked and then she couldn’t help it, she burst into laughter. Walking forward she grabbed Whitey up for a brief hug. The other woman didn’t have much time to react before she pulled back, not wanting to push her luck.

“Thank you, Whitey. You don’t gotta call me that, just Bee is fine.”

Whitey sighed with relief. “Thanks, they forced me.” She waved her hand towards the crowd behind Bee.  

“She’s a good ma!” Someone called out and Whitey snorted before she looked down at Bee. They shared a look before bursting out into laughter.

“Better get goin’, I’ve been hearing Pops pacing in his room. If you keep him waiting, he might just break down the door,” Whitey whispered and Bee nodded.

“Okay, got it.”

Whitey squeezed her hand before giving her a small smile. “Good luck, Ma.” Immediately she scowled as the crowd exploded into cheers. “Shut up!”

“You said it, we all heard it!”

Quickly, Bee slipped away and opened the door before she could get caught up. Closing it behind herself, she made sure to lock it before turning.

Whitebeard was standing, looking very much like she caught him mid-pace. She cracked a smile and he chuckled at himself before taking a seat on his bed.

“Little one,” he greeted with an affectionate rumble. “What’s going on out there?”

The ruckus could be heard from inside, although muffled by the door. 

“Ah,” she shrugged a shoulder. “Whitey called me Ma.” Eddie’s eyebrows rose in surprise before he laughed.

The tremor of it shook the walls and made her heart lurch with fondness. She loved his laugh, loved how each one he put his whole body into, leaning back his head and how his moustache and hair shook with it.

When it ended, he opened his eyes to stare at her before offering a hand. She took it gently, allowing him to tug her closer.

He smiled down at her. “You know,” Whitebeard began, “one of those pearls is supposed to go to me.”

“Supposed to?” she echoed with a cocked brow. She knew how this worked, the pearls in his room explained it well enough. “Are you saying you don’t want one?” He chuckled.

“Not that I don’t want one, just...” He hesitated. Strange. Bee had never seen him hesitate before. “I just need to be sure it’s what you want.”  

Bee stared at him, confused. “Want to what? Be on the crew? I won’t be able to do much but—” Eddie sighed, agitated before a large hand brushed against her face and the rest of her sentence died in her throat as a thumb tilted her chin up.

She was still trying to work through what was happening when he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. It was such a simple thing, just his slightly chapped lips on hers, the brush of his facial hair sweeping against her face.

Her heart pounded so hard, her body shook with it. Unable to respond, the kiss was short-lived as he drew back, opening his eyes to look at her. The honey-brown of them held her captive as she gaped.

“To be on the crew, sure. But mostly if you’d want to be with me.” His eyes darkened with promise and all the blood rushed to her head as she tried to work out exactly what he meant.

“Wait, hold on I don’t, uh,” she stumbled over her words as the hand that was holding hers wrapped around her back and pulled her closer. Standing between his spread legs, his large frame looming over her, Bee didn’t feel fear. Instead, it was just a lot of uncertainty and anxiety, hope and doubt equally at odds with each other.

“Don’t? You don’t?” Eddie repeated, gaze intense. Trying to buy some time, Bee reached out and slapped a hand over his eyes. Trying to catch her breath, she stood there as he froze beneath her hand. “…Bee?” he finally questioned.

“I’m processing, hold on.”

There was a brief silence.

“Can I—”

“Shhh! No.” Tucking the pearls in her other hand into her pants pocket she took a second to admire him. “Keep your eyes closed,” she instructed as she pulled her hand away.

Edward huffed but did as she said. Slowly she trailed her fingers up the sides of his face. Brushing across his eyebrows and lightly against his blonde eyelashes.

“Can I look now or—” he asked, peeking at her through one scrunched-up eye. Bee covered it.

“No, I’m still processing.”

He hummed. The hand, still a warm presence on her back, put a bit of pressure on her, indicating he would like to push her closer but it was light enough she could stand her ground if she wanted. She didn’t budge.

Releasing his eye, she ran her hands down to his moustache and went to touch it when he suddenly turned to the side and pressed a kiss against one hand. She frowned and with the other hand tugged at a bit of his hair.

“Hey mister, I’m still processin’ here.”

Edward chuckled. “Are you? Seems to me you’re just wasting time.”

“Keep up that attitude and I’ll leave,” she threatened. He sighed but relented, settling back down.

One hand still in his hair, she buried it deeper while with the other she grabbed onto his chin. Tilting his head to the side, she started laying little kisses against his cheek, and he sighed again, this time sounding relieved.

Luckily, he kept his eyes closed as her hands directed his movements, laying kisses all across his face: his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his brow line.

Gathering her courage, she fisted a hand in his long hair before tilting her head and bringing their lips together at last.

Immediately the hand at her back tightened and he didn’t waste any time bringing her body closer, as if the thread of his patience had finally been broken. He groaned into her mouth before her feet left the ground as his arm picked her up.

Bee yelped in surprise, trying to pull away but Edward’s lip chased hers and once again caught them in another searing kiss. Somehow both her hands got tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as he deepened the kiss, a hot swipe of tongue against her lips.

Opening her mouth, she felt like Edward was trying to devour her. Surrounded by the entirety of him, there was nowhere to go, there was simply him.

Gasping for breath she finally succeeded in pulling away, panting into the space between them. Edward rested his forehead against her as he grinned.

“So, what was your answer?” he asked cheerfully.

“That wasn’t answer enough!?” Bee shot back with another tug at his hair. He threw his head back in a laugh before gathering her further up towards his face as he nuzzled into her.

“Careful,” he mumbled, voice dark with promise. “Keep pulling on my hair and I might end up liking it too much.” Eddie turned his head to look up at her with a large smile. She huffed and started to wiggle.

“Ha ha very funny, let me down, Edward.”

“Ah little Bee, I just love teasing you, you know that.”

“S’not that funny,” she grumbled.

He straightened and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “I love you,” he confessed lowly, pulling back to look her in the eye. “I want you to stay here with me, with my family. I know you’re not a pirate and I don’t give a damn. We’ll train you up a bit and it might be a hard life, with scary moments. I can’t change the kind of life I live.

“However, as long as you’re with me? I’ll protect you with my life, that I can promise you. The whole crew would as well, that I have no doubt of.” Edward ran a revenant thumb across her cheek, achingly gentle. “But only if you wanted. If you didn’t want this kind of life—well, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“What, so if I wanted out, I’d get to keep my pearls and the kisses?” Bee asked, tone teasing. His eyes crinkled in a smile.

“The kisses were free.”

“Ohhh really?”

“Yes, more of a bonus for me. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” she wheedled, still joking around.

“Just in case you decided to leave, I didn’t want to let you go without kissing you at least once,” Edward answered, completely serious.

Bee’s breath left her in a whoosh. “You can’t just say shit like that, Eddie.” He raised a brow.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Who knew you were a secret romantic.”

Whitebeard rolled his eyes. “You still haven’t given me an answer,” he pointed out.

“It’s a yes. Of course it is, how could it be anything else?”

His arm squeezed her before his lips left little dots of kisses all over her face and she laughed, joy fizzling in her gut. Slowly he brought her back down to the floor and she stumbled a little when he released her, weak in the knees.

“Now about that pearl…” His eyes looked hungry and while she knew it wasn’t because of the pearl she pouted.

“What kind of confession is this? Give me some kisses and then demand payment? Rude of you.”

“It’s a promise,” Edward said, voice dark and heavy with meaning and she couldn’t help but shiver at it. “A bond. The pearl shows that you mean it, little one.”

She hummed, glaring just a little as she dug into her pocket. “I said yes already, I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Edward smiled. “I know. It’s just a physical representation, that’s all.”

“That’s all,” she repeated, just a little snottily, just to be a pain. Bee could tell how much this meant to him though and easily held out a clenched fist. “Here, I picked this one because it reminded me of you.”

Eagerly, he held out his palm and Bee dropped the pearl. It was the large white one, looking almost the size of a normal pearl in his huge hand.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.”

She couldn’t resist rolling her eyes, Eddie saw probably more pearls than most people saw in their entire lives. But the earnestness in his voice kept her from saying anything. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and tilted her head up.

Catching on what she wanted immediately, Whitebeard leaned down to kiss her again. And again, and again. A whirlwind of kisses, hugs, and muttered promises somewhere in-between, as they got lost in each other.

“Edward,” Bee announced loudly, her hands on her hips as she faced him on the deck days later. “Why have you taken my pearl hostage?”

“Hostage?” he repeated, cheek propped on a fist, in his normal chair. “What makes you say that?”

Her nose flared, not buying his act for a second. “I asked for it to be made into a necklace and I haven’t gotten it back yet. When I asked they said you had it.”

Pearls were made into jewelry, standard fare for the Whitebeard Pirates. Edward tried—and failed—to look innocent.

“Now there must be some mistake, I didn’t—”

“Edward,” she cut him off, expression clouded as her brow furrowed with displeasure. “Where is my necklace.”

He sighed before he patted his lap. Begrudgingly she came closer and he snatched her up, positioning her himself, leaving her grumbling at the treatment.

“I was hoping this would be a surprise to have in my cabin, not out on deck,” Edward started as he dug into his pocket.

Immediately her expression cleared as she straightened. “A surprise?” Eddie knew her well enough by now that just the very mention meant it was as good as ruined, she wouldn’t wait to get whatever it was.

“Your necklace.” He dangled the carved black pearl on a silver chain in front of her and she snapped it up greedily before looking it over. It didn’t look any different than what she was expecting and she looked up at him with confusion.

Eddie shrugged a shoulder. “Put it on, the surprise is next.”

Bouncing with excitement, she unclasped it before reclasping it around her neck. She was almost tempted to ask Edward for help but with his large hands it would take forever and impatience already tugged at her.

Once it was settled, she peered up at him and he looked a little awkward before holding out a fist. “It’s not really for you,” Edward attempted to warn.

Already she was tugging at his fingers, “Lemme see!”

With another sigh he unfurled his fingers, leaving a gleaming silver ring settled in the middle of it. She grabbed it before turning it over in her hands and she gasped. The white pearl she had picked for him was laid in the ring.

“It’s my pearl!” A hesitant hand curled around her back.

“I wasn’t sure if it was presumptuous of me—”

“Because it’s a ring? Why would it bother me? Put it on, lemme see what it looks like!”

He grimaced, the hand that was around her back sliding away to accept the ring back. There was a slight pause before he quickly slipped it onto the ring finger of his left hand.

Bee blinked a few times before she took his hand into both of hers to stare at it.

“I can change it, if it bothers you—”

“I love it,” she whispered, interrupting his thought.

Edward heaved a relieved sigh. “Do you?”

“Yeah I…I really do.” A warm kiss was pressed against her temple, the silent vow hanging heavy between them. “You’ll keep it there, right?” she asked.

“I will,” Edward breathed. Bee raised her face to his and they sealed the promise with a kiss.