Work Text:
Routine was important to Jimmy. Routine was predictable. Routine let him know what to expect. Jimmy would occasionally stray from his routine as a perfectly routine day was impossible, but it was much less likely that he would add something to it, though it could happen. He wasn’t that stuck in his ways! He just liked what he liked… what was wrong with that?
People would sometimes act like he was clueless or assume things from him that simply weren’t true. He wasn’t dumb or unintelligent just because he didn’t always pick up everything others hinted at with whatever secret code they learned just by being born. It was obvious that life wasn’t very predictable and that things would change, but there were certain notes that Jimmy needed to hit on certain days or else he would have a meltdown. Or a “temper tantrum”, as many called it growing up because, stars forbid, he has emotions and autism.
Visiting the flower shop on his way home from work was supposed to be a temporary addition to his schedule. He had first gone to Chromia Valley to buy flowers for Lizzie after she had an unfortunate run-in with a grease fire while testing a new recipe for her bakery. Jimmy thought it would be a nice gesture. Plus, it gave him an excuse to check out a local flower shop.
Jimmy loved flowers and he knew that he didn’t need an excuse to visit a public business like Chromia Valley, but it was new. New places scared him (terrified him, even) and he knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t stop the fear from eating out his insides. When he had an excuse or someone he trusted with him, it helped him be more adventurous and try new things. It was like tricking his brain, if that made any sense.
That had been the first time out of what soon became a regular visit. Now, Chromia Valley was safe and comfortable. He knew the people who worked there by name and they knew him in return.
Jimmy used his molars to bite down on yellow silicon. The silicon was shaped like a feather and attached to a black cord that wrapped around Jimmy’s neck to form a necklace. He’d had a particularly frustrating day at work and was taking it out on the poor piece of sensory-regulating jewelry. It wouldn’t have been as bad if he hadn’t lost his noise canceling headphones, therefore having to go without them all day.
The overstimulation was so bad that Jimmy heavily considered skipping his after-work stop at the flower shop, but, when he spotted the sign for Chromia Valley along the sidewalk, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing. Perhaps spending time there was the perfect thing to help the tension building in his shoulders and give his jaw a rest from chewing his poor stim toy to pieces.
A soft ding sounded and a pale white light flashed when Jimmy entered the shop, alerting those inside there was a customer. He was greeted with a strong, yet not unwelcomed, scent of flowers, though that was no surprise considering where he had entered. There were plenty of pre-arranged flower bouquets lining the designated wall, clearly where the scent most prevalently came from. In addition to the flowers, there were a variety of pots and plant care items organized in their proper places.
An employee with fiery red hair, piercing green eyes and a name tag on their apron stood at the cash register. They had such an abundance of hair that Jimmy wasn’t sure how they managed to take care of it. Jimmy wouldn’t consider himself to have long hair, especially not to the extent she did, but he felt as if it was enough work on his own. That wasn’t to mention the countless haircuts he needed to ensure his hair didn’t grow long enough to touch his shoulders. Once it got that long, it would slip under his shirts, and it was such a foreign sensation that he simply didn’t like it. It was almost as bad as a particularly itchy clothing tag.
“Hey there, Jimmy,” Cleo greeted as he entered. She didn’t wait for a greeting back nor did she give him that off-putting customer service smile some people put on, which Jimmy appreciated. Talking to employees, even ones he knew, tended to trigger the social script he had learned as a child. It wasn’t the most comfortable to follow, especially when he was already feeling on edge. “Are you looking for Scott or are you here to buy some flowers?”
Jimmy opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. His chest felt heavy and his vocal cords felt tangled up. If he tried hard enough, he could say he was physically capable of doing so, but, currently, it was difficult. He hadn’t realized he had gone nonverbal since leaving work. Instead of speaking a response, Jimmy fingerspelled, “S-C-O-T-T.”
“I figured.” Cleo wasn’t deaf themself, but they knew sign language, meaning they understood what Jimmy was trying to communicate. Still, when there weren’t any deaf or hard-of-hearing people in the room, Cleo tended to favor speaking verbally rather than with their hands. Jimmy didn’t mind; his hearing worked perfectly fine, though he would argue it worked too well at times. She jutted her head toward the doors that lead toward the flower nursery. “He’s out back last I checked. He’s supposed to be prepping orders for pick-up, but he should be almost done. He’s been doing it for a while now, but you know how he gets lost in it.”
The flower shop they were standing in was only a portion of what was found within Chromia Valley, for they also grew their own flowers! Customers could pay an additional fee to go back there and hand select flowers themselves, or they could request custom bouquets. Any extras would get sold to other local businesses, such as the little flower coolers in grocery stores or restaurants that leave flowers out on their tables in small vases.
Jimmy pressed his finger tips against his chin before moving his flattened hand down and away from himself, signing “thank you” before turning his body to head towards the back. As Cleo described, Scott was among the flowers, collecting purple lilacs.
One of Jimmy’s special interests was plants, which included flowers of all types. He had a long history of obsessing over them and researching them to back up that claim, but he was lacking in a certain area: flower language and symbolism. Jimmy had stumbled upon it before, sure, and he was vaguely aware of its existence, but flower language had been low on Jimmy’s list of things he wanted to focus on when conducting research on nature.
His love of plants and flowers had stemmed from his other special interest in birds. Jimmy had wanted to explore what birds eat and how birds’ habitats affect their growth, and it evolved from there. He had been more interested in how flowers and other various plants developed and crossbred with each other, not what they had come to symbolize. Jimmy simply didn’t care.
At least, he hadn’t cared until he started talking with Scott. Well, “talking” wasn’t the correct word, considering Scott was deaf and they communicated through signs and gestures, but it was close enough.
He was getting off track and procrastinating. He couldn’t just stand here and stare at the florist with fluffy, dyed blue hair and eyes that sparkled like stars… the very florist who was the reason Jimmy knew that purple lilacs symbolized the first emotions of love.
Jimmy was never one to step lightly, often tripping over himself and making an audible thump every time he tried to walk flat footed. He was much more stealthy when on his tip toes, but he had been lectured out of that habit as a child. As an adult, he did his best to give himself time to unmask and self-soothe, but it was still difficult. Jimmy felt safe around Scott, for he didn’t mind Jimmy’s quirks and he knew Scott wouldn’t say anything about him walking on his toes, but his heavy steps provided enough vibration for Scott to sense his presence– so Jimmy chose to walk as he was taught.
Scott turned toward Jimmy as he started moving, face lighting up at the sight of him. He started to sign widely and excitedly. “You’re here! I thought you weren’t going to show up today.”
That was how Jimmy read it, at the very least. He was still learning to sign himself, so sometimes his mind would fill in the gaps. Jimmy tried not to do that sort of thing too much, since he wanted to learn sign language properly, but his brain often had other plans. He has improved greatly since practicing and learning from Scott, though! Jimmy was making quicker progress with it than when he was attempting to learn from various youtube videos to help when he went nonverbal, anyway.
“Sorry,” Jimmy signed back, shifting his facial expression to punctuate the apology properly. “Work kept me late and it was…”
Jimmy stopped signing, furrowing his eyebrows. What was the sign he was looking for? Or the word? Stars, words were hard sometimes. He bit his tongue sharply as he fingerspelled, “H-A-R-D.” “Difficult” or “overwhelming” may have also been good words, but they were longer and would have taken more time to fingerspell. Jimmy had memorized all his letters, sure, but he would still sometimes get lost on where he was when the word was on the lengthier side.
Scott repeated Jimmy’s fingerspelling and then demonstrated what Jimmy assumed was how to sign “hard”. Jimmy copied what Scott did, hesitant and waiting for Scott’s approval. When Scott gave it with an encouraging nod and a celebratory hand gesture, Jimmy relaxed with a shaky breath and half smile. “Work was hard.”
