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As was the usual system, the alarm on Alex’s phone went off for a third time, and he thumbed the snooze button and buried himself further into the warmth of Greg’s chest. Greg pulled him closer and frowned at the bit of sky he could see around the window blind, dark and threatening to storm. He nudged Alex, who let out a sleepy groan.
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Greg said quietly, voice still thick with sleep.
“No,” Alex grunted.
“You said you needed to get to the flower market early because of the rush.”
“Mmmmmphf.”
“I told you to get Key to do it but you didn’t listen to me.”
“They’d kill him.”
“That’s what I’m saying!”
Greg could feel his smile, even through the t-shirt. “We need him for deliveries today more than ever.”
“We need you for arrangements today more than ever, and we need flowers for those arrangements.”
Alex let out another grumble, and Greg kissed the top of his head. “Looks like rain, you should get up and try to beat the storm.”
Another whine from Alex, then he rolled away and stretched, finally ready to consider facing the day. “It’s cold,” he grumbled, but swung his feet over the edge of the bed.
“The middle of February is a miserable time for a holiday meant to celebrate love,” Greg said, watching as Alex padded over to the drawer he’d taken over in Greg’s dresser. “Surely this sort of thing should happen in the spring, where you could enjoy a picnic and a bottle of wine in the sunshine, holding hands on a stroll through the park.”
“Or,” Alex offered as he pulled out some clean clothes, “maybe a romantic holiday is just what the end of winter needs! An excuse to huddle indoors cozied up next to a fire, celebrating that you’ve got someone to cozy up with at all.”
“What about the people who haven’t got someone to cozy up with?” Greg asked as he dragged himself out of bed as well. “What have they got to ward off the winter chill with?”
“Hmm. Chocolates?” Alex offered with a smile. “If we survive the day at the shop, can we come back here and cozy up together?”
“Too bad neither of us has a fireplace,” Greg chuckled. Alex pouted up at him, and Greg kissed his creased forehead. “Get yourself into the shower so you can tackle the busiest day of the year, I’ll whip up a quick breakfast.” Alex pressed a quick peck to his lips and turned to head to the bathroom, but Greg grabbed his hand to boomerang him back into his chest with a grin and a quiet ‘oof.’ “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”
“Hmm, happy Valentine’s Day,” he agreed with one more soft kiss.
“Go on then,” Greg said with a giggle and a swat at Alex’s butt as he pushed him towards the bathroom one last time, Alex grinning over his shoulder at him as he went.
When Greg popped into the Off Menu Cafe an hour or so later to get the largest coffees they’d offer for the whole staff to help them gird their loins for the holiday rush, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see the whole place full of pops of pink and red. There were, of course, the flowers that his shop (well, Alex’s shop — everyone’s shop, really) provided, an absolute mountain of pink and white mums on either end of the counter. There was bunting along the board of daily specials, heart decals clinging to the bakery display, itself overflowing with pink and heart-shaped offerings, and a truly startling paper cutout of Cupid taped to the glass door, threatening to strike customers with his arrow as they entered, and showing his naked bottom to them as they left.
“Good morning, Gregory!”
“Jesus, Nish, it’s like Saint Valentine himself vomited all over your shop!”
“You should’ve seen it yesterday, Ed made Lolly take the kissy dinosaur home.”
“I don’t think I want to ask, do I?” Greg asked with a chuckle.
“I miss him, he was adorable!” Jessica argued as she bustled in with even more heart-shaped biscuits with royal icing and those ridiculous edible ball bearings.
“Too adorable,” Nish said. “He was causing backups at the register, everyone wanted a selfie with him.”
“Well, rest assured nobody’s missing your enthusiasm for the holiday even without the dinosaur.”
“Usuals?” Nish asked. “In bucket form, maybe, to get you through the day?”
“IV bags if you’ve got ‘em,” Greg groaned. “It was bad enough leading up to today, I don’t think I’m prepared. At least Key will be mostly out of our hair with the mountain of deliveries going out.”
“Extra large for everybody, extra hot for Key, out in his cold van,” Jessica agreed, and scurried about to start on drinks.
