Oh, look, a story that's not dead :D

Unfortunately, while I do have a lot of ideas for this story, none of them are for the time before Ace learns to crawl. That, combined with lack of time and a few other things, resulted in this story being pushed to the side for a while. Sorry, I'll try not to take so long to update next time.

Beta-read by Aerle :)

Protecting the Young

Amongst the many preparations and arrangements the crew had made for baby Ace, nobody had stopped to give a second thought to the little detail of the periodical attacks they were subjected to. The attacks themselves were some of the events the crew looked forward to the most, that was something Rouge had learned early on, but a battle was no place for a baby.

Ace was two months old and Rouge was stretched out on a blanket on deck, helping him stretch his legs with some exercises a nurse had taught her in the last island they stopped at, when the guys on watch spotted a fleet of pirate ships approaching the Moby Dick.

"Guess that explains the calm," Marco commented dryly from a nearby deck chair. He pulled a piece of scrap paper out of a pocket, used it to mark his spot on the book he had been reading, and stood up.

Instead of joining the eager preparations —Rouge had been six months into her pregnancy the last time anyone had dared to attack them and this time there appeared to be enough enemies for everybody on board the Moby Dick to have a go at them— Marco approached her.

"We should go to a more covered area before we're in firing range," he suggested, and Rouge nodded.

She didn't particularly like the idea of depriving Marco of the chance to have fun, because for all that he was so laid back and intellectually inclined, Rouge knew he enjoyed a good fight as much as everyone else here did. But this wasn't about Rouge. No matter how capable a fighter she was, she preferred the idea of not being alone. Because this was about Ace's safety, and she wasn't going to refuse any help offered in keeping him safe, much less Marco's. Whitebeard may be the strongest person in the crew —in the world, perhaps, now— but Marco had unarguably the best defense out of everybody here.

Rouge stood up, cradling Ace in her arms, and waited for Marco to collect the blanket and the handful of toys strewn around before following him to a more covered corner deeper into the deck, a place from which they had a good view of the battle.

Rouge couldn't find it in herself to be surprised when Ace proved he was delighted by the explosions.

Once the battle was over, it was decided that from now on, whenever there was an attack, Whitebeard and Marco would take turns to stay out of things and sit with Rouge and Ace to watch.

It took Rouge maybe a few days to notice.

The first time she noticed it, she thought she had misunderstood. She had only heard part of the conversation, after all, so it was a likely possibility that it was part of a joke she wasn't privy to.

The second time, she just blinked, wondered for a moment what was going on, shook her head, and promptly forgot about it.

By the fifth time, it was too bizarre to ignore.

Rouge was eating breakfast while Thatch fed Ace his second bottle for the meal. The conversation down the table had been growing in intensity, one of those exchanges that had the potential to end up in blows.

"Dude, what the f-fruit?!"

Rouge set her fork down and turned on the bench before whoever that comment had been aimed at could respond.

"That's it," she said in an even voice, and had the immense pleasure of seeing every person in hearing range freeze. That, in turn, resulted in the entire mess hall falling silent as people noticed the change.

Rouge still hadn't figured out if her disproportionate amount of authority in the crew was because of her own aura or because sometime during her pregnancy she had earned the right to sick a commander on anybody who so much as breathed the wrong way around her.

She didn't really care.

"Is it me," she started, enunciating her words slowly and clearly, "or are you guys trying not to curse?"

There was an amusing amount of uncertain looks exchanged all over the room before people started to talk over one another.

"Yeah, well…"

"You see—"

"Given that—"

"—Glared at—"

"—Moms—"

"—Pissed—"

Despite the gaggle of voices and the garbled words, Rouge got a decent enough picture of the situation.

She raised her hands to ask for silence.

"Guys, guys," Rouge called, and the voices tapered off. "I appreciate the effort, I really do, but you don't have to do it. I made my peace with the knowledge that my child would grow up with the worst mouth this side of the Red Line even before I gave birth to Ace." Because, as much as she had scolded Roger for it, the truth was that she had understood there was no avoiding it on a pirate ship. "You can curse as much as you want."

Taking her words literally, maybe even in a twisted attempt to make up for lost opportunities, a wide array of curse words started to sound from all over the mess hall.

And she was amused, yes, but she was also happy. Really happy. She looked at Ace, obliviously drinking from his bottle in the arms of a cackling Thatch. An entire pirate crew had been willing to give up one of their more natural habits for the wellbeing of her baby.

Maybe he would curse like the best of pirates, but Rouge had a feeling Ace would grow up as one of the most doted on children in the world. Spoiled too, maybe, though Rouge had no idea what would count as spoiling here.

She really couldn't wait to see.