“At least it is Thursday. You don’t work weekends, so you have one more day to work and then you are done!” Scott surveyed the flower gardens around him before heavily sighing and regaining eye contact.
Jimmy wasn’t totally sold on keeping eye contact normally, but this was Scott. Besides, they weren’t only staring into each other's souls! They were also looking at their arms and hands. Plus, paying attention to facial expressions was crucial to understanding sign language, for it conveyed tone and meaning to what was being said.
“I have a busy day tomorrow, though Fridays- wait, no,” Scott stopped signing briefly to change direction from just Friday to the entirety of the weekends, “but the weekends are often my hard days. Lots of people buy flowers for their dates.”
“I can help,” Jimmy offered, eager to spend time with Scott even if they weren’t directly communicating. Sometimes, Jimmy preferred it. Even signing could become exhausting and he would just need a break.
Existing in the same place with someone he cared for was enough for him. His therapist said that that sort of thing was called “parallel play”, and that it was a perfectly normal and healthy thing to engage in. They did note it was more common in neurodivergent people after toddlers leave that developmental stage, but they made sure Jimmy understood that it was okay to need and desire such a thing.
“You offer to help so much, you might as well work here.” Scott gave him an amused look, his smile prevalent enough to show off his dimples. “If you ever decide to quit your job, I can get you a job here.”
“I might have to take you up on that.” It would be a change, but, at this point, it might be a much needed change. He could work with flowers all day!
Jimmy took inventory of the nearby flowers, racking his brain for all their meanings. He settled on a yellow tulip, meaning happiness, cheerfulness, and hope. Scott made him feel all those things, so it fit, but there was another meaning to it as well. Jimmy knew that Scott would know it because Scott was the one who taught him it in the first place! People in the Victorian Era believed that yellow tulips literally meant “there's sunshine in your smile.” Jimmy wasn’t sure how sunshine could be in someone’s smile, but if anyone were to have sunshine in their smile, it would be Scott.
Scott accepted the yellow tulip with a hearty, yet still somehow airy and pitchy laugh. Jimmy wasn’t sure how others would read the laugh, but Jimmy thought it was the most beautiful laugh in the world. Without realizing it, Jimmy must have muttered it out loud, because Scott raised an eyebrow at him in question. Scott pointed a finger to his mouth before circling his lips and then signing, “Beautiful?” His lip reading skills have proven to be fairly accurate, though Scott hated having to rely on it.
Jimmy’s face flushed red when he realized what he had done, ducking his head, turning his face away, and growing stiff. Scott gave him a few minutes before becoming impatient. He gently grabbed Jimmy’s chin to guide Jimmy to look at him once more. Once Jimmy was facing him again, Scott let go of him and asked, “What’s wrong? Did I misunderstand? What did you say?”
Jimmy noticed that Scott had tucked the yellow tulip behind his ear, the yellow standing out against his cyan blue hair. It was like the sun shining on a cloudless day. Jimmy always liked sunny days. He always liked yellow, too. Yellow. His feather.
He grabbed the yellow silicon feather that hung from his neck and nibbled on the end of it, hoping it would help calm his racing heart. He could feel the pounding in his ears, and it didn’t help that he could hear children screeching and the sound of the cars driving on the road nearby. Jimmy started to chew harder on the feather, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment before opening them again. He clenched his fists against the rough fabric of his jeans (why did work make him wear jeans?), letting out a low groan. He just wished they would shut up.
Scott’s eyebrows were furrowed with concern, but he kept his hands off of Jimmy and stepped back to give space between them. Jimmy appreciated it, because even his clothes felt like too much. He wanted to rip off his clothes, he wanted to rip off his skin. Before he knew it, his palms were pressed against his ears and he croaked out, “Loud.”
Scott observed him for a moment to try and understand before his mouth shaped into an “o” of realization. He straightened his posture and turned away from Jimmy, looking around to see how he could help. Scott’s lips flattened into a line as they often did when he was annoyed, spotting some children unattended on the other side of the room.