“Where’s Acaster?” Greg asked, distracting Nish as he ground some beans. “I put in a special order for today?”
Nish rolled his eyes. “I was told they’re coming in late, they’re ’celebrating early’.” Nish cringed dramatically, and let Jessica take over with brewing the coffee.
“Oh, let the boys have their fun,” Greg chuckled, “Just because you’re the only single one doesn’t mean—”
“Single by choice!” Nish yelped.
“Sure,” Jessica teased, turning quickly back to the espresso machine.
“We don’t all need romance to be fulfilled, Mr Davies.”
“But being filled sometimes helps.”
“Jess!” Nish yelped, trying to sound indignant through the laugh, while Greg gestured at her with raised eyebrows.
“The girl’s not wrong, you should try it sometime.”
“Here I am, trying to celebrate a holiday about love and you’re dragging Cupid down into the gutter! Shame on both of you.”
Greg turned his gesture towards the naked cherub ass on the door. “I think he likes it down here with us.”
Nish finally let out one of his cackling laughs and added a healthy amount of chocolate syrup to a very large cup as Jessica handed it over. “Right. Well. When James bothers to drag himself out of his little love nest, I’ll remind him about your order.”
“Even your cupcakes are cream filled,” Jessica smirked over her shoulder, and Nish let out a howl, but clamped a hand over his mouth as an older couple entered, hand in mittened hand.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Nish managed to get out after a brief moment to compose himself. “What can I get started for you?”
As Greg left the cafe with four gigantic coffees, he was surprised to see it was Tim who was first to the shop, struggling with a key he seldom used to unlock the front door. But Mark was scurrying up the road with a telltale pink and white striped bag from Tarbuck’s Bakery, hopefully with pastries to keep their blood sugar up. “Morning, lads,” Tim grunted as the door finally gave way and he stumbled into the shop, which was already all but overflowing with roses, the aroma almost too sweet to breathe through at first.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Mark chirped, holding the bag up as he followed Tim inside. “Abbie sends her love, and her heart-shaped raspberry danishes!”
“Nish sends a confusing love of the holiday and refusal to find a romantic partner, and the biggest containers of coffee at his disposal!” Greg set the coffees out around the work table, which was still strewn with stray carnations and ferns from the previous night’s marathon arrangement session. He shrugged off his coat, and took Mark’s and Tim’s to hang up in the corner. “Acaster should be around later with more more provisions as the day progresses, if he can drag himself out from under Gamble, that is.”
“Aah, to be young again,” Mark chuckled as he started poking at the contents of the bag and Tim cleared away some of the debris on the table.
“They’re only, what, five years younger than you?” Greg said.
“Oh, right, sorry, forgot about the old man in the room,” Tim laughed. “No pre-work quickies for you and Horne?”
“Not on market days, no,” Greg shrugged, “too tired from the night before.” He winked at Tim, who rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, those exciting games of canasta and backgammon must be really draining for you.”
“Don’t listen to him, Greg, he’s just lashing out because he can’t spend Valentine’s Day with Penelope.”
“We’ll be celebrating our own Valentine’s Day when she’s in town next week after her convention, don’t you worry about that. It’s not the day that’s important, it’s the spending time together! Not gonna let some fat baby angel tell me how to celebrate my feelings for my partner.”
“You’re one to speak, you’ll celebrate by going to the aquarium or a museum about teeth or something, regardless.”
Alex stumbled in through the back door, arms laden with pink carnations, a rainbow of chrysanthemums, and somehow even more red roses. Tim and Greg both stepped in to help him unload, while Mark cleared space on the workbench. “I’ll have you know we’ve already planned a trip to an historic garden,” Tim huffed.
“You and Penny?” Alex asked.
“And I’ll bet they’ll hold hands and enjoy the sunshine and maybe a cheeky glass of wine?” Greg teased.
“Only because Tim doesn’t have a fireplace either,” Alex pouted as he detangled himself from the mass of blooms, but then he held up a single orange rosebud to Greg with one of his silly, beaming, gap-toothed smiles. The bell behind him rang as the morning’s first customer trundled in, so Greg snatched the bud from Alex and gave him a smacking kiss on the forehead as he slid the flower into his buttonhole and turned to the customer.
