Archive of Our Own

Sam hadn’t owned the flower shop for very long. Some days, he barely realized he did own it, still trapped in the mindset of renting out a space for the month and a half around Valentines day, maybe stretching it to Mother’s day. And all of that was so much better than the shack-on-wheels he’d used to set up in. And that one had been better than literally parking his truck on the side of the road with barrels of water and flowers in the bed.

Back then, he’d only sold what he grew. Sales lasted a few hours one day a year and then he had to creep back to his miserable day job for the rest of the year. Now, he woke up and came down to his own store (LOVE BUDS Where you can walk undisturbed, the sign out front said proudly) and got shipments from a dozen different local gardens and farms, plus his own, still out back. The lot wasn’t as large as he’d like it to be. He’d lost the acre of space he’d had at his last house when he’d sold it to buy this place–two stories with the shop on the lower floor and his living arrangements upstairs. The house had needed a lot of work, which had put it in his price range, even with the renovations, but it didn’t come with much land. In theory, eventually, he could buy more. But not right now. Right now, he had his backyard, which was barely enough room for a dog to run around in.

He was thinking about that back yard and redoing his lattices when the bell over the door trilled and a harried man stumbled in. Sam had seen a similar look quite often. “Relax,” he told the customer. “You’re still two days out from Valentine’s. You’ve got plenty of time.”

“No, I don’t,” the man said and took a second to catch his breath, even as his eyes darted around the displays of flowers and vases. “My sister’s having her baby and I need flowers but she’s allergic to everything but tulips. But tulips are out of season. Also, I can’t just…I can’t not do something, I have to get to the hospital, she doesn’t have anyone else. Well, I mean, she’s got her husband, but he’s out of town. He’s trying to get in but I’m it, man.” The words fell from his mouth like a spigot had been turned and couldn’t be shut back off.

“Woah, woah,” Sam said, holding up his hands. “Easy. I’ve got silk flowers. We can do anything, any flower, and it won’t make her sick.”

The man’s bright eyes got wide. “I didn’t even think of that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he assured. “If she could have any flower, what would it be?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Oh! Shit!” The man wrestled his bag from his shoulder and produced a children’s book triumphantly. “I’m giving her this. It was our favorite growing up. I thought the baby would like it too.”

The book had a small mouse on the cover and it was titled Chrysanthemum . Sam smiled gently. “Great. I have chrysanthemums in three colors. Do you want to work on putting a bouquet together or do you just want a quick one?”

“A quick one, please. And, y’know, medium sized. Not huge or anything. All three colors. I think they use different colors in the book.” He flipped through the pages quickly and nodded. “Yeah, any color.”

Sam nodded as well and disappeared into the back office to gather supplies. He’d found people liked to watch these things come together, even if they didn’t really want anything special. “Do you want a card or anything?” he asked as he organized the flowers on the front desk and looped matching ribbons around the plastic stems.

“Do you have something, like, ‘congratulations’ in those baby colors?”

“I probably have something with all these colors. Girl or boy?”

“I don’t know,” the man moaned, aggrieved. “She refused to find out. ‘Gender roles and norms aren’t welcome here, Bucky,’” he mimicked in what, Sam assumed, was not his sister’s voice.

“We’ll do yellow, then,” Sam said. “It’s Bucky, huh?”

The man huffed out another sound. “Yeah, you can thank her for that too. She heard my parents pull out my full name once and all of a sudden, I’m Bucky for a lifetime.”

Sam laughed softly and plucked a soft yellow congratulations card from his stash. “What kind of name lends itself to Bucky?”

“James Buchanan,” Bucky answered.

Sam scrunched up his nose with another small laugh. “I’d take Bucky over that any day.”

Bucky seemed surprised, but his face relaxed. Hell, his whole body relaxed for the first time since he’d come through the door. “Yeah, I lucked out with her.”

“Sounds like it,” Sam agreed with a smile. He rang up the items and spritzed the flowers with a gentle perfume before handing everything over to Bucky. “Tell her I said congrats. And congrats to you too, Uncle Bucky. Kid’ll be lucky to have someone like you in their life.”

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said gratefully. He hesitated just a second before he decided to turn to the door, dashing back out to the street.

At least he wasn’t like most of the absent douche-bags Sam was going to be seeing in the next few days, he thought wistfully.

_______________________________

He, in fact, was one of the absent douche-bags that showed up the next few days. It was well after the morning rush of Valentine’s and Sam had been sold out of roses and most of his vase bouquets since before lunch. A few displays with bears and chocolates still persisted, but nothing grand and fancy.

“I specifically reminded you about Valentine's day and you’re still here late,” Sam teased when Bucky came back through the door.

Bucky laughed and Sam realized he hadn’t done that a few days ago. It was nice. “I’m not here to make you panic-create a bouquet for me this time,” he said. “I just wanted to come back and say thanks.”

“You did that when you slid that piece of plastic through here,” Sam pointed out with a grin, tapping his card reader.

“Nah, that’s just a transaction. Woulda been robbery otherwise.”

“You did seem close to desperate measures,” Sam hummed.

Bucky chuckled again and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, I was freaking out pretty bad. So thanks for putting up with me too. On top of the custom bouquet.”

“No problem, Bucky. How’s the kid?”

“She’s good. Real good. Looks just like her mom. She’s got the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Swear they take up half her face. Here…” He pulled out his phone and swiped around for a minute before turning it so Sam could see.

“She’s tiny,” Sam said. “I remember thinking my first nephew was small but then his brother was born and that kid felt like he could fit in the palm of your hand.”

“Which one does she fall closer to?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know. Probably the first one. You’re right though, those eyes are doing a lot of work. She’s cute.” Sam handed Bucky his phone back and Bucky leaned against the counter with a moony look on his face.

“She’s the best. I’m trying to give Becca and her husband some space and time with her but I’m gonna sneak her away first chance I get.”

“Yeah, and the first time she cries after midnight, you’ll give her back.”

“Give me some credit. I’ll last at least three post-midnight cries.”

“That’s still only one night.”

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe so. Like I said, they’ve got a monopoly on her right now anyway.”

Sam smiled at the memory of the way he’d felt after his nephews had been born. “Gonna be your turn next?”

“Hell no,” Bucky laughed. “My interests don’t align with having babies.”

“Eternal bachelor?”

“ Confirmed bachelor,” Bucky corrected with a conspiratorial grin. He cast his eyes around the shop as a blush crept over his cheeks at the confession. “How late are you gonna stay open today?”

“I used to just stay until I sold my last rose. Figured I deserved a break from the crazy morning. But now that I’ve got a full shop, I just run normal hours. Not everyone does roses, y’know?”

“Yeah, some of us can only do tulips.” They grinned at each other for a second longer before Bucky asked, “Are roses your favorite?”

“I like the gesture of them,” Sam said. “They’re easily readable. Romantic and dramatic. A sign to the rest of the world: This is the person I love. But, nah, my favorite flowers are sunflowers.”

“Isn’t that more romantic? To get what someone actually wants?”

“It is,” Sam agreed. “But not so readable. Half of the reason anyone gives someone else flowers is so they can show off to everyone else. If someone saw me walking down the street with sunflowers, they’re more likely to think I bought them for a kid’s school play or at a Van Gogh showcase.”

Bucky snorted. “You’re giving people a lot of credit,” he said.

“What are your favorite flowers?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged. “My sister is allergic to them. I never really paid attention. ‘Sides, it’s not like anyone ever thought to get them for me.”

Sam frowned and it must’ve been a pretty sad sight because Bucky burst out laughing. “No, don’t give me those eyes. It’s alright. I don’t mind. My heart lies more with candies anyway,” he assured.

“It’s not alright. It’s a travesty. Come on, look around. Find some you like.”

Bucky’s phone rang right as he was turning to look at a vase of carnations and he shot a sorry sort of smile at Sam. “Sorry, I have to take this. Tell you what, though. I’ll think on what kind of flowers I like and bring you an answer later.”

Sam ignored the swooping thing his stomach was doing at the idea of seeing Bucky again. “I’m holding you to that, Bucky,” he said. “Give the baby kisses from me.”

Bucky tapped his phone to his head in a sort of salute before answering it as he headed out the door.

_______________________________

“Let me guess,” Sam said, fluffing a new display of marigolds in the window. “Your mother came into town at the last minute. You haven’t bought her a gift in years. I bet your sister usually takes care of it, but she’s a little preoccupied, isn’t she?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him and leaned back against a weathered wood table that had a bunch of picture frames on it. “I’ll have you know, my mother has been dead for five years and before that, I’d been very dutiful about getting her flowers on mother’s day. Jewelry too. I knew the stones she liked better than my father did.”

Sam’s cheeks heated fiercely and he scuffed the heel of his hand against the back of his head. “Can I walk this all back?”

“Nah,” Bucky said seriously, but then he grinned. “Your face, man. Shit, you look like I coulda told you to give me the store and you woulda.” He just about doubled over laughing. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s fine. I’m here for Becca again. It’s her first mother’s day, y’know.”

Sam sagged against the bay window frame and put his face against his folded arms on the wall. “Jesus, man, you had me about to throw up.”

“Well, maybe you should avoid making assumptions,” Bucky snickered. “I should take a bouquet of something out to my ma’s grave though. We were never really a big parents-day family, but it’d be nice this year. With the baby and all.”

“How is she?”

Bucky didn’t look up from trailing his fingers along an ivy vine. “My dead mother? Same as ever, I suppose.”

“The baby,” Sam corrected with a roll of his eyes. He extricated himself from the display and came back over to the counter, so they were leaning against the same side of the glass display, facing each other.. “Tulips for your sister again?”

“Nah, I was thinking something a little different. You know those weird little bears made out of foam flowers?”

“Sure,” Sam said. “I don’t order them because I try to sell only my own stuff here. Or local artists.”

“Noble,” Bucky agreed. “But you use foam in your flower arrangements, right? Could you make me something? Not a bear, that’s probably copyrighted. But maybe a cow. That’s what the baby’s room is done up in.”

“Yeah, I think I can manage that. You want it in time for Sunday? Or earlier? And what color?”

“Lavender and yellow?” Bucky suggested. “And Sunday would be great. We’re all getting together for brunch. Saves the husband from having to do breakfast in bed.”

Sam snorted. “Then you need it by Saturday.”

“I can swing by in the morning on Sunday.”

“I’m not open in the morning on Sundays.”

“Not even for Mother’s Day?”

“Not even,” Sam confirmed. “Not even for you.”

Bucky hummed and contemplated a series of engraved stones in a wooden box on the counter. “Well, how about this? I'll come by just before closing on Saturday to get the cow and then maybe we could go get dinner?” He glanced up at Sam from under his lashes hopefully.

And it was hopeful. The realization made Sam’s stomach swoop over in his belly. Bucky wanted to go on a date with him. “You know,” Sam thought, looking away from Bucky’s earnest eyes. He waited until even he got antsy himself. “I think I could do dinner on Saturday. But you’ll have to be a gentleman. Busy day on Sunday. Gotta be in my best shape. Get home, get ten hours of rest. Can’t be out all night.”

“Well, if the cow is particularly good, I’ll behave myself,” Bucky bargained. “But if the cow is just so-so, I dunno what I’ll persuade you to do.”

“That’s putting a lot of pressure on something I’ve never made,” Sam pointed out. “I could be terrible with foam. Or cows.”

Bucky dropped several rocks back into the display, where they made a lovely clattering noise. “You know,” he said with a put-upon sigh. “I think you’re gonna do an amazing job, unfortunately. And I’ll have to keep my hands to myself and get you home at a reasonable hour.” Even as his hands tentatively reached out, fingers hooking around Sam’s.

Sam’s mouth crooked to the side. “Alright, Uncle Bucky. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Okay, you’ve gotta start just calling me Bucky though. That’s my other rule.”

“Yeah, yeah. The shop closes at six on Saturdays, alright?”

“I’ll be here,” Bucky promised. “Gotta have the cow, y’know. No other reason.”

“None at all,” Sam agreed and squeezed Bucky’s fingers.

_______________________________

Sam almost missed Bucky’s entrance to the shop the next time he came. There was music playing from the overhead speakers and a mass of people milling around, holding up corsages and flower crowns and intricate flower themed temporary tattoos while comparing each to body glitter colors. When he did see the other man, he couldn’t help but call out an excited, “Happy Pride, Buck!”

Bucky grinned over at him and made his way through the crowd to get an arm around Sam’s waist and dip him low for a kiss, much to the wild approval of the other patrons. “Happy Pride, Sam,” he agreed with a wide smile.

When they stood again, Sam gave him another kiss but had to peel away from his side to ring up a rainbow themed bouquet for a young woman who was almost too giddy to get her card in the machine.

“These are so beautiful,” she said and Sam dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You should display them year round.”

“Nah,” Sam said. “I’d get bored. Besides, then I’d have pumpkins stacking up in my back room from August to December.”

“You should do a hayride!” someone else called out.

“Or a pumpkin fight.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. “I think pumpkins cause broken bones and concussions when thrown,” he pointed out. “I don’t have lawsuit money.”

The group let out various dejected noises, but the melancholy only lasted for a few seconds before they were a mild roar of excitement again. They finished checking out with an abundance of flower crowns and stickers and tattoos, as well as a bi-pride bouquet and flowery pronoun pin.

The shop was terribly quiet as they all joined the celebrations outside.

Sam turned to look at Bucky with a grin, watched him try to weave a rainbow colored vine through his hair. “I really dig the whole all-black ensemble you’ve got going on. It says ‘I don’t fuck with mainstream ideas.’ It says ‘I am who I am and Pride is about who I am.’”

“Ease off,” Bucky laughed, giving up on making the vine stay in his hair and just letting it sit on his ears instead. “I was going to work. I thought I’d drop in and see what all the commotion was about.”

“Your super secret job or babysitting?” Sam asked.

“Super secret job,” Bucky clarified. “I’d have asked if you’d want to shut down early if I was babysitting.”

