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candied-cae · 2 years

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To Be So Lovely

Chapter 1/1 - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 1,703

Summary : One night, when Frenchie comes home, he notices Wee John acting a bit shy. Wee John had never really been taught to appreciate himself, but his lover will not let this last. It's time they had a conversation about John's insecurity, and how truly ravishing Frenchie thinks he is.

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Frenchie had finally finished his turn helping Roach scrub the dishes for the day and was making it back to his and Wee John’s shared room. He threw open the door to see John standing, probably just getting back himself from checking on the gunpowder. Frenchie noticed John often did that if he was going to be a little late getting back, he’d have run below deck to kill more time until they’d be together again. Frenchie thought it was pretty cute.

The large man turned around and smiled seeing him. And just seeing Wee John’s glowing grin would always bring his own onto Frenchie’s face. He walked further into the room, closing the door behind him, and gazed up and down the man’s body. He was a marvelous sight. Frenchie thought so every time he saw him, but after a long day, he always seemed that much more appealing to the eyes.

“There you are.” He mused at the object of his deepest affection.

Frenchie reached out to hold his massive hands and simply adore him when he caught sight of John pulling his shirt off of his body. He’d seen him do so before but wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing it for.

“You look absolutely lovely, darling” Frenchie assured as he leaned in for a kiss.

The kiss was returned but without any response. And then John retreated to the bed and attempted to tuck himself away under the blanket, even in the stifling heat of the tropics in summertime. This was also something Frenchie had noticed him doing before. Neither action made much sense to him, but it almost looked like Wee John was attempting to hide himself and his shape under the fabrics. Frenchie thought such an idea was foolish, simply because he looked too damn good to not be seen.

But now that he was thinking on it, there were other actions Wee John had taken which aroused a certain suspicion. They were kissing rather fervently one time when Frenchie moved to run his hands around John’s hips, and he could feel him go rigid. He reined himself back a bit, John relaxed back into their intimacy, and so he brushed the concern away as just a bit of timidness. It was earlier on in their relationship, after all. And, back when they’d all been marooned together, while most of the crew were stripping off their layers for a chance to bring down their temperature, John just moved to sit in the shade, completely covered. And, while it might’ve not been the exact same sort of situation, Frenchie can’t help remembering that Wee John was the only crew member Stede couldn’t fit into a fancy outfit for their terrible tea time with the English. He’d only seemed to pick at his food that evening.

Frenchie had been sure that if something was bothering John, he would’ve said so to him… but now he was wondering if there was something he’d elected to omit.

Frenchie stepped into the bed beside him, crossing his legs as he sat and looked at the man next to him,“ Why don’t you let me look at you? You always seem to try and skirt from my view when I just want to behold you.”

Wee John huffed and shook his head,“ It’s ridiculous.”

“What is?” Frenchie asked, carefully leaning closer. He wanted John to know he was really listening.

“Lovely.” Wee John quotes back to him with a roll of his eyes,” A ridiculous word for me.”

Frenchie’s face went something sour at the comment. His Wee John? Not Lovely? He’d never heard something so wrong in his whole life.

“Now, that is something I’d completely disagree with you on.”

There was a tired, or detached, laugh in John’s voice when he answered,“ Then I’d completely disagree with the working of your eyesight.”

That was the first time Frenchie had ever seen him so void. He was usually somewhere between a bright smile, cheeky remark, or wanton desire. But he looked so… small now. Like he’s been drained of any comfort and self-assurance.

“Where is this coming from, John? You must know I find you truly effervescent. A vision to be adored. A wealth of bountiful beauty to be enjoyed.” Frenchie found himself slipping into theatrics with a wide smile as he finished,” You enamor and amaze me every day.”

But Wee John didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him.

Frenchie deflated a bit as he asked again,“ You do know that, right?”

Wee John sighed before answering,” I don’t need you to kid me.”

That line hit Frenchie hard. He wasn’t kidding, not in the least. His mouth fell open in his surprise, but before he could even insist otherwise John continued.