“Aah, happy Valentine’s Day, miss, are we looking for anything in particular this morning?”
When Ed and James eventually stumbled in through the front door of the nearly empty cafe, bundled up in coats and scarves, it would have been easy enough to blame their flushed faces on the cold. “Look who the cat dragged in,” Jessica said in her best disapproving voice as they slipped into the back room to prepare for the day.
“We told you yesterday that we’d be in late,” Ed grumbled over the sound of the sink turning on. “And on top of that, we said we’d be an hour late, and we’re only 51 minutes late!”
“You shouldn’t’ve rushed on our account,” she teased, poking her head around the corner. “Think of what you could’ve done with those extra nine minutes!”
“We could’ve had more chocolate syrup after all,” James huffed from inside the refrigerator.
Even from his position around the corner wiping down the espresso machine, Nish let out a scandalized gasp. “Nobody wants to hear about it, Acaster!”
“It was breakfast!” Ed shouted as he came around the corner, wiping his hands. “We celebrated with a nice, homemade breakfast, and I obviously didn’t make enough cherry-chocolate syrup for this maniac’s pancakes, and I told him we didn’t have the time to whip up some more.”
“A likely story,” Jessica said, but turned her attention back to the muffin she’d been working her way through during the mid-morning lull.
“And one I’m happy to accept,” Nish said. “Greg’s asking about his order, Acaster.”
“Oh shit!” James gasped from somewhere in the back room, followed by a clatter of pans. “I was so busy with everything else that I forgot all about it!”
“Well, I recommend you get on that,” Nish said, “but they’ll be so busy with the Valentine’s Day rush that he probably won’t miss it until closing anyway.”
James appeared at the doorway with a box and thrust it at Nish. “Can you deal with these for me, please?” Nish raised an eyebrow. “If Greg kills me, I can’t bake you any more cakes.”
Nish grabbed the box. “Get my coat, Edward, I have business to attend to!” Ed rolled his eyes, and Nish turned to the reluctant giggle from the table near the door. “There’s gotta be one in here for you somewhere, Darcy,” he muttered, digging through the box as he approached her table. “Aah!” He pulled out a small paper bag with the cafe’s logo rubber-stamped onto it, and dropped it next to her mug.
Darcy squinted up at him suspiciously, but opened the bag and pulled out a heart-shaped biscuit coated in lavender royal icing with what she had learned was Ed’s ever-improving attempt at piped letters spelling out: YOU’RE A FUNGI. Her squint immediately dropped to a disapproving glare, and Nish’s gleeful laughter rang through the cafe.
“Because of your fungus studies!” Ed explained, his smile wide and bright and cheeky as he handed Nish his coat.
“Yes, I caught onto that, thanks.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Darcy!” James called from the bowels of the kitchen.
“Is that whole box just terrible love heart puns?”
“Yup,” Nish nodded excitedly as he shimmied into his coat sleeves.
“They’re not all terrible,” Ed argued with a pout.
“Tasty though,” Jessica offered. Darcy gave a knowing shrug and bit into the biscuit. It was soft enough that the icing didn’t shatter in all directions, and tasted of butter and vanilla and the tiniest hint of lemon.
“It’s delicious, James!” Darcy shouted towards the kitchen.
“And for Ed?” Ed demanded, hands on hips and his pout even deeper.
“Work on your puns.”
“Darcy’s next latte is on me,” Nish called over his shoulder as he pushed his way out the door with his box of treats. His grin was quickly replaced with a soft ‘oof’ as he caught sight of the flurry of activity at the flower shop across the road. The window display of rose bouquets that had been full when they’d opened was half empty, revealing customers and florists alike moving about inside, passing bundles of red and pink and purple between themselves. He’d save their biscuits for later.
