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The postman stares at the small yellow flower. It is rare, so rare for him to receive any type of present, that he doesn't realize the situation he is in at first.
Aesop clears his throat, still holding the simple yellow flower, hoping Victor isn't dense enough for them to continue like this for much longer.
After tilting his head like a confused puppy (cute, so cute, only Victor could turn even movements this small and insignificant this adorable), his expression becomes of surprise, a small ‘oh!’ leaving his alluring pink lips.
Without showing signs of it, Aesop internally smiles. What a precious sight before him, a sweet face like a doll's, now blushing red. Victor looks both overjoyed and nervous to the point he might pass out. But nevourness, uncertainty, anxiety, those emotions look wonderful on such a cute man.
“For me…?” Victor asks in a shy voice, barely louder than a whisper. It's perfect, his quietness is one of the things Aesop appreciates most about him. Loud humans are obnoxious, a headache, stupid. They make him uncomfortable. But Victor never speaks more than necessary, never louder than necessary. It's graceful. It's proof the two of them are different.
Aesop nods in response. The tiny present he offers is but a regular flower he picked from the ground, nothing grand, nothing Victor couldn't find on his own. But it is pretty. And when Aesop sees something pretty, he immediately thinks of the prettiest face he has ever seen.
Victor brightens, despite the clear embarrassment still in his expression. He takes the flower from Aesop, allowing their fingers to brush for a few seconds more than it was required. “Thank you.” He says, eyes shifting away from him, unable to maintain contact. He glares at the plant instead, excited but containing it behind only a small smile.
“You like it?” Aesop asks. His facemask partially hides the heat on his own face, only becoming stronger after he dares directly ask such a silly question.
Victor nods. He plays with it in this hands. “It's cute.”
Not as cute as you. Aesop thinks.
Victor carefully places it on his own scarf, securing it in place so it won't fall, but with extreme gentleness, as to not ruin the petals of this dear gift.
Aesop gasps, watching Victor making his insignificant gift into part of his outfit, now showing it to everyone that looks his way. Well, Aesop would rather no one ever looks Victor's way, becoming an existence for Aesop’s eyes only. Still, wearing the flower is romantic beyond his expectations.
Victor asks with his eyes if it looks good, Aesop gives an approving nod, while using his hand to cover his unbearable blushing. It might be an accessory to be easily taken off at any moment, but in Aesop’s mind, it is as if Victor was marking himself as his. Not that anyone would know the origins of this flower, but it matters not. It's fitting for them, to have a secret like this.
Unable to resist any longer, Aesop wraps an arm around Victor, receiving absolutely no resistance, pulling him closer. Funnily enough, both of them are uncomfortable for a moment, having experienced little human warmth in their lives. But once used to it, Victor's eyes are no longer widdened, and he shyly but sweetly leans his head onto Aesop’s chest.
Aesop’s heart pounds like it rarely does, only Victor able to make him lose his composure. As much as he usually dislike exposing his face, he takes off the facemask with a slightly trembling hand. It's fine, if it's only around Victor. Everything is fine, as long as it is just the two of them. He holds Victor in place, kissing the top of his head.
And he is rewarded with a gentle, happy giggle, coming from the most precious man he has ever known.