Sam held out his arm and Bucky happily stepped into his space, resting his hands on Sam’s hips while Sam reworked the vine through Bucky’s long hair, carefully braiding it through strands until it sat snugly. “You know, it looks so good on you, goes with your whole secret-identity-brooding-black-outfit-pop-of-color thing that you can have that one on the house.”

“Well, at least let me buy you dinner for it,” Bucky bargained.

Sam grinned at him. “Well, if you insist. The customer’s always right.”

Bucky leaned down to kiss him again, tightening his arms around Sam’s waist as Sam hugged his around Bucky’s shoulders. Sam could’ve stayed there all day, with the dulled sounds of the party outside and the warm, bustling energy of the shop with a million different flowers and colors and smells all around while he kept Bucky close, mouth to mouth and body to body.

But Bucky eventually pulled away, slowly since he kept coming back for another quick kiss. “I really do have to get to work,” he murmured.

Sam leaned in for another kiss. “I know. Text me when you’re heading home. Maybe I can meet you there.”

Bucky kissed him again. “Maybe I’ll just come straight back to your place,” he suggested.

Sam put his hand over Bucky’s mouth to keep himself from stealing another kiss. “Either or, handsome,” he said. He dropped his hand and turned to pretend to fix the box with the pins in it. “Oh, hey,” he added when Bucky seemed almost ready to step away. “My sister invited you to dinner on Sunday. Well, it’s more a lunch that turns into a dinner. You can show up whenever, though. You don’t have to be there for twelve hours.”

Bucky’s cheeks colored and he ducked his head, but when his eyes found Sam’s again, he was smiling. “Sure. I’d like that. I guess it’s only fair, since I tricked you into meeting my sister.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said with a grin. “Even you couldn’t have predicted a flat tire and early return.”

“I still think she did it on purpose when she heard you were gonna be around. She’s like that.”

“She’s great,” Sam argued passively. “I really like her. I’m glad I got to meet her.”

Bucky nodded, drumming his fingers on the display case for a second before he knocked his knuckles on it and stepped towards the door. “I’m glad I’ll get to meet your sister too.” He was almost out the door before he crossed the store in a few long strides and kissed Sam over the display counter. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Get outta here, Barnes,” he ordered playfully. He didn’t remind Bucky about the colorful vine in his hair as he turned and left.

_______________________________

The end of summer and beginning of the school year were slow times at the shop. These were the months Sam budgeted for and the months he could take long vacations without worrying about losing a lot of business. So long as he kept himself apprised of the nearby high schools’s homecoming games and made sure he was open in time for mums and corsages and bouquets for courts and decorations for dances–actually maybe he should just call mid-August to mid-September homecoming season–he could take off whatever time he needed.

The end of September was when things started to ramp up again with the fall seasons approaching and festivals to be planned. Which was greatly infuriating because his birthday was at the end of September and he missed being able to take the day off. As it was, the 23rd had been a remarkably busy day for some reason. He’d already had too many orders for the number of pumpkins he had in store yet and he hadn’t had a chance to put out the kitschy but fun wooden barrels full of orange and yellow flowers.

So when the shop door opened ten minutes before closing, Sam almost dropped his head into the pumpkin he was carving. He didn’t, but it was a near thing. Instead, he set the half carved pumpkin aside and stood up as he said, “Hey, welcome in, how can I– Oh, it’s you.” And some of the irritation and exhaustion he was holding his shoulders melted away.

“Sound a little more put-upon, Sammy,” Bucky laughed. “People might think you’re excited to see me or something.”

“Sorry, it’s been a long day. Did we have a date tonight? It totally slipped–” Sam quieted as Bucky leaned over the counter to kiss him.

“Nah, doll, we didn’t have nothin’ planned. Which is a travesty. Trynna hide your birthday from me. It took Sarah texting me this morning for me to find out.”

“Traitor,” Sam muttered. “What’re you hiding behind your back?”

“The real betrayal,” Bucky admitted with a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t very well get you flowers for your birthday from you.” He held out a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped neatly with a burlap bow and red ribbon.

Sam beamed as he took it. “Aw, Buck, you didn’t have to. I can’t believe you even remembered I liked sunflowers most.”

“Easy to remember when I think about how you’re sunshine to the square inch.”

“Whitman too, huh? Pulling out all the stops.” Sam leaned over for another kiss and situated the flowers in an empty vase by the register. “These are beautiful, Buck. You chose a good pack.”

“I chose each one individually,” Bucky admitted. “Only the best, right? C’mere.” Sam made sure the vase was level before coming out from behind the display case and stepping into Bucky’s arms. “I thought we’d go back to my place. You’ve got yourself a coupon for one free basically homemade meal, movie, and dance.”

“Any kind of dance?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Oh, you want that kind of dance? I can do that,” Bucky laughed, swaying them in place even where they stood.