At the yarn shop, the Joes were huddled around something that looked like a broken umbrella bolted to the table, scratching their heads and poking at a mass of tangled yarn wrapped around the device. Between whatever that disaster was, and what he knew were the worst puns of the lot, Nish knew better than to get involved. He poked his head inside, shouted, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” and left the bag of biscuits on a table next to the door, nestled between two balls of incredibly vibrant wool. He waited just long enough to get a wave from Joe and a “Fuck off,” from Jo before retreating back to the pavement with a laugh.
A sandwich board outside the tattoo shop advertised a special Valentine’s Day flash event, with drawings of hearts both puffy and broken, linked wedding rings, and a cheeky, demonic Cupid with pointy horns and a crossbow. The place was surprisingly busy, with Guz and Sophie each working on a tattoo, and a handful of people waiting at the front. Morgana came in from the back room with a grin and a wave, holding up a finger to say she’d be with him in a minute before turning to the couple waiting for her, so he loitered at the far end of the front desk.
“And there’s the paperwork all sorted!” She dropped her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her folded hands. “What is it you’ve decided on?” One of the women tapped on the flash sheet, but Nish couldn’t quite make out what it was. “Oh! That’s such a good choice, I love that one! One of the artist’s faves as well. And you?”
“Oh, same,” the other woman said with a hint of a giggle.
“Matching hand-holding tattoos?” Morgana gasped, clutching at her chest. “My heart! It’s perfect. The artist isn’t available for another, oh, twenty minutes?” The couple nodded and thanked her and left to find a spot to wait, hand in hand. Morgana turned to Nish with a grin. “Disgusting, isn’t it, people in love.”
“It’s going around,” Nish cringed, “either one of us could be next!”
“I reckon you’ll go before I do,” she said, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. “You’re too adorable to survive the pandemic.”
He cocked his head at her. “Thanks?”
“What can I do for you, Nish,” she said, leaning on the counter towards him.
“Oh! Just some gifts from the cafe!” He nudged the bag towards her. “I think it’s a symptom of that ‘being in love’ thing, the fellas are really feeling the spirit of the day.”
Morgana had already opened the bag and pulled out the top biscuit. “It says ‘You’re ink-credible’,” she cooed. “That’s so stupid, I love it!”
“There’s one for each of you,” Nish enthused, and she peered into the bag.
“Guys,” she called back into the studio, “the Off Menu boys sent over treats, there’s a biscuit that says ‘I’m ink love’ and one that says ‘Tats Amore’, one for each of you.”
“Thank you, brother!” Guz called with a wave.
“That’s the best puns you guys could come up with?” Sophie teased, but Guz was already doing his best Dean Martin impersonation, getting a giggle out of the young man who seemed to be getting a heart-shaped slice of pizza tattooed on his shoulder. “That’s the third time he’s sung this song today, you know,” Sophie said pointedly at Nish.
“When the moon his your eye like a big pizza pie that’s…amore,” Guz crooned only slightly off-key but in the altogether wrong register. “Hey! Not my fault everyone loves the passion pizza! You want a slice, Nish?”
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Nish announced with a cautious laugh.
“Here when you change your mind!” Guz said, but he was already back at the pizza tattoo.
“Thanks for the biscuits!” Sophie called.
“Thanks, Nish, and send the boys our love,” Morgana cooed.
“Will do! Happy Valentine’s Day, and good luck out there!”
“I’m taking every precaution,” Morgana said sternly, snapping on a fresh pair of rubber gloves as he grabbed his box and left the shop with a giggle as she cheerfully called the name of her next victim.
With a glance up the street it was apparent that the flower shop was still being overwhelmed, so he turned back down the street where Tarbuck’s sat at the next corner, but even from four doors away he could smell the rose water and vanilla and warm, sticky fruits wafting from the bakery. Several people were queued up, almost all of them with bouquets that likely came from Horne’s. “Have the florists told all of you about the macarons?” a slightly disheveled Sarah demanded, with murmurs of agreement in return from the queue.
“She did use them to woo her fiancé,” Desiree announced from behind Nish, where she was wiping down tables, “they’re a little bit magical.”
