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A black cat bats at a hydrangea bloom next to the register. The cat does not notice the watchful eyes on it. A petal flutters from the abused hydrangea to land softly on the shoes of the bewildered shop owner.
Two facts about Dedue Molinaro, said shop owner, conflict with this situation:
1). Dedue is a florist.
2). Dedue does not have a cat.
The cat flops on its back, assaulting the innocent hydrangea from below. It does not seem to mind Dedue crouching beside it, wondering how to hold a cat. Their claws are sharper than knives, he's been told. While he has no fear of knives, cats aim for the eyes, he's heard
He quite likes his eyes. They look like his mother's and are one of his last memories of her.
Just yesterday, a new cat café opened up across the street. Dedue can assume this cat is a new neighbor. He knows he should return it home. He meant to greet the new owner yesterday, but the shop had been flocked with patrons from open to close. Many stopped by his shop, as well, and made purchases. He was pleased. But that was yesterday, and this is this morning, and though things should be mostly the same as yesterday, they are not.
The cat finally seems to realize it is being watched. It looks at Dedue, wide peridot green eyes strikingly sharp, and chirps curiously. Dedue did not realize that cats chirp. This one does. Odd. The cat blinks slowly at him, and Dedue blinks back. The cat blinks again. Dedue blinks back. It feels like the right thing to do.
Just as he's questioning if he should simply lift the cat and toss it out, the bell above the door chimes. He and the cat glance over in tandem. A person, chest huffing for breath, breaks into a grin that could give Dedue’s plants enough light for a month. He wears an apron with an embroidered cat, the words ‘Café Gaspawd’, and pinned with a he/they badge, sleeves rolled up to freckled elbows and teasing lithe muscle, slacks that are a bit too long, though he isn’t short by any means, and tennis shoes that should have been replaced at least half a year ago. His silver hair is messy. His eye color matches the cat's.
He struggles to close the door behind him. That thing is always getting stuck. Dedue moves to help, but with a huff, the door shuts. His visitor turns to face him, greetings cut short when his eyes fall on the cat. "Oh, Wisteria, there you are!"
The cat chirps happily before rolling to its feet. It struts across the floor and rams into the man's shins. He chuckles as he kneels to scratch the cat's head.
Strange. Dedue did not know that chuckles could remind him of a spring day, but he also did not realize cats could chirp. There are many sounds that he does not seem to know. The sound of this man's name, for instance.
The man looks up. Dedue notes he has freckles splattered across his cheeks, not unlike dots of wildflowers across a field. The man blinks at him. Dedue blinks back, and, surprisingly, red blossoms across the man's cheeks.
"I'm so sorry! I've been around the cats so much, I seemed to have picked up that habit." He chuckles again, shaky like a windy rain pattering against glass. Dedue isn’t sure what habit he’s referring to, but he finds he doesn’t mind said habit being directed towards him. "I'm Ashe. I just opened up next door. I just noticed Wisteria escaped. She's a spunky one."
The cat, Wisteria, leaves Ashe, tottering to Dedue. She headbutts his leg with a chirp. Dedue watches her, brow raised.
"Oh! She really likes you!" Ashe crouches and waggles his fingers. Wisteria calculates, staring at Ashe haughtily before she bumps Dedue’s legs once again. Ashe glares, cross. "I might have to get you to help me out here."
"I… I don't know what to do," Dedue says. Wisteria chirps. Is it a warning? A demand?
"About… Wisteria? Wait, no, are you afraid of cats?" Ashe rushes over. The smell of earl grey follows him as he scoops Wisteria into his arms. As he stands, Dedue realizes Ashe is very, very close. "I'm so sorry about that…um..."
It feels like three days pass before Dedue processes that Ashe is asking for his name. "Dedue. And I’m not afraid of cats. Just their claws." Wisteria blinks at him, slowly, like she is lazily taking note of all his soft, weak places. Dedue blinks back, hoping that meeting her as an equal is the right answer. She chirps. What does it mean?
“Dedue,” Ashe repeats, smiling. He has a freckle on his lip. “Would you like to pet her? It might help you get over your anxiety."
"I'm not anxious. She is… cute."
"She keeps blinking at you!"
"Is it a challenge?" Dedue knows that some creatures like lions, gorillas, small children, and Felix take direct eye contact as a threat.
Ashe's mouth falls open, then slams shut. His eyes glisten with mirth. Wisteria wiggles out of his arms and pads her way back to Dedue’s legs, winding like a snake. Dedue thinks he may never get all her hairs out of his clothes.
"It means she likes you. She wants you to pet her! She might even want you to pick her up. She's just curious about you. You don't have to, of course. She'll get over the rejection someday."
