odderancyart:

Spicyhoney Flowershop AU (yes I know it’s old shut up)

The shop
was quiet as Edge watered the last of the flowers. Night was falling outside,
and a few stars had already appeared on the sky. He exhaled as a breeze came in
through the half-opened window, rustling the leaves of the plants filling up the
room and glanced at the clock. It was closing time in less than half an hour,
and then he could go home. Doomfanger purred as he stroked against Edge’s leg,
demanding pets. With a smile, he put down the watering can on the counter, the
metallic noise echoing through the shop, as he bowed down to scratch his cat
behind the ears.

It had been
a busy day, but everything was settling down now. Few were out to buy flower at
this time of day. He picked up Doomfanger, and the cat buffed his head against
his chest as he made his way behind the counter. A vase full of fresh carnations
presided on it. Edge’s eyelights glazed over his shop; he’d watered the
flowers, swept the floor, organized what had gotten out of place during the
day. There didn’t seem to be anything else for him to do, no.

With a
content sigh, he sat down on the wooden chair backed up against the wall. Doomfanger
immediately curled up, pawing at his legs. Sometimes, Edge was quite grateful
that he wasn’t a fleshy monster; he couldn’t imagine that the sharp claws would
be very pleasant if you had skin for it to pierce. As it was, the claws only
scratched lightly, hardly enough to be noteworthy. A car rushed by outside, illuminating
the shop for the briefest second before it disappeared once again.

Leaning
back, he considered closing early, but decided against it. There might just
show up some last-minute customer. Plus, he quite enjoyed sitting alone in here,
with only his cat and the flowers as company. As he absentmindedly petted
Doomfanger, he fished up his phone from his pocket and opened the book he was
currently reading – The Ingredients of
Love. As much as he preferred real physical books, it was undeniably quite
useful to always have an e-book available.

A smile
played on his lips. After years of fighting with his father over the fact that
he did not wish to become a CEO or banker
or whatever, things were falling into place. He and his brother were both
disappointments, but their father seemed to have accepted that now. By some
miracle they hadn’t had a falling out and were still seeing each other on family
dinner in their father’s city manor every Sunday. Life was good.

Just as he
turned yet another page, a smash made him jump. Edge was on his feet within
seconds, and Doomfanger protested loudly as he was forced to jump. His claws stuck
to Edge’s black jeans for a moment. Readying his magic, Edge twisted to look
the way the sound had come from. He found himself staring into a pair of orange
eyelights, and at a skeleton standing in the doorway. The pounding in his chest
immediately slowed, and he relaxed, dispelling his magic.

The skeleton
grimaced before he made his way up to the counter. Surprise filled his eyes as
he looked at him. Breathing out slowly, Edge smiled pleasantly, ignoring the
adrenaline still rushing through him. “How can I help you?”

“This is going
to sound real weird, but, eh-” Raising an eyebrow, Edge waited patiently as the
other rubbed his neck. “I want to tell someone fuck you in flower. Can you help me? And, oh, sorry for scaring you
before.”

“You didn’t
scare me,” Edge huffed, crossing his arms. “Merely startled me. But yes. I can
do that.”

The corner
of the newcomer’s mouth tilted upwards. He held out his hand. “Great. Thanks. I’m
Rus, by the way. If that’s relevant.”

“Edge.” He
shook Rus’ hand. A grimace flashed over Rus’ face as he squeezed, and Edge
couldn’t help but smirk. He studied the newcomer as Rus flexed his fingers. Slouch.
An obnoxiously orange hoodie and cargo pants, and sneakers that seemed to have
seen better days. But his bones were well-shaped and white; flawless and
pretty, and the orange dusting his cheek was near enchanting. If he straightened
his back, he’d likely be taller than Edge now when he was wearing combat boots
instead of stilettos. He was beautiful. “May I ask why?”