“And he used those lilies of his to woo me, so if you’re looking to double your luck, check out Key, Horne and Watson florists just up the street if you haven’t already,” Abigail laughed from inside the display cabinet, where she was cutting a slice of cake with beautifully piped roses.
“And her cupcakes did their magic on my coworkers up at the Off Menu Cafe,” Nish offered. “I don’t think our coffee is magical, but come on down!”
The customers gave a chuckle as Sarah worked at filling small boxes with pink, white and purple macarons. “Are you here for pastries as well, Mr Kumar?” Desiree asked as she leaned against a sparkling clean table.
“Biscuit delivery!” he chirped, pulling one of the last bags from his box and plopping it onto the table. “One for each of you!”
“Funny you should say that!” She took a few steps to the back counter and grabbed one of their striped boxes. “Enough to go around at your shop as well!”
They exchanged gifts and excitedly opened them. Desiree’s box held half a dozen miniature cupcakes, seemingly a mixture of chocolate and something dyed pink, each with a dollop of dark red buttercream and a white chocolate heart dusted with gold. The smell of strawberry was intoxicating, and Nish briefly wondered if he could get away with hiding them from the others. Meanwhile, Desiree was chuckling away at the cookies one by one. “I’m in loaf,” she read with a grin. “I like big bunts?!” she gasped, giving Nish a surprised look, but then she half collapsed into the table at the third. “Nish, this is so stupid, what does it even mean?!” The last one said ‘SIT ON MY CAKE’ complete with two exclamation points.
“Ed swears it makes sense to Liza, but maybe it never got round to you guys?”
“I don’t even want to know,” Sarah said with a puzzled frown.
“I’m certainly not going to ask,” Abigail agreed.
“Well thanks for the confusing cookies, Nish,” Desire grinned, “tell Ed he’s weird but I’m glad he’s keeping up on his lettering practice, and tell James the cookies are perfect.”
“Will do!”
“Did you, uh, have a lot of these things to give out?” she asked.
“Oh, well, there was the tattoo shop, the yarn shop, you guys, the florists if they’re ever not swamped, and then the last ones for Noel and Mawaan around the corner at the art shop.”
“Oh good, our lists basically overlap,” she laughed. “Abbie’s gonna love bomb the florists at the end of their shift with a stupid amount of cupcakes.”
Nish let out a cackle. “That’s great, ‘cause Greg ordered a mountain of cupcakes from James as well that we’re saving for the end of their shift!”
“Wow, we’re gonna have the whole street so hopped up on sugar,” Desiree said with a little celebratory dance. “Party at the flower shop, everyone’s gonna be going all night long!”
“You have party plans for your evening?” Nish asked.
“Well, my man’s gonna make us a nice dinner, but I might pop in on the florists and see if maybe there’s a few surplus Acaster cupcakes to take home with me,” she said with a wink.
“I’ll make sure there’s some surplus,” Nish said with a much less practiced wink. “See ya then, I guess!”
“Good luck with your deliveries, warm ‘em up for us.”
“Thanks, Nish!” Abigail shouted over the heads of her customers, and Sarah gave a distracted wave that he returned as he stepped out into the cold again. A glance up the street showed an actual queue out the front of the florists’, so he turned on his heels towards the art supply shop on the next block.
It was fifteen minutes after closing when Mark managed to usher the last customer out the door with an armload of pink roses and a rush of thank-yous from them both. Greg collapsed across the counter, Alex dropped his elbows onto the workbench and hung his head between his shoulders, and Tim just sprawled across the floor outside the cooler, heedless of the stray leaves and stems and petals. “What a day!” Mark breathed as he slumped against the door, the ‘closed’ sign swinging jauntily in the window.
“Did we survive?” Alex asked, voice muffled by his apron.
“I’m not sure about Key, but the rest of us did, just barely,” Greg grumbled.
“I’m not sure about Key either,” Tim grumbled into his hands as he rubbed his face.
“Hands off your face,” Alex mumbled, not even bothering to look at Tim.
“Well done, chaps,” Mark said, and dragged himself to his stool at the workbench.
“Somebody should clean this place up,” Alex sighed, but made no move to do so.