Dedue looks at her. She looks back. She blinks. Dedue blinks back. It feels like something monumental is happening.
"Aww," says Ashe, cutting the moment short. "Sorry," he adds when Dedue frowns at him.
"Well, I will trust your expert opinion, then." Dedue crouches. Wisteria chirps, curiously approaching Dedue to sniff his knee.
"Put your hand out and let her sniff," Ashe instructs. "Go on."
Dedue does. Wisteria daintily sniffs at his fingertips, and then she bumps her head against Dedue’s hand. Dedue tentatively rubs along her head. Her purrs are full of light chirps, like her meows. She is very soft. And not biting him, which Dedue takes as a good sign.
"Aw, she loves you," Ashe says. "I feel bad for ‘whisk-ering’ her away." He winks before leaning down to bundle Wisteria in his arms. She complains with a high-pitched mewl, but Ashe has her trapped so that she can't twist and squirm to freedom. That must take some kind of superhuman strength, Dedue thinks. “Guess that means you'll just have to come visit, hmm?”
"I will soon," Dedue promises. He isn't sure when that should be. Is there some sort of social rule that says he should wait a day before going to his new neighbor's business? Or is that just for texting? Is it even a day? Two days?
Ashe smiles as he leaves. After Ashe fights the door closed behind him, the room feels colder, and Dedue swears his flowers dip towards the ground. Dedue decides he'll go visit whenever he damn well pleases, social rules or not.
---
Actually, he's going to visit whenever Wisteria damn well pleases, as the very next morning, she is waiting for him inside his shop, laying haphazardly across the front counter. Dedue stares at her.
She blinks.
He blinks back.
She bli-
"Okay, we do not have time, little one," Dedue says. "You do not belong here, regardless of your name."
Dedue searches the shop for any holes that have allowed her to sneak in but can see nothing. He does, however, find suspicious tracks in his newly flattened, thoroughly chewed catnip.
He glares at Wisteria.
Wisteria sneezes and rolls at the speed of sluggish magma onto her back, effectively shoving a paper weight onto the floor with a bomb-like crash. Wisteria jolts yet remains unbothered on her back.
Dedue narrows his eyes
Wisteria chirps, eyes closed. She purrs loudly.
"You are just a cat. Albeit one far too clever for her own good," Dedue tells her, picking her up as Ashe had the day before. She goes limp as a dishrag in his arms, slung over his shoulder. Dedue huffs as he grabs his keys one-handed.
He shoves the door. It gets stuck in the frame. He really should fix it, but with all the other holes and drafts and floods this shop has, he really wishes he could just find a new building altogether.
He thinks a moment longer and grabs a bunch of lavender. A welcome gift. To welcome Ashe. Nothing else. He crosses the quiet street and looks into the window. Ashe is puttering about, putting goodies in the display cases and sweeping up the shop. Dedue takes a deep breath and tries adjusting his shirt collar one handed.
"I hope you know I am doing this for you, cat," he says. "This is altruism. I'm being neighborly."
Wisteria purrs against his shoulder, her chin tucked in the slope, unaware or uncaring of what Dedue is telling her. She's hot, like a little heater. Maybe Dedue wouldn’t mind her breaking in during the winter months, if her delicate little paws could stand the snowy Faerghan cold.
Dedue pushes open the café door to the sounds of bells. He notices Ashe’s door doesn’t get stuck, and after closing it behind him, there’s not an immediately noticeable draft. Ashe perks up, laying his broom against the wall.
"Dedue! And…" he groans as he hustles over, taking Wisteria into his arms, flipping her onto her back, and kissing her head. "You troublesome little brat! I am so sorry. I have no idea how she's getting out."
"Nor do I understand how she's getting in." Dedue says. He scratches her head. Her tongue plips out.
"She must really like you," Ashe says as he turns her loose onto the floor. She winds a figure eight around Ashe's legs and then Dedue's before stumbling into a backroom through a small cat door.
Dedue chuckles. "I think she likes my catnip," he supplies, "or what's left of it, anyway. I believe she indulged herself."
Ashe's forehead knits in thought as he processes. “Well, that explains why she’s so goofy. Did you know that when they eat it, they tend to get sleepy? She’ll probably be asleep most of the morning, not that she wouldn’t be anyway– oh!” A look of exasperation and horror washes over him, painting his face red. "She ate all your catnip! Oh, Dedue, I'm so sorry. I can pay you back."
"It's fine, Ashe. It’s neither expensive nor difficult to grow."