The children were playing with toy cars, running the wheels against whatever surfaces they could find. Jimmy hadn’t noticed their presence in the room (he was almost positive they weren’t there when he first came in) after trying his hardest to dismiss any sensory input to avoid overstimulation. It had backfired on him, clearly.
Scott stomped over to them, gesturing furiously at them. It was clear they didn’t understand him so he just huffed and pointed to the giant sign on the wall. The metal sign read “QUIET ZONE - NO ROUGH HOUSING” in big, bolded letters. It was put in place, not only to protect the flowers, but to also provide Chromia Valley employees with a calm space where they could retreat when overwhelmed, allowing them to remain productive and have some time away.
Jimmy didn’t pay any attention after that, focusing on grounding himself. Scott sending the children back to their parents helped the noise, but oh did Jimmy wish he had his noise canceling headphones. Unfortunately, he would have to make due. Jimmy was grateful he had the yellow feather to chew on, at least, as well as a few fidgets in his trouser pockets.
When Jimmy came back from the overstimulation, he was sitting on the floor with Scott still there, patiently sitting next to him. He was creating a flower crown out of chamomile flowers and poppies, focused very intently on what he was doing. Scott didn’t seem to notice Jimmy had mostly recovered yet, but Jimmy didn’t make any moves in order to not interrupt him.
Jimmy simply watched Scott make the flower crowns, a content peace washing over him. When Scott finished the crown he had been carefully crafting, he looked up at Jimmy and grinned when their eyes met. Scott lifted the crown in Jimmy’s direction, but he didn’t place it on his head, assumingly asking if it was okay to give it to him. Jimmy nodded and Scott confirmed his suspicion, plopping the crown of flowers on top of Jimmy’s blonde hair.
The fact that Scott stayed with him was already enough to bring a smile to his face, but recalling the meaning of the chamomile flowers and the inclusion of the poppies only worked to further the warmth that built in his chest. Poppies meant remembrance, sacrifice, and hope for the future, so it wasn’t the most positive meaning, but it was a favorite of Jimmy’s for more personal reasons. Chamomile flowers, on the other hand, meant many different things. Among those meanings were words like recovery, resilience, adaptability, and healing– all relevant to the life he led, the lives that both of them led.
“Thank you.” Jimmy hoped his body language conveyed his gratefulness sufficiently enough, but he could never be sure. Body language was a tricky thing to understand in most cases, and it was definitely not one of Jimmy’s strong suits. The exaggerated emotions and movement typically used in the deaf community were easier to replicate and display than the more subtle ones Jimmy encountered in hearing, neurotypical groups, though. Jimmy adjusted the flower crown on his head, already making plans to press the flowers later to preserve them.
“You’re welcome!” Scott beamed, pleased that Jimmy liked his gift. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Jimmy was going to sign “me too” before realizing he wasn’t sure how exactly to sign that. Upon coming to that conclusion, he was met with another: the sign for “same” got the point across clearer and with fewer steps, so he did that. A comfortable… silence wasn’t the right word. Perhaps “peace” worked? A comfortable peace fell over them, leaving them in each other's company as Scott finished up his task from earlier.
With a brief glance at the time, Jimmy knew that Chromia Valley was closing soon. Before he ran out of time, he felt as if he needed to tell Scott what he had meant before he was tipped over the edge. Jimmy waved his hand up and down in the air to get Scott’s attention. When Scott gave it, Jimmy sucked in a breath. “Earlier, I said- no, uh, meant that you had a beautiful laugh. That is what you read on my lips: beautiful.”
Scott's lips parted slightly as his eyebrows raised together, his hand bouncing in a Y-shape to mean “Oh, I see.” It was something he picked up from one of his international deaf friends and frequently used to backchannel. It functioned just like “uh-huh”, “yeah” and “got it” might in verbal conversation.
Scott tilted his head in consideration before continuing, “I don’t know what laughter sounds like, but I like the way it feels in my chest. Do you like the way it feels?”