“I think that’s a problem for tomorrow us,” Tim grumbled, followed by a groan as he allowed Greg to drag him up by the hand, and they both made their way to the workbench.
“Is there still coffee?” Greg asked.
“No,” Alex sighed. “I’d offer to make some but I don’t think I can feel my hands.”
“You’re sure we can’t just close tomorrow and stay in bed all day?” Greg asked.
“There’s the bat mitzvah to start on tomorrow,” Alex grunted, and stretched across the table. Greg rubbed his back and he let out a more comforted moan.
“Fair enough,” Greg sighed. “We don’t even have that fireplace anyway.” Alex let out a chuckle.
“We’ll all end up waiting to celebrate Valentine’s next week when we’re properly recovered,” Mark said with a tired smile.
“It’s a great idea,” Tim said, “chocolates’ll be discounted, get more romance for your buck! Worked out for the best after all.”
“I think he’s lonely,” Greg whispered to Alex.
“And overcompensating,” Alex nodded.
“Too tired to overcompensate,” Tim grumbled.
A knock sounded at the door, and Tim reflexively shouted, “Fuck off!” while Mark called out, “We’re closed!”
“We’ve got baked goods!” a cheeky voice called back.
Mark leaned over to glance through the windows. “Oh no, it’s the Off Menu guys.”
“Oh!” Greg stumbled to his feet, his muscles already stiffening, and unlocked the door to let them in. James had a cake box in his hands, with several smaller bags on top, and he sauntered in, Ed and Nish in tow, to deposit the box gently onto the table.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Nish yelped, earning unenthusiastic grunts from the florists. “Oh, right.”
“Sounds like we got here just in time,” Ed said with an outrageously enthusiastic grin. “If these don’t perk you up, nothing will!” James had set a bag in front of each of them at the table, and Ed opened the box with a flourish. Inside were at least two dozen mini cupcakes that smelled of coffee and chocolate and vanilla and…whiskey?
“Espresso bourbon cupcakes, courtesy of Mr Davies,” James announced.
“The perfect pick me up after running yourselves ragged providing tokens of love to half of London,” Nish chirped.
“Thanks, guys,” Alex said with a smile up at James and a squeeze of Greg’s hand.
Mark was already halfway through one of the cupcakes, while Tim was cautiously opening the bag set before him. “Yeah, yeah, open yours up, Tim, you’ll love this,” Ed urged.
Tim gave him a wary look, but reached into the bag to pull out a heart-shaped biscuit coated in pink icing and white letters. “All prose, no cons,” he read out. “Disgraceful. Absolute feces pun, Gamble. I’m a poet, y’know, I actually respect words?”
“Your last poem was about sausages,” Greg said.
“And I wrote very respectfully about those sausages, what’s your point?” Tim bit into his biscuit, savored it for a moment, and gave James a thumbs up while he chewed.
James beamed at the compliment, and nodded to Mark. “Yours now, Watto.”
Mark stuck his tongue out with excitement as he pulled out his biscuit. “Kiss my tulips.” He looked up at Ed. “Not much better, is it?”
“Hey, I wrote on a lot of biscuits, okay? It’s hard to come up with something cute for all of you naysayers,” Ed pouted.
“I appreciate you,” Alex soothed.
“Thank you,” Ed said with a little bow. “It’s your turn, Alex, I hope you appreciate it.”
But before he could open his bag, the bakers from Tarbuck’s pushed their way inside with a box of their own. “Just crashing the party with more treats!” Abbie announced, pushing her way to the table to set up her box of cupcakes next to James’s, which Desiree wasted no time reaching into.
“We brought extras for Ed and James,” Sarah explained, “in case Nish ate the ones we gave him on the way back to the cafe.”
“I only ate one!” Nish said, even as he was grabbing another from the box.
“He ate three,” James countered as Ed reached for one of Abbie’s cupcakes.
“How are you still alive?” Greg asked as he gingerly peeled the liner from one of James’s.
“That tiny cupcake looks so ridiculous in your hands,” Mark chuckled. “You could pop those things like grapes!”