Ashe’s hands find the hem of the apron, fidgeting. "Still, I feel responsible…"
"I suppose, then, you can reimburse me for the damages," Dedue says, tone deep and serious. Ashe gulps. His eyes are so wide and sincere, Dedue almost feels guilty.
"Sure, anything," Ashe answers.
"I was trying to spare your feelings, but in truth, Ashe, the losses are quite steep."
Ashe's eyes are wide. His hands tremble, and his blush is creeping down his neck, hidden by his cat-print apron. He swallows roughly, waiting for judgement. "How much…?"
Dedue almost, almost feels cruel when he says, "About one muffin of your choosing, a coffee, black, and for you to accept this as a token of friendship." Dedue hands the lavender to Ashe, who grabs them mechanically. Dedue's lip quirks as Ashe blinks once, twice, then frowns. He looks at the bundle of lavender as if he didn't realize it was in his hands, then glares at Dedue, face burning.
"You really had me going." Ashe's frown softens almost into a pout, but it's quickly replaced with his sunshine grin as he sniffs the flowers. "These are wonderful. Thank you. Would you be very offended if I dried them to use as accents on a new recipe I'm trying?"
"I'd be honored, but only if I'm allowed to taste test it first."
Ashe sticks out his hand. "Deal."
Dedue takes Ashe's hand, wrapping it up gently in his much larger one. Ashe's hands are covered in tiny scratches, of course, but are also rough and calloused in a way Dedue wouldn't have expected from a café owner. Hands tell stories. He wonders what Ashe thinks of his own rough and scarred hands.
"I'll have that right up for you. Maybe you could try meeting some of the other cats while you wait? Or you could just have a seat."
Dedue eyes the cats. A small herd of them in varying shapes and colors prowl the café, seeking out sunbeams and cushions to sleep on.
He sits in a cushioned chair near a round grey tabby. The cat lazily looks him up and down before falling back asleep. Dedue tries to relax his shoulders, but he feels out of place. The café is soft and cute, and Dedue is not, despite his current line of work. Regardless, his eyes scan the room, seeking corners, shelves, and tables that could do with some color and growth. He'll have to check what plants are cat-safe and bring Ashe some more. For the good of Ashe’s new business, of course, and for the good of Dedue’s own business. It’s practically free advertising. Simple capitalism. Of course.
Ashe returns a moment later, two sets of coffee and muffins balanced on a tray. He arranges them expertly on the table before sitting across from Dedue. The muffin has a sugar imprint of a cat paw. The cups and plates are all mismatched but cat-themed, with little cartoon cats painted on them. In fact, though everything is earth colored, none of the chairs or tables match in neither shape nor shade. Everything in the shop screams comfortable, soft, and of a home.
“I hope you don’t mind me joining you. I have some time before opening. If you do as well, it’d be lovely to talk with you.”
Dedue gestures at the seat across from him. Ashe sits, a cat immediately jumping up onto his lap. Ashe smiles shyly into his coffee before launching into a series of questions for Dedue. He’s curious, genuinely kind, and charming, finding his way past Dedue’s usual reticence, as if he’s a thief stealing through the night. When it’s time to open shop, he invites Dedue back for another visit whenever he has time.
Dedue supposes he can spare some time once in a while to chat with a new neighbor.
---
Thanks to a new routine of Wisteria finding her way into Dedue’s shop every morning, Dedue finds his way into a new routine of spending his mornings in Ashe’s shop. Ashe does use the lavender for a new muffin recipe, letting Dedue taste it first.
Chats quickly turn into exclusive behind-the-scenes visits into the kitchen when Dedue reveals his own love for cooking. Dedue shares his own ideas and recipes for Ashe to try, which leads to Dedue sharing more than he had even intended to about his family and his past, which leads to Ashe doing the same.
They've led different lives, and are very different people, but they are more alike than Dedue could have guessed.
Dedue doesn’t often find himself with new friends; he’s done well at keeping the ones he’s had until now. But as the weeks pass, Ashe finds his way into Dedue’s thoughts, his conversations, his dreams. This blossoming friendship with Ashe is special.
Alongside it, Dedue realizes one chilly morning as he sips warm coffee in Ashe’s sunny company, another feeling is growing, something that is much less common for him to experience, and something that is a bit more difficult for him to cultivate when he does feel it. But just like the most difficult flower, if he gives it time and space, he can see what it’ll become.
The stories have it wrong. This feeling isn't something more. What they have now isn't “just” friendship. What Dedue thinks he's growing with Ashe are different, unique feelings that are as distinct as chrysanthemums and violets. Each individual feeling is just as important as the other in the flourishing bouquet of his relationship with Ashe. Each flower adds a different color and texture.
