"Do you like marigolds or daffodils better?" she asks, sliding two boxed bouquets towards him. She's the only florist in the entire suburb and you can bet your arse she knows her trade like the back of her hand. This man, a stranger she's seen walk past regularly enough to recognise his face on sight but not so regularly that she's ever spoken more than a couple words to him, looks downright miserable and she hopes to fix that. He smiles, says something about marigolds, and walks off before she can shove the box into his grasp.
It goes on like that for a while. She says hello, he responds in kind or nods in acknowledgement, and they keep their distance from one another till eventually something gives. The landlord decides to put her rent up to almost sixteen hundred pounds a month and Tia knows she's got a problem on her hands.
But before she's even decided whether or not to stay in Tortuga, her mystery man brings her flowers (a bouquet he bought from her store, funnily enough) and asks if he'll go with her to a pantomime version of Pirates of Penzance at the local park. Tia thinks its sweet. Truthfully she stops caring that he's got a good twenty-five plus years on her. He's kind, gentle, treats her the way he says a lady should be treated. He's real old-fashioned about it too.
It's nice waking up and finding breakfast has already been left on her bedside drawer. It's even nicer when he proceeds to wash the dishes and tells her to just stay in bed and watch TV, that he's already finished half the housework for her. And these are just the early days.
His name lingers on her lips for entire mornings at a time and Tia can't ever say it enough. Davy Jones. Davy. Captain Jones. She cries his name into his chest when they make love in the shower. Pleads for him to finish her off once she's been dried and wrapped in a large mahogany towel. Moans it when his tongue is buried in her core and his beard teases the skin of her thighs while she rides his face and uses his nose as a pressure point.
Her name is Tia Dalma, and not once does he trip up on the pronunciation.
Tia is the woman who sold him flowers and made his lonely and bitter Valentine's Day somewhat better, who's surprised each time he opens a door for her or does something that technically barely passes his standards of human decency. Davy knows the world is fucked up. He's reminded of that fact every day when he sees yet another horrid headline in the newspaper. But just because it is doesn't mean it has to stay that way.
It's the little things he takes pleasure in. The smile on her face when she finds a bowl of cereal and fruit awaiting her. The surprise she makes vocal after discovering he's swept out her entire store and watered the plants.
He does these things because he wants to. Her responses only ever make his chest swell with pride and at no point does he ever suggest reciprocation is remotely necessary. Even if they broke up and things ended horribly, he'd still come by the store and help her trim the stems and put out her beautiful orchard displays. Davy's just a decent bloke and eventually Tia will accept that's all there is to it. He's a good selfless man who just happens to also be completely head over heels in love with her.
Likewise, Tia is happy and goddamn anyone who seeks to ruin that, she decides. Even her own inner cynic can go jump off a cliff if it tries to destroy what they have. At the Sunday open-air markets, she purchases a stall space and sells her flowers alongside his carved wooden trinkets. Davy helps tie her dreadlocks back when her hands are full, and he adjusts the skirts of her dresses whenever they ride up and gets caught in her underwear.
"I love you," he says, whenever he can.
Tia never has to think about saying it back because once that nagging voice in the back of her mind is silenced, it becomes second nature. "And I you, Davy Jones."
"So who's breaking up with Jack Sparrow today?" he asks, and reaches across the bench for her list of jobs. Today is a good day, he thinks, not unlike the day before and the day before that. Someone's ordered a bouquet of flowers that Tia says translates to 'fuck you, you fucking fuck' and Davy can't wait to begin helping her prep it. "Or is Norrington the one on the receiving end today?"
"Davy?"
He leans down and kisses her, drawing all her attention to him, and silently pleads for midday to be here already so he can take her out back to the kitchen. "Hmm?"
"Thank you."
A/N: Written for Trope Bingo Round 10: AU - Other.