“Does his giant hands make everything look tiny, Horne?” Tim teased.
“I’ll pop you like a grape, Key.” Regardless, Greg popped the cupcake into his mouth in one go and reached for one of Abbie’s next.
“Hold on, everyone, Alex was going to see what his love heart says!” Ed called over the murmur of the room, everyone grabbing at treats. Alex looked up, surprised, with a pink cupcake in his mouth and red buttercream in his beard.
“Oh no, Ed must be proud of this pun,” Desiree groaned.
“I’m proud alright,” Ed smirked. “Go on!”
With a wary sideways glance, he reached into the bag. His face fell to a frown as he felt around a bit more. He pulled the biscuit out and stared at it for a moment. “I don’t think I understand?” He turned it around to reveal an actual, physical key stuck to the biscuit with a generous dollop of royal icing, and little red hearts surrounding it.
Greg reached into his own bag to reveal his biscuit had a somewhat crudely drawn keyhole. “Given the theme of today’s discussions I think I should actually offer that we find a new place together, one with a fireplace?”
Every eye in the room moved from Greg’s cautious smile to Alex’s dumbfounded stare, watching the exhausted cogs turn. Alex blinked at him as his brows furrowed. “Are you – is this – what?!”
“It is the actual key to my flat, and I realize now that you’ll have to chew it out of the biscuit, which may not be the most romantic gesture I could have devised. But yes, Alex, I’m suggesting rather hopefully that you move in with me. Or I could move in with you, but my flat’s actually closer to the shop—”
Alex had abandoned the biscuit on the table and lunged at Greg, nearly knocking him off the stool as he wrapped his arms around his neck, sliding Greg’s glasses across the bridge of his nose as he peppered his face with ridiculous, giggling, strawberry flavored kisses.
“I guess we take that as a yes?” Desiree said with a laugh.
“Only if we can really get a fireplace,” Alex said, trying to pull away even as Greg’s hands grabbed at his waist.
“Whatever it takes,” Greg smirked, and leaned up to give him another kiss.
“Oh get a room, you two,” Tim teased as he popped the last of his biscuit into his mouth.
Alex rested his forehead against Greg’s. “It’s probably time to get rid of him,” he said in an overly dramatic stage whisper.
“Pardon?” Tim asked, surprised, and when Greg released Alex and stood to his full height over Tim, his eyes got even wider.
“Come with me, Key,” he grunted.
Tim looked to Alex for help, but he was gigging to himself, so it couldn’t be too bad? He followed Greg to the front counter as the conversation behind them returned to baked goods and plans for the evening, and groaned as Greg pulled out the clipboard of invoices for deliveries. “Oh no, you can’t be serious!”
“Afraid I’ve got one last delivery for you.” Greg reached up to grab a small bouquet of white roses and yellow cosmos from the shelf behind the register, which he dropped next to the clipboard, then tapped at the delivery information.
Tim scowled up at him. “That’s my address.”
“And who are the flowers for?”
He turned his scowl back to the invoice. “Penelope Pitstop. I don’t get it.”
“God you’re thick,” Greg sighed.
“She’s in France! She won’t be here for another week.”
Greg blinked at him.
Tim raised his eyebrows.
Greg put his hands on his hips with a huff.
“Is she actually here? In London?” Tim finally gasped.
“In your flat, more like.”
Greg watched the excitement bloom in Tim’s eyes and a renewed wave of energy bubble up from inside him. “Well why didn’t you say so, man!?” he shouted as he grabbed for his coat on the hook in the corner.
“She asked me to tell you after your shift, I just do what I’m told.”
With just one arm in his jacket, Tim stood on his tiptoes and reached up his other arm around Greg’s neck to tug him down to plant a smacking kiss on his temple. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” he yelped as Greg pawed at his forehead with a playful grimace. Tim kissed the side of Alex’s head as he passed his stool, and gave Ed a playful punch in the arm.
“That’s the last anyone’ll see of old Keysie for awhile,” Mark said with a grin as Abigail leaned into him, her arm around his shoulders.