“I know I’m a big guy. Always have been. Might think the big guy don’t get messed with, on account of him being so… but I never was the tight, chiseled, sharp kind of big, and I never was much interested with acting all manly all the time. That kind of big guy? Nobody minded him. But this kind of big guy? He’s just made to be the butt of a joke.”

“I don’t think you’re a joke.” Frenchie says honestly,” You’re wicked funny and my favorite person to laugh with, don’t get me wrong. But not to laugh at.”

Wee John blinked but still didn’t turn towards him. Frenchie shifts a little closer and says,“ You, yourself, Wee John - and your body - they are not a joke.”

“Right.” Wee John laughed to himself at the idea.

“It’s the truth,” He contested,” It’s beautiful, all of it. I love the grey and black of your hair and the way it falls over half your face when it gets tussled through a hard day. I love the shaved sides where I can run my fingers along your scalp. I love your earrings and how they reflect the light all day long, making you the easiest person to find no matter what’s happening. I love your chin and how it moves when you laugh. I love your shoulders and how they lead to your arms. Strong and inked. And how I always feel so immeasurably safe in them. I love tracing over the black drawings when I’m sleepy but can’t bring my eyes to close. I love your hands, so much bigger than mine, and how they hold me so well. Like nothing else could fit me as they do. I love your chest, the wispy hair and the softness, the striking sight of the silver barbells never leaving me un-astounded. I love your belly, so plush and warm and stunning. Its shape makes me think to take a pair of scissors to your shirt so it won’t be so well-tucked into your breeches. I love your rear-”

Frenchie had meant to go on. He could’ve gone on for hours if Wee John needed, but he cut him off.

”And if I said something stupid like that I loved helping my mother make dresses? Because sometimes she’d need to put them on me to fill the fabric so she could mend it right, and I felt pretty for just a few minutes at a time? Then you’d see the joke. Then you’d laugh.”

He said it dismissively. Like he’d already decided that any other answer couldn’t possibly come from the man kneeling beside him. All logical reason said that Frenchie enjoyed him enough despite his size and his playful attempts at softness or seeming dainty. There was nothing to believe otherwise, not against everything he’s known.

“No.” Frenchie asserted firmly. Putting a hand to his shoulder to draw his attention to his serious expression, which Wee John finally looked at, and continued,” Then I’d ask if you wanted a dress of your own sewn to fit your magnificent figure properly.”

And looking into those beautiful browns, so sure and honest… Wee John believed him. Frenchie had just pictured Wee John wearing a dress, a wish he held so quietly close to his heart he’d never spoken it before, and he didn’t laugh. He instead earnestly wanted to know if John would like to make the idea a reality.

“…Really?”, he carefully asked, still terrified that the answer might’ve just changed had Frenchie reasoned with himself and come to the conclusion the rest of the world seemed to.

But instead, he promised,“ Really. Because I find you rather pretty and it’d please me if you saw yourself that way as well.”

That sentence sent more warmth to his heart than he’s ever felt before, but there was still a lifetime of cruelty he’d been taught… he can’t really imagine feeling pretty again now that he’s aged and grown so much.

“That’s a tall order,” he admits cautiously.

“Well, while I’m not sure I could make a very nice dress for you, still getting a hang of the sewing thing, I think if we found the right person for the job…” Frenchie paused as he leaned right up to John’s pierced ear and whispered,” You’d look so absolutely lovely, you’d be forced to say so yourself.”

And with that, Wee John couldn’t keep back the shy smile that’d been tugging at his cheeks,“ That sounds… lovely.”

Frenchie drifted further in and kissed him again, but this time it was better. Less chaste, less avoidant, less closed. This kiss was more open, more trusting. It was more comfortable. Frenchie slowly ran his hand down from John’s shoulder, over his back, just ever so carefully doting on the rolls of flesh there before it came to rest on his hip. And John didn’t wince under his lips this time. With his other, he laid it on his chest and slowly moved across his collarbone as he maneuvered over himself. In no time at all, he was sitting atop John’s lap - right where he thought he belonged, he might add - when John pulled their kiss apart.

But it was no action of fear this time, instead, he drew on a mischievous grin and asked,” So, about my rear?”

Frenchie laughed himself before answering,“ Of course, darling, let’s return to such a fine subject matter, indeed.”

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