Jimmy’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he thought about Scott’s question. He hadn’t really considered the way a laugh could feel. “I don’t know. Probably?”
Scott uncrossed his legs to switch which leg was on top, the lower leg probably falling asleep and getting all tingly. Jimmy has always hated that sensation. “I wonder what someone’s laugh sounds like.”
Before Jimmy thought out what exactly it would entail, he offered, “Would you like to find out?”
A baffled, nonsensical noise escaped Scott’s lips. “How would you do that?”
Jimmy bit his inner lip, but did his best to brave it out. He didn’t sign a response, but he patted his chest to indicate what he meant by his words. Hearing was just picking up on sound waves and vibrations with one’s ear, was it not? Jimmy had no idea if that was correct; anatomy and human hearing were not things he ever looked into.
“Would you be okay with that?” Scott checked in to ensure that it wouldn’t be too much.
He only nodded, but Scott correctly took that as Jimmy giving him permission. Jimmy kept his gaze trained on Scott as he crawled towards Jimmy. Once he was close enough, Scott rested the side of his head against Jimmy’s chest so he could feel (or, otherwise, “hear” the best he was physically capable of) Jimmy’s laughter.
Jimmy tried to distract himself from his “gay panic” (as his sister called it when she teased him) by thinking of something he found amusing. If Scott wanted to hear laughter, dammit, Jimmy was going to provide him with laughter! He let himself be swept away with a pleasant past memory of him hanging out with his friends during a particularly silly night, producing a genuine string of giggles from Jimmy. He laughed hard enough that his chest ached and cheeks hurt from smiling.
Eventually, once Jimmy’s laughter died down, Scott lifted his head with a series of giggles himself. “Thank you. I really loved that.”
Before Jimmy could respond, a quick pattern of lights flashed, meant to alert Scott and anyone else not paying attention to the time that the shop was closing soon. There was also an automated spoken message along with it for the customers, but Scott couldn’t hear any bells or other verbal sounds, so the lights were used as a substitute.
Jimmy couldn’t help but be disappointed that the time had come so soon. He hadn’t thought it had been that long, but there were things he had to do back home that he had been putting off. Jimmy pushed himself up to reach his full height before offering his hand to Scott to help him up. Scott accepted his offer and Jimmy pulled him to his feet.
“Before you leave,” Scott started, making sure to snatch his attention before he turned to leave, “would you like to go out sometime outside of work? Maybe on a date? We could walk a scenic path in the park and have a picnic.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened as a blush pinkened his cheeks. He resisted the urge to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Jimmy nodded enthusiastically, going to stay more when his attention was drawn away from the door opened. Scott followed his gaze to spot Cleo at the door, the same redheaded employee from before.
“Hey!” Cleo waved their hand to get Scott’s attention, only dropping it when they were sure they had it. “Didn’t you see the lights? You’re needed up front now if we want any chance of going home on time. I don’t know about you, but I would like not to make my shift longer if I don’t need to.”
“One minute,” Scott promised before pushing his hands together in a plea.
Cleo rolled her eyes, though there was a slight smirk on their lips. Even Jimmy could tell they weren’t annoyed with Scott… well, he was pretty sure of that fact, anyway, but his accuracy rate in that field wasn’t the greatest. “Fine, one minute. Hurry up!”
“I have your number. I’ll text you, okay?” Scott waited for confirmation that he understood and, when Jimmy gave it, Scott grinned with a slight bounce of his heels. He didn’t sign anything else, simply leaning forward to leave a light peak on Jimmy’s cheek before waving goodbye and darting to the front.
Scott’s kiss left Jimmy stunned frozen, aside from the hand that traveled up to his cheek. He leaned into his own touch, butterflies fluttering happily within him. His other hand started to shake as he tried to contain his happy, stimmy energy. He was in public after all. It didn’t work, as he was soon shaking and literally jumping with joy. Jimmy was simply too excited to contain it all! Maybe his day wasn’t all that bad after all.