“That sounds really nice. I’ve been wondering what you cook like.”

“Don’t get your hopes too high. I keep myself fed, but I’m no starred chef.”

“If it means I don’t have to make it tonight, I think anything would be great.” Sam leaned in for another kiss, hugging his arms around Bucky’s waist before he pressed his face to Bucky’s neck and stood still for the first time all day.

Bucky rubbed a hand over the small of Sam’s back. “No work needed on your part. You put that pretty ass down on my couch and turn on the game. We’re into Series play now.”

“Ugh, you want me to fall asleep,” Sam teased.

“Hey now, watch your mouth,” Bucky gasped in faux outrage, even though he was kissing Sam’s temple as he said it. “But even if you did, I’d wake you up before the food got too cold.”

Sam smiled and pushed his face more firmly against Bucky’s neck for a second before he pulled away. “Let me get everything closed down and locked up. Did you ride over?”

“You know I did,” Bucky said, swinging his motorcycle key around his finger.

That pleased Sam more than he was willing to admit. The motorcycle was hot, sue him. Bucky’s place was a bit out of town and the thought of his own apartment right above them was almost tempting enough to argue about heading all the way out to Bucky’s, but the motorcycle skewed his preference distinctly.

“Good. Put the displays into new water, please. I’ll get the till put away.”

“Aye-aye, birthday boy,” Bucky answered, which inexplicably sent Sam into a fit of laughter as he tried to count out his change from the day. He looked up to find Bucky grinning at him already.

_______________________________

The first real cold snap had happened unexpectedly in mid-November. A front had dropped temperatures more dramatically than the weather station was predicting. Sam had covered his backyard enough for a minor drop, but he awoke to a much sadder reality. Then the day had gotten worse. Which is why he was half asleep in a very uncomfortable plastic chair in a hospital room two hours outside of town.

“That’s the oddest bunch of flowers I’ve ever seen,” a voice groaned, startling Sam from his doze.

Sam looked at the bouquet sitting on the window sill behind him. It was an odd assortment, with Dogwood flowers and stalks, Maiden Blush blooms, White Roses, Scarlet Geranium, and Agrimony. “Are you familiar with the Victorian Language of Flowers?” he asked while he rubbed grit and exhaustion from his eyes.

“Can’t say I am,” Bucky wheezed. Sam helped him get a glass of water and stood by to make sure he didn’t choke on it.

“Victorians used to create bouquets to send coded messages. Simple shit, mostly. I miss you and I love you. I think about you always. I hate you, pistols at dawn.”

Bucky closed his eyes, showing off the nasty swelling around his occipital. “As you would with an enemy. What does this one say?”

“It says you’re a fucking liar but I love you anyway and I’m glad you’re alive. Also you're dumb.”

“That’s a complicated way of saying that.” Bucky’s hand settled over his side while he grimaced and tried to adjust on the bed. The hammock sling his other arm was in wasn’t helping matters, or the bulky cast on his right leg.

“You said you were a pencil pusher,” Sam accused. Energy was thrumming under his skin but he sat back down heavily anyway. He wasn’t sure his legs were going to support him much longer.

“Guess I’ll need someone else to do that for me for a while,” he said, making the hammock sling rock a little, though that drew out a hiss of pain too. “Besides, I don’t think you’re giving a fair shake to how much paperwork is involved in my job.”

Sam glared at him, tired and unamused. Bucky sighed. “How did you even figure this out? You’re not my contact.”

“Your friend, Steve, called me once you were stable. He told me almost everything. Funny, how he can be so much more forthcoming than the man I’ve been dating for almost seven months is.”

“Steve,” Bucky ground out, though it came as more of a sigh. “You two never needed to meet. That’ll be the team-up of a century.”

“We’re getting lunch together tomorrow,” Sam added, just because it seemed like it’d cause Bucky distress. “But we’ve been sitting here together this whole time. The only reason he isn’t still here is because he got called back into the…office or wherever you two work.”

“To file all the paperwork for this,” Bucky said like it proved his previous point. He let his head loll to the side and stared up at Sam with as clear of eyes as he could under all the bruising. “Alright, alright, yeah. My job is a little more dangerous than I let you think. I’m more of a spy than a pencil pusher. But I’m a really good one. I didn’t say anything for all of this.” He gestured at his battered body with his free hand.

“Has this happened before?” Sam asked. “Is this…normal? Are you always in so much danger?”

“This? No. Well… No, no. Not really like this. But, I mean, I’m in danger sometimes. It’s part of the appeal of the job,” Bucky admitted.

A headache was beginning to drill into Sam’s head from the temples. Actually, it had probably been there all day and he’d just been ignoring it. “What if it was worse? What would’ve happened then? Would I have ever found out?”