And Dedue thinks he might want to see if this bouquet can grow into a garden with Ashe.
---
The routine is broken one rainy morning when Dedue opens shop, and Wisteria is not there. Strange, he thinks, but she probably decided to not risk the storm and get her delicate little paws wet. Dedue goes through the routine of checking his flowers and tidying up before the day begins. He's finished long before opening. Lately, he’s come in earlier and earlier every day. It’s a healthy business practice, of course, and not so he can spend more time elsewhere.
He looks through his shop’s front window, wondering if Ashe would mind him dropping by, even without such an obvious excuse as Wisteria. If he didn’t go, it'd be the first time he's missed their morning meetings since they began, but…
Is bringing Wisteria home just a pretense at this point? What would happen if he just… showed up?
Would things change? Does Dedue want things to change yet? Does Ashe? They haven’t known each other long, but…
Dedue is overthinking this. Flowers don’t wait for a pretense to blossom. They just do it when the time is right, and maybe now the time is right.
Dedue takes a small pot of violets – Ashe’s favorites, which has nothing to do with why he’s started keeping more of them– and, straightening his shirt, heads across the street before he can second guess himself.
When the bell to Café Gaspawd rings, the owner is behind the counter. He glances up, seeming unsurprised to see his most consistent guest arrive. Several of the cats approach Dedue and wind about his legs. He crouches to greet them one by one before standing.
Ashe is frowning, brow crinkled. A pang of anxiety shoots through Dedue, but he shakes himself out of it. Ashe has never been unhappy to see Dedue; why would it change now?
Unless Ashe has become bored of Dedue’s company, which could be a possibility. He considers leaving the violets and heading back to his shop, but Ashe shuffles over, eyes darting about, looking for something that he doesn’t find.
Dedue puts the flowers down on the closest table. He looks himself over, but nothing seems amiss. He glances around the shop, trying to find what’s wrong.
Ashe beats him to it. “Did Wisteria stay in your shop today?”
Oh. Trouble seems to be brewing around Wisteria once again. “Is she not here?”
Ashe starts to fidget with his hands and the ring he wears, a nervous habit. “No.” He looks around the room, as does Dedue, but she is nowhere to be seen.
“I will go check my shop again. Maybe she slipped by when I wasn’t paying attention.”
Ashe nods absently, gaze jumping about. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll check here, then. We’ll find her. She can’t have gone far. She’s probably just sleeping in…”
He turns, but before he can walk away, Dedue reaches out, brushing Ashe’s wrist. Ashe stops, tilting his head curiously, but not really focusing on Dedue. Dedue takes a step closer, cautiously wrapping Ashe’s hand in his own and squeezing it gently. He thinks maybe he should say something, offer some words of encouragement, but no words come to mind.
It doesn’t matter. Ashe takes the breath from Dedue’s lungs. He spins into Dedue’s chest, wrapping Dedue in a tight hug. Dedue’s arms are lead. His arms become unmovably heavy as if all the gravity in the universe presides from exactly his shoulders to his fingertips. It isn’t until Ashe shifts against him that he remembers how joints are meant to move. He draws Ashe into an embrace. His stone fingers soften as they slid through Ashe’s hair in what he hopes is a comforting manner, patting at the top of Ashe’s head. Ashe takes a deep breath, lingering for a beat longer. He steps back after what feels like something between five minutes or years.
“Thank you, Dedue,” he says. He’s much more focused, the color returned to his cheeks. “Let’s go find her.” His grins, confident and hopeful.
Dedue will search the entirety of the city and its sewer system if it means Ashe not losing that smile again.
---
In the end, it does not take a city-wide search. It barely takes a two-man search. They find her in a cabinet in Dedue’s shop. It’s one high up, in the back of the shop, that Dedue didn’t particularly use for anything and didn’t even consider she could climb into. He has now been properly corrected that if it opens in any way, and even if it doesn’t, a cat can find a way in.
By the time they return to Ashe’s shop, it’s almost time to open. Ashe frowns, looking at the cat-shaped clock that hangs on the wall above the register.
“If you have time, we could still have our morning together… that is, if you want to! No pressure!” Ashe says, the last half of his sentence comes out more as a single word.
“I would love to,” Dedue assures him, sitting at their usual table. “Always.”
Ashe turns pink as a cat’s tongue. Chuckling nervously, he heads to the counter to prepare them tea and a pastry. While waiting, Wisteria jumps into Dedue’s lap, chirping impatiently.
“You caused quite a scare, little one,” Dedue tells her. She bumps her head against his chest, uncaring for the panic she gave Ashe. And Dedue, too, but just a little.