“Go get ‘er, Timmy,” Nish cheered as Tim dashed out the door, into the cold evening air, still fighting his second sleeve and ignoring a shout from James about the flowers he’d left behind. He made it to the end of the block, heart pounding from excitement and anticipation and the stupid exertion of jogging in the biting cold after the day he’d had, and barely slowed to make the turn before he stopped in his tracks, shocked beyond measure to see Penelope herself approaching in a bright pink pea coat with what appeared to be his portable suitcase-style record player in one hand.
She spotted him him as well, and watching the smile bloom across her face made his heart flutter. She sauntered towards him, then set the record player down at his side, followed by the couple of records she’d had under her arm, and grinned at him. “You’re here,” he breathed.
“So are you,” she agreed.
“The convention?”
“I missed you too much?”
Tim let out a surprised hoot of a laugh and pulled her close. “I know the feeling,” he said, and leaned into her kiss as he wrapped her up in his arms.
The kiss was gentle and teasing and quick, and when she pulled away with a smile, she cupped his cheeks in her hands. “Beard needs a trim.”
“You’re a week early!” he cried. “Not a crit, though, come as early and as often as you like!”
“Oh, I plan to,” she said, and struggled to drop a kiss on his cheek while he let out a laugh. “Now, Abbie says there’s a party?”
“What? Oh!” Tim watched as she retrieved the record player and LPs. “Is that what the records are for?” he asked as he took the player from her so he could hold her hand as they headed back to the flower shop.
She held the records out so he could see the cover of the top one – seven men in tailored suits and hats who clearly couldn’t decide if they were a jazz band or extras in a film noir, with ‘Fourmilière Foule’ written in bold type across the bottom. “I found these amazing records, it’s 1960s Parisian lounge music, it’s absolutely filthy, you’ll love it. And I was thinking that if I’m going to submit that permanent residency paperwork and be stuck with you for a bit, the least I could do is teach you to dance. I thought I’d surprise you when you got home, but a Valentine’s Day dance party with the whole gang sounds like something we shouldn’t miss.”
“There’s baked goods,” Tim nodded.
“Yeah, Abbie warned me.”
“Wait, hang on a second!” Tim stopped and pulled her against a storefront, away from the milling crowds on the high street. “You’re really—the application?!”
She grinned at him. “Morgana’s going to sponsor a work visa, I’ll invest in her shop, it should—”
He cut her off with another kiss, giggly and excited and filled with hope for the future.
“Time and place, guys,” a voice teased from beside them, and Tim hastily pulled away, blinking wide-eyed at Morgana until he realized they’d been huddled against a window of the tattoo parlor.
“Dance party at the florist?” Penelope asked, holding up the records.
“One step ahead of ya,” Morgana grinned, holding up two bottles of champagne as she stepped out of the doorway. “Come on, you two!”
“Happy Valentine’s, guys,” Guz gushed as he rushed out, followed by Sophie who was holding up two bottles of red wine and sticking her tongue out, clearly ready to party.
They bustled down the street, gesturing with bottles and thumbs-up at the Joes through the window as they went. When they pushed into the flower shop, warm with laughter and still smelling of roses and strawberry buttercream, those already inside let out a cheer. Greg took the record player from Tim and the records from Penelope with a kiss to her cheek while the others welcomed her home with hugs. In no time the records were playing, the champagne was popped, and tired couples were swaying to the music. Penelope was trying and mostly failing to get Tim to move his hips while Morgana twirled a giggling Nish by the hand and Greg held Alex close. Jo even joined the party, letting Joe try to lead her into a dance more enthusiastic than she was willing to indulge.
With exhaustion largely masked by coffee cupcakes and champagne bubbles and cheeks flushed with laughter and dancing and love in all its forms, the impromptu party at the flower shop went into the night. Eventually people stumbled home, some leaving early to bring baked goods to loved ones and celebrations of their own, some falling into cozy beds together, and even those who went home alone, their beds were warmed by full hearts.
Alex and Greg were the last to leave, locking up the shop and dragging themselves hand in hand back to Greg’s flat for the night. Their flat. Until they could find one with a fireplace.