Bucky’s face softened and he held out his hand to Sam. Sam took it gently, as if this was the broken one. “Of course you’d have known. Steve still woulda called you. I tell people about you. They would’ve found you.”

“But I wouldn’t’ve gotten to say–” Tears curled around Sam’s throat and he stopped himself before they showed in his voice.” There was so much he still wanted to say. Not just a possible goodbye, but a whole lifetime of stories and promises and jokes.

Bucky squeezed his hand and brought him back into the present moment. “Well, hey, at least I’m not gonna be in the field for a while. Legs take a lifetime to heal properly and then I’ve got to get back to training before I can be deemed fit for duty.”

Sam supposed it was comforting enough, but it felt like a half measure, like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop now. “I’m still mad at you,” he said.

“Which flower says that?” Bucky asked.

“The roses are the ones saying you’re a liar.”

“I didn’t lie. I told you who I worked for. I just didn’t tell you exactly what I did.”

Sam shook his joined hands a little and frowned. “We need to figure out where you’re gonna stay. My apartment is on the second level, but I can’t make the drive back and forth.”

Bucky smiled gently and shook his head. “You’re too good for me, Sammy. Is there a flower that says that? Steve’s gonna stay with me, get me back on my feet–or foot and boot as it were–and then we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled programming. You don’t have to worry about any of it. But if you wanna come by on Friday nights with take out and a free weekend, I wouldn’t mind that.”

“You want me to close the store on Saturdays for the foreseeable future?” Sam asked teasingly. “Just so I can bring you food and maybe we can get frisky?”

“Man, I don’t think I’m allowed to even think about getting frisky until some of this swelling goes down. Embolisms and all that.”

Sam cringed on Bucky’s behalf and squeezed his hand. “Well, if it’s to make sure you don’t give yourself a brain aneurysm with the paid channels, I guess I can close the store for a few Saturdays.”

“Second and fourth of each month at least,” Bucky reasoned.

“At least,” Sam agreed. “Steve and I can work out the specifics.”

Bucky dropped his head back against the pillow with a groan. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me. My bestfriend and boyfriend are getting along.”

_______________________________

“Hey, handsome,” Bucky greeted for the second weekend Sam was spending with him. He took the takeout back from Sam’s hands and gave him a small bouquet instead. “I looked up that flower language thing you were talking about and built my own bouquet. Don’t worry, I, again, made Steve go well away to avoid giving the competition business.”

Sam rolled his eyes fondly. “This is a lot of white,” he said. “Let me guess…something about innocence? No, that doesn’t make sense. Wait, this is Rue, isn’t it? This is an apology in flowers?”

“Rue, white tulips, Celadine, and Diphylleia. But you’re not giving the purple hyacinths and yellow roses their due,” he said. “They add a great burst of color. And look at this.” Bucky hobbled off to the kitchen to set the food down and returned with a small mister. He gently held the diphylleia against the pads of his fingers in the sling and sprayed the flowers with water. Sam watched the petals disappear against Bucky’s skin, then reappear when Bucky blew on them to dry them. “Pretty neat trick, huh? It doesn’t mean sorry. It means I’m revealing myself to you. This is me, promising to be totally honest from now on, Sam,” he said. He worked a strand of the flower free from the rest of the bouquet and tucked it behind Sam’s ear before kissing just in front of it on his temple. “Now you see me. And we have joys to come.”

“That’s so damn sappy,” Sam breathed. Still, it definitely worked. He turned to kiss Bucky properly, holding the side of his face that was less bruised at this point while he cradled the bouquet close to his side.

Bucky hummed into the kiss and smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “But, damn if that isn’t a hell of a statement to say with flowers,” he agreed before kissing Sam again.

_______________________________

Sam thought the sand of the beach had it out for him specifically as he and Bucky tried to make it up the dunes and to the road. Possibly, it didn’t help that they were hopelessly tangled together and much drunker than either of them anticipated. But Sam was going to blame the sand and Bucky’s leg. It definitely could not be the fault of the way they kept tripping each other while they tried to kiss as they walked.

The shop was a bit of a trek from the beach, but the party had been worth it, if only for the way Bucky smelled and tasted like champagne and wood smoke and sea air. Anyway, once they got solid ground under them, the walk was easier.

Sam missed the lock on the door twice and then cursed nothing in particular when he realized he was trying to use the backdoor key on the front. He hadn’t meant to go in through the store. He’d been aiming for his apartment. But, hell, they were here now. A firework exploded overheard and gave him enough light to work with to get the door open and get Bucky inside.

Bucky’s hands were all over him as he tried to disarm and then re-alarm the front door. He managed somehow and leaned back into Bucky’s body as Bucky kissed down his neck and his hand traveled over Sam’s stomach to his waistband.