When Ashe returns with the tray, he sets it down and scratches Wisteria’s head before sitting himself. She doesn’t acknowledge him, but instead curls up into a tight ball on Dedue’s lap. Her tiny knives stab into Dedue’s thighs, through his trousers, but he's come to find he doesn't mind so much. Ashe scoffs.
“She is obsessed with you,” Ashe mumbles. “She’s really become quite attached to you. I’m almost jealous.”
Dedue stops scratching her. She chirps softly, protesting, but she’s too out of it to really complain. “Jealous?”
If Ashe were pink before, now he’s red as a rose, the blush deepening across his cheeks. He quickly grabs his tea, taking a too long, deep swig of it. He’s no less cherry-tinted than before.
Ah.
Well. Dedue figures he can scrape up just a little of the confidence he had this morning.
“I like you.” Dedue doesn’t take his eyes off Ashe as he watches his confession roll over the other man. First, Ashe tilts his head, confused. Then his eyes widen. His mouth opens, closes, opens again.
"Like, as a friend, or…?"
Dedue huffs. "Both, Ashe. I care for you deeply in different ways, and none of my affections hold more weight than the others. We've simply explored one further. If you were amenable, I'd like to explore my other feelings for you, as well."
Dedue feels his cheeks burning, but to his relief, his skin doesn't reveal his emotions quite to the extent that Ashe's does. The moment feels heavy, full of expectation and chance and–
Wisteria chooses this moment to shuffle awake and, distraught at the lack of attention Dedue is giving her, plop a knife-less paw onto his nose. Dedue stares down at her, too surprised to do anything else.
Silence. And then, Ashe laughs. It starts as a chuckle, then rolls into a full guffaw. He doubles over, laughing as the cat who had made a bed of his lap scampers off. He slowly collects himself, wiping a tear from his eye. By then, Wisteria has darted into her hiding spot, insulted and shocked by her gentle human’s sudden loud noises.
“I’m sorry,” Ashe says, steadying his voice. “I suppose I should be as forward as her with my thoughts, hmm?” Despite saying as such, he takes another sip of his drink, eyeing Dedue with amusement. Dedue waits, knowing patience is the answer with cats and Ashe alike, though his heart races and does really wish Ashe would hurry.
“I was so terrified when she disappeared,” Ashe says, unable to focus on Dedue as he looks anywhere but him, “because I want you to adopt her. All the cats here are adoptable, but Wisteria has always been a special case to me. She deserves a home where she receives focused love and care, but I’ve never wanted to let her go. I’d miss her. And I just want to make sure she receives the best home possible. I’m pretty sure she’s already chosen you anyway, and…” Ashe takes a deep breath and meets Dedue’s eyes. “And I want to see you more and more, and maybe I’m an awful person, but ‘cat welfare checks’ seemed like a pretty good excuse.”
Dedue can’t help but smirk. “Cat welfare checks? Surely that’s not a thing.”
Ashe purses his lips. “It can be. But I guess I didn’t need the pretense, huh?”
“Never. I’m just across the street.”
Just as Ashe starts to say something, the clock strikes the hour. He grimaces as he gathers their dishes, and Dedue stands to head to work.
Ashe smiles sheepishly. “Come by for lunch if you have time. Free of charge for the cats’ favorite customer.”
Dedue nods. “Then I suppose it’s only fair for you to come have dinner with me tonight. You’ll need to give my apartment a cat welfare check before I bring Wisteria home, won’t you?”
“A-ah. Right.” Ashe steps closer to Dedue and, rising just slightly to his toes, leaves a kiss on Dedue’s cheek. “I’ll cat-ch you later, then?”
Ashe winks, and Dedue rolls his eyes.
The first customer enters the shop. Ashe turns on his customer service charm, but his eyes follow Dedue out.
And, of course, upon returning to his own shop, Wisteria is there, waiting at the counter. She blinks at him, chirps, and knocks the paperweight to the floor.
Well. Dedue supposes he now has a cat.
---
Later, much later, no pretense is needed when they decide to combine shops. Sure, it has added bonuses of less overall expenses and a wider audience, but there’s no reason to hide the real reason they purchase the larger building with the small upstairs apartment.
There’s talks of opening a small inn in the countryside, one that’s full of cats and flowers and delicious food for the patrons to enjoy. One where the namesake, an old girl who’s going to stay spunky and sprightly for years to come, can keep the growing family that owns the property wrapped around her little paw.
But for now, plans for the Wisteria Inn remain hidden, safe in a bedside drawer, ready to cultivate alongside an ever-growing, ever-changing love. Waiting for when the time is right.