Irritation.
“Yeah.” Rus let out something akin to a growl, and he stuck his hands into his
pockets. Edge could see them clench through the fabric. “Douchebag ex. He likes
this flower stuff and I’m hoping he’ll get the gist that I’m not fucking
interested in taking him back.”

Edge
hummed, bowing down to pick up the book on flower language he always kept
beneath the counter. While he knew a lot of it, it was always useful to have a
guide. The edition was almost falling apart from having been used so much, and
he quickly found the right pages. He grinned. “Better ensure it can’t go unnoticed
then, hm?”

As he made
his way around, back into the shop itself, Doomfanger jumped up on the counter.
Just as he opened his mouth to warn Rus, the cat hissed, glaring at him. Rus
took an automatic step back, eyes widening. He managed to keep himself from
chuckling. “Careful, Doomfanger doesn’t like strangers.”

“No kidding.”
Rus took another step back, without letting go of the cat with his eyes. Then
he stopped. “Wait. Doomfanger?”

“It is a
perfectly good name for a cat.” This conversation was old. Red had never fucking
let him forget he thought it was a dumb name, and mostly everyone would comment
on it.

Rus grinned,
but there was hesitance in his expression. Almost anxiety. “I think you’d get
along with my brother. He’s got a dachshund named Bumbersnoot.”

“Perhaps him
and I should form a club together with my brother’s fiancé. The club for people
who know to give their pets cool names.”

That
startled a laugh out of Rus, who was still chuckling as he looked Edge over. Like
most others, he would likely not peg Edge as a florist if he’d seen him on the
street; leather jacket, torn jeans, combat boots and scars he’d gotten from
getting into fights as a teen hardly gave that impression, he knew that. Most
of the time it amused him. He grinned back.

Picking up
a red garden anemone, he held it up toward Rus. “The red anemone symbolizes illness.
Once people believed you’d get sick just by breathing in its scent.”

“Fricking
perfect. What more have you got?” A gleeful smile appeared on his face, and
Edge’s soul skipped a beat. Hell, he was good-looking, there was no denying
that. Walking around the shop with Rus, he assembled a bouquet of St. John’s Worts,
basil, fragrant coltsfoot and yellow carnations. Respectively, they meant animosity,
hatred, you’ll get what you deserve,
and contempt. He wrapped the bouquet up with some privet, meaning stay away. The whole time, Rus came with
clever comments.

When they
went back to the counter for him to pay, Edge felt almost sorry. It was two minutes
after closing time, and normally he’d be happy to go home, but his stomach sank
with disappointment at the thought of ending this conversation.

When Rus
fished up his wallet from his hoodie pocket, he opened it and grimaced. “Fuck.”
Instinctively, Edge’s eyes narrowed as Rus grinned at him apologetically, his long,
nimble fingers fiddling with the wallet. “So I forgot my card at home. But my
brother’s not too far away, but I’m in a hurry, so would it’d be okay if- if he
came and picked them up in a few minutes? Sorry…”

Oh, good. It
wasn’t a ploy to get free flowers. Edge regarded him, saw how he slouched even
more and hunched his shoulders. He made a quick decision. He picked up one of
his business cards, handed it to Rus, and smirked. “How about this. You’ll go
on a dinner with me – either as a date, or just as friends if you’re not
looking – and I’ll give you the flowers?”

Rus stared
at him, his eyes growing wide. For a short moment, Edge held his breath,
wondering if he’d made the right call. The other gaped. Then Rus’ mouth snapped
shut and he smiled. Widely. Edge’s soul made a somersault. Beautiful.

“I’d love
that,” he replied. He took the card. “A date it is.”

Edge nodded
sharply, supressing the little laugh nearly bubbling out of him, and snatched
one of the small cards he sold by the desk. Grabbing a pen, he quickly wrote,
with elegant cursive letters, Fuck off
asshole, he’s taken.

Leaning forward
to see, Rus snorted loudly. “A lil’ early to get possessive, ain’t it?”

He only
smiled at he stuck it into the bouquet.

Yes! I loved this. The ending was wonderful.