“Nyeh, wrong hand,” Sam objected as the last bit of cast scratched over his skin. “Use the other one.” Bucky adjusted without complaint and Sam tangled a hand in Bucky’s hair. “Baby, we should get upstairs. I have CCTV.”

Bucky snorted and kissed Sam’s neck one last time, but let go. “You know, this is definitely one way to start off the new year with a bang,” he said, spinning Sam around by the belt loops.

Sam laughed as the movement made his head swim. He stumbled back against Bucky, who in turned stumbled back and caused a bang alright. He cringed as he looked at the broken glass and spilt water and the scattered petals of yellow orchids and daffodils.

“Aw, my New Beginnings bouquet,” Sam pouted, but made no move to fix any of it.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Bucky said, though he didn’t seem particularly sorry as he leaned in for another kiss. Though maybe it was an apology kiss. “I’ll clean it in the morning.”

“It’s fine,” Sam agreed. “Plumerias mean new beginnings too,” he said. “And I have so many in that new greenhouse you helped me build over Christmas. It’s doing its work. We did a really good job on that.”

Bucky hummed, or maybe growled, against Sam’s jaw. “We’re a good team,” he mumbled against Sam’s skin. He stepped back and crushed a piece of glass, which made him cringe again. “Both constructively and destructively.”

“Too many syllables, man,” Sam muttered, steering Bucky away from the hazard zone and to the stairs.

“Fuck, I wish I could pick you up again already,” Bucky groaned as he started to strip Sam out of his winter clothes, halfway trying to trip and stumble upstairs. They both paused, halfway undressed, when the countdown started outside. 

Out of the window of the shop, fireworks were bursting madly, lighting up the sky in all the same colors of Sam’s flowers. Sam couldn’t even focus on it though, not while Bucky was bundling him close and kissing him like they’d lose the ability to breathe if they didn’t share air. Fireworks exploded all at once, or maybe that was just Sam’s brain, and Bucky kept at it for a few more seconds before he pulled back just a little, grinning broadly. “The perfect ending,” he said.

“And a perfect beginning,” Sam agreed, leaning in to kiss him again and then hauling it up the stairs.

_______________________________

The shop opened at ten in the morning, except for Valentine’s day, in which case he opened at seven to catch students with school crushes and professionals with work crushes and people who wanted to surprise their beau with brunch-in-bed and flowers. Sam could make more money on Valentine’s than the whole gap until Mother’s Day combined some years. The school district had bought their carnations from him this year and that alone was going to hold him over for months. He loved the stress of the holiday–leading up to it for him, and the day-of for the majority of his customers. It was his beginning after all. It’s what got him into the flower business in the first place.

He was giddy with energy when the door opened a few hours after opening. A harried man came rushing in and, with a grin, Sam set aside the complex bow he was trying to tie together.

“How can I help you sir? Don’t worry,” he added. “The day’s not over. You still have time.”

“No, I don’t,” the man said. “You see, I need your last rose. Is that it?”

Sam looked to the thin, single stem vase by the register, which was holding, indeed, the last rose of the day. “Actually, that one’s spoken for, sir. I’m sorry, we’re out of roses for the day. Could I interest you in some carnations? Or maybe tulips? Or chrysanthemums?”

The man managed to keep his twitching lips in check. “No, I need the rose. You don’t understand. My boyfriend, the love of my life actually, is a florist and he’s got this whole thing with the last rose on Valentine’s day. It’s important to him. So I really need the last rose.”

“Well, you see, sir, I’ve got a boyfriend too. Yeah, I like him enough to call him the love of my life, probably, even though he hasn’t proposed yet. And he knows I have a thing for the last rose of the day on Valentine’s, so I’m saving this for him. The absolute weirdo doesn’t know what his favorite flower is, so I can’t get him something anymore personalized than this rose, which he knows means a lot to me,” Sam explained, moving the vase further from the man’s reach.

“Okay, but my boyfriend actually likes flowers. He deserves it a whole lot more than your loser boyfriend, who still probably has a good reason for not having a favorite flower. Did you think of maybe buying him fifty dollars worth of his favorite candies instead?”

“Fifty? I bought him, like, twenty dollars worth of candy. Maybe thirty. I was gonna supplement it with this very important flower.”

The man snorted and dug in his pocket for a second before pulling out a box and setting it down on the counter. “Okay, but I need that flower because my boyfriend really wants me to propose. He’s been bitching to my best friend about it, even when said best friend is on a super secret mission and shouldn’t be on the phone, for months. And I’m gonna put this ring on that stem and give him that flower when I propose later. Maybe get it set in some glycerin or something. I dunno, he’ll have to walk me through that part afterwards.”

Sam stared down at the box. His fingers twitched towards it but he kept his hands behind the display case. This year, it was full of foam animal characters. Everything but bears. He did not care about the animals all lit up under the box. Steve had spoiled Bucky’s shopping plans almost immediately, but Sam hadn’t ever found the ring itself. Not that he was trying very hard. He just happened to check Bucky’s sock drawer more often when he was over.

He very badly wanted to know what it looked like.

“If I give you this flower, will you show me what you’re planning to do? I’m a florist too, y’know. I could help you with your presentation before the big ask later,” Sam offered.

Bucky grinned at him and shrugged. “As an uninvolved third party, I don’t see the harm in letting you help a little bit. My boyfriend is very discerning. I put a green pillow next to a yellow pillow on my couch once and he threatened to burn the pillow covers.”

“Well, I’m sure he thought it made your couch look like RealLime-and-Lemon containers.”

“You florists, all gotta stick together,” Bucky lamented. “The rose, please.”

Sam passed over his last rose and Bucky took the box back, making a show of turning around with both the rose and the ring to get everything situated. Sam came out from behind the register to lean against the front of it.

“So, I figured I’d say something like this,” Bucky said and then turned around with the rose held in between his fingers, looking like a dating show heartthrob. He sank down elegantly to one knee and stared up at Sam with the bluest, most sincere eyes Sam had ever seen. “Sam Wilson, since the moment I stumbled into this store, I’ve been freely offering you bits of my life. I’d give you anything you asked for–my favorite childhood book, revelations about my mother, time with my niece and sister, information about my job, the greenhouse you sorely needed. And I’m more than happy to take anything you offer me–your bargains, flower crowns, sunday dinner with your family, righteous fury, all the food in the world. And I want to spend every damn holiday for the rest of my life surrounded by the colors of your flowers and the brightness of your smile. I want to be there when you buy the next plot of land back. I want to put up the walls of the expansion with our own two hands. I want to see you thrive and I want to thrive next to you.

“Sam, I never gave much thought to love. It was a fairytale I stopped believing in at the same time as dragons. But when I met you, I realized how every single flower could mean ‘I love you.’ I want to tell you in a million ways. I love you when it’s stormy. I love you when you’re hurt. I love you when we’re fighting. I love you to my grave. I love you with fireworks. I love you with pistols at dawn. Every flower I ever give you will mean I love you.

“So I’m offering you this flower–not the first and certainly not the last–as a symbol of that love, eternally. I have loved you every second I didn’t know you without realizing it, but now that I know it, now that I have you in my arms, all I want to do is spend the rest of my life loving you. Samuel Thomas Wilson, will you do me the honor of accepting the last rose of the day, but the first one of the rest of our lives?”

Sam was holding his hands over his eyes, willing tears to go back into ducts. He wanted nothing more than to reach out for the rose and the ring, but that would mean letting Bucky see him crying. A tear snaked past his hand and he eventually gave up, wiping his cheeks hastily as he nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course, Bucky,” he said. He surprised himself by bypassing the rose to reach for Bucky’s cheek instead, eyes glued to his partner’s face even though he really still wanted to see the ring. “I want to marry you too. I’ve wanted that. I want to be yours and have you be mine.” He swiped at his cheeks again and took in a shuddering breath before finally taking the rose.

The ring was nestled high up under the head of the rose. Bucky had wrapped a few petals through the ring to hold it in place. As Sam pulled the ring free, the petals drifted to the floor, landing in front of Bucky, who was staring up at Sam, earnest and nervous. The ring was a taller gold band, with carvings of vines and leaves and flowers throughout it, all converging on a small, light green gem embedded at the top, nestled in a carving of sprawling leaves.

“Buck, this is beautiful,” he breathed, sliding it onto his hand and laughing incredulously when it fit perfectly.

“Cass didn’t need your class ring for show and tell,” Bucky admitted as Sam twisted the ring on his finger. “I needed it to figure out the sizing.”

Sam laughed again and urged Bucky back to standing so he could kiss him deeply. “I love you,” he breathed between kisses. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to hold Bucky’s hands against his face or keep his own hands clutched at Bucky’s hips. “Cliche as hell to propose on Valentine’s Day though.”

Bucky shrugged and kissed the tip of Sam’s nose. “It’s my boyfriend’s favorite holiday. He loves love. Besides, if I proposed on the day we met, we’d always be overshadowed by my niece’s birthday.”

Sam grinned and kissed Bucky again. “Well, I’ll tell you a florist secret. It’s not so much the love of it, it’s the flowers of the day. But with a guy like you around, who wouldn’t like the love stuff too?”

Bucky seemed just about ready to carry Sam upstairs when the door opened and they turned to look at the frazzled young man who had come in.

“Please, do you have any roses left?” he asked desperately.

Sam looked up at Bucky with a grin. “No, I’m sorry. I just sold the last one for the day,” he said and leaned in for another kiss.