Work Text:
The doorbell rang while you were in the shower. You were just going to ignore it, but then it rang again. And again. Clearly, they weren’t gonna give up. You quickly rinsed out the shampoo and jumped out of the shower.
"Coming!" you yelled as you threw on a towel, then sprinted to the door.
You didn’t know what you’d expected. A postman, perhaps, who wanted you to accept a parcel for a neighbor. Maybe a salesperson of some kind. Definitely not this.
A solid wall of fragrant red. Red roses, hundreds of them, taking up the entire space of your doorframe. You stared at the sight, