Chapter Text
“Grimsley.”
The man in question shows no recognition of his name being called. In fact, his mind is completely elsewhere, entirely focused on something outside. If someone had asked him what currently has him so enraptured, he’d simply go on about what a nice day it is. Such a statement wouldn’t be a lie, after all. It definitely is wonderfully beautiful outside, with the door propped open to allow a cool spring breeze to circulate throughout the shop…
“Grimsleyyy…”
But of course, he’s not so easily distracted by nice weather. No, what really has his attention is a little shop down the street that’s so conveniently placed for him to have a perfect view of the front. Unfortunately he can’t see much of what’s going on inside, but maybe, just maybe if he looks long enough, he’ll get a little glimpse of–
“Grimsley!”
“AH– What? There’s no need to shout at me…”
“You’re doing it again.”
Grimsley lightly scoffs at his employee and friend, before attempting to fix his expression into a small, relaxed smirk. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Shaun~” He says with a casual wave of his hand, turning his back to the front windows and leaning against the checkout counter.
Shauntal huffs dramatically, putting her hands on her hips in protest. “Right, so you weren’t looking at that tattoo parlor across the street? The one with the…Oh, how did you put it? ‘The prettiest boy you’ve ever seen–’”
Grimsley suddenly bristles, whirling around to face the short woman with hands raised in surrender. “Okay! Okay! You caught me! Happy now?”
“Very!” She giggles with a delighted grin.
So maybe Grimsley has had his eyes on the owner of the mentioned tattoo parlor for a while, but who can really blame him? Burgh is… Well he would certainly stand by his statement that he’s the “prettiest boy he’s ever seen”. With green eyes that are more vibrant than any of the plants in his little shop and bouncy honey-brown curls that perfectly frame his face… Not to mention his charming and eccentric personality that draws Grimsley in more and more like a Combee to a flower.
…You could say he’s at least just a little smitten by this man.
“Grim? Are you even listening to me??”
The florist stiffens a bit as he realizes he’s been caught zoning out again. “Er, what was that, dear~?”
Shauntal rolls her eyes, adjusting her glasses before she repeats her sentence. “I said that you should ask him out! You two get along anyways! I think he really likes you!”
“He just likes to come in here and sketch the flowers, Shaun. It has nothing to do with me.”
She fixes Grimsley with a deadpan stare before dramatically sighing and throwing her hands out in defeat. “You really don’t notice the way he looks at you? You must be more oblivious than I thought…”
“Rude!”
“Oh! Speak of the devil–”
“What??? ” Grimsley’s head snaps toward the open door, revealing that Burgh is, in fact, approaching. He suddenly feels quite flustered, looking down to rapidly smooth out his red button-up and little black apron wrapped around his waist. Upon looking back up, Shauntal is nowhere to be seen, having disappeared much like the Ghost Types she adores so much.
“Grimsy~!” The florist doesn’t have any time to figure out where his dear companion went, because his attention is immediately being stolen by the man of his interest. His poor heart violently flutters at the nickname Burgh has assigned to him, making Grimsley vaguely wonder if he’s having a heart attack.
“Burgh~” He easily recovers. “Fancy seeing you here~ It’s not closing time yet, now is it~?”
A tinkling laugh is provided in response to his question, blue eyes intensely following the hand that moves to tuck away a strand of hair. “Oho, no no, not yet~” Burgh adjusts the tote bag hanging from his shoulder. “See, I noticed you received a new batch of flowers today. I’ve been buzzingly anticipating a moment to steal some sketches of them~” A smile spreads across lips painted green, which only has Grimsley subconsciously mirroring the movement with his own stained black.
It takes a moment for Grimsley to get over the idea of Burgh having needed to be paying attention to his own little shop to notice their floral delivery, then opening his mouth to respond. “Why of course~” He purrs. “You’re always welcome here~”
With a pleased hum, the artist moves to take a seat in one of two leather seats placed near the shop’s entrance. Meanwhile, Grimsley attempts to make himself look busy, bringing out one of their new bouquets of red roses. He had been de-thorning said roses before getting distracted, now continuing to carefully remove each dangerous tip with small clippers. Red roses may seem cliché, but Grimsley has always been quite fond of them. Of course, he’d never admit how his love for them has been influenced by his hopeless romantic tendencies. However, his bias for this particular flower is clearly obvious in how they adorn a vast majority of his little goth flower shop…
Grimsley finds their time spent together in silence soothing, each minute passing with the combined sounds of a pencil scratching against paper, the snipping of thorns, and the little Chimecho wind chimes ringing outside in the breeze. Lost in the moment, it seems like only seconds have gone by before Burgh is standing up to leave.
“Thank you for your time, dear~” That sing-song voice says.
Grimsley stores his clippers into the front pocket of his apron. “Certainly~! You know you’re always welcome to stop by~” And really, something must have possessed him at that very moment, because as soon as Burgh turns to leave, he chokes out a “Wait–”. Of course, the artist pauses and looks over his shoulder with an inquisitive brow. In a moment of panic, Grimsley snatches one of the newly bare roses, and rushes to walk around the counter. Burgh moves to fully face him once more as he approaches, expression openly curious.
“Here… Since you seemed to like them so much…~” He says in a muttered out sort of way, smoothly tucking the vibrant red flower behind the other man’s ear. A tint of pink is detected along Burgh’s cheeks, and Grimsley desperately hopes his own pale face isn’t burning as much as he thinks it is.
“Oh… Why, thank you, Grimsy…~” A backward step is made, which is probably for the best, because it feels as if his own heart is attempting to escape the confines of his chest. Truly it’s a wonder that the roaring in his ears isn’t audible to the man in front of him.
“Ah–” A rather pathetic noise is squeaked out from the florist as soon as that backwards step is taken away in lieu of two steps forward. Arceus, there’s no questioning about whether or not the blush on his cheeks is visible now . Grimsley can’t bring himself to move, not when a pressure is placed onto the side of his face. A pressure made by Burgh’s lips. The smallest, barely there kiss given as a thankful gesture for the rose.
“I’ll see you later~” Is the last thing said, though it could have honestly been a trick of the wind with how softly it was spoken. And then, Grimsley is alone, left hopelessly looking at Burgh’s back whilst he walks back down the street.
“Well that was painful to watch.”
“WH–” He stiffens in shock, spinning on his heel to embarrassedly face Shauntal. “Shut up!”
“Ehehe~”