#if you follow for ouat please dont worry thats also simmering

[o-wild-west-wind]

Summary: A flower is never just a flower when Stede’s involved—and budding love can make a florist even of a pirate.

A series of vignettes in which Ed learns some flowery language, and the moments in which he practices speaking it. Pure fluff and indulgence, because we can.

Rating: M (language, mostly)

*****

“And the genus Narcissus —comprised of the common daffodil—see here, they come in all sorts of colors—well, they’ll bloom early on in the spring, and so they tend to symbolize rebirth and, and…renewal, I suppose? New beginnings. But, of course, the name alone also implies selfishness. And then color plays a role all unto itself—the white variety, for example, may symbolize purity. And so when combined with this understanding of narcissism, you can imply a more complex meaning; perhaps a desire for transformation—to move away from the ego, for example, and reinvent yourself into a life of virtue, of good.”

“Huh…fascinating. What if it’s blue?”

“Oh, Ed, daffodils can’t be blue!”

“So what is that, then?”

“Oh, this?” Stede points to the opposite page, a subtle reverence as he runs a thumb over the swath of petals. “This is something else entirely. The genus Iris. You know, blue is actually quite rare to find in the natural world—ironic, isn’t it, when we’re surrounded by the blue of the sea and the sky all day long, as if nature is nothing but blue?—but, anyway…because it’s so rare, anything blue tends to be held in high regard.

“Now, the iris happens to be named for the Greek goddess of the rainbow, supposedly a messenger between the realms of the mortal and the divine. If you give an iris to someone—well, they’d better be someone that means something to you. Perhaps a loved one who has died, who you may want to help pass into the next world…or, or perhaps just someone you want to celebrate your love with? And if it’s blue—that will symbolize faith, and hope. A blue iris…well, a blue iris is something you’d give to someone you love as a reminder to keep their chin up. Someone you don’t want to lose hope…someone you’re trying to tell that things aren’t as dark as they seem.”

“Huh. That’s a lot of stuff for a flower, eh?

“Oh! And you know what’s fun about the iris?” He turns to Ed, a vibrant zeal in the crinkle of his eyes. “Look here!”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s got a beard! Like you!"

“Hm. That’s a beard?”

“Yes! Well— some irises have beards, in any case. That’s one of their variations, but they’re the ones you’ll more commonly find in your—”

“That doesn’t look like a beard, mate.”

“Well, you do have to look outside the box a little with these things, you know. Like—like constellations, right? How Canis Minor is nothing but two stars in the sky, and yet we still call it the ‘Little Dog?’”

“I don’t really get that one either.” He raises a brow, and he meets Stede’s eager eye before he flickers his own back to the page. “But, yeah…okay, yeah, I can see it now. That round-looking thing, down on the bottom half?”

“Yes, that’s it!”

“Huh. Flowers with beards. Who knew.”

“Aren’t they just amazing?” Stede flips through the pages, lingering on each with a quiet admiration. “I do hope I’m not boring you with this, Ed. I know they’re not everyone’s cup of tea. Especially…well—”

“Boring me? Hell, this is the opposite of boring. I wanna know more.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, you think I get to see flowers and shit all the time out here? Nah—this is a novelty, mate.” What he doesn’t tell Stede is that he couldn’t tell a rose from a rhododendron, and he honestly couldn’t have cared less; but who is he to stop a man whose passion is so contagious, that now he’s beginning to see beards in flowers, too? “Now, what I want to know is, you know, all these flowers have all these nice, happy meanings—what if you don’t want to be nice? What if you want to give a good ‘fuck you,’ you know?”

Stede’s eyes crinkle at the edges again—that mischievous sort of look he gets as if he’s about to commit some sort of sin, and then comes out with something so innocuous that he’s suddenly even more innocent than he was before. “Oh, there are definitely ways you could tell someone to piss off with a bouquet.”

Ed smiles. “Nice.”

“Let me see…ah. Here we go: wolfsbane—quite a pretty thing in purple, but it’s actually an omen of danger, and death!”

“Wolfsbane…”

“Yes, sometimes used to ward off wolves—it’s quite poisonous.”

“I like that one…that can be my flower.”

“You’re not—” Stede looks him over for a second, his forehead wrinkled by the scrunch of his eyebrows. “Oh. Well, maybe…shouldn’t it be the opposite, though?”

“How do you mean?”

“You seem like an omen at first, but you’re actually—actually…well.” He clears his throat. “Anyway. Yes, wolfsbane is a…a neat one…oh!” He flips the page, eyes wide once again. “The carnation is interesting. It all depends on the color. If it’s red, for example, it means love—most red things do, really—but if it’s yellow, you can imply to someone that you’re disappointed in them.”

“Okay…okay, nice. So we’ve got flowers that mean death and disappointment. What else?”

“The horseshoe geranium,” Stede starts with a coy smile, “is for telling someone they’re stupid.”

“Aw, that’s a good one.”

“And I haven’t told you my personal favorite yet!”

“What’s that?”

“Lilium bulbiferum , or the orange lily. A beautiful specimen to say ‘fuck you,’ in the simplest of terms.”

“Shit. Shit, I can send flower hate-mail. This is awesome.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Damn…who knew flowers were so fun?”

“Yes— yes! Thank you, you get it!”

“Okay, what about…” Ed puts a finger to the sketch on the open page, an elegant flush of layered red petals, “this one?”

“This? This is a type of rose…but I suppose you wouldn’t have seen it out here, would you?”

“Nope. What’s it mean?”

“This one,” Stede brushes his fingers across the page, carelessly bumping them into Ed's own, “means ‘I love you.’”

Read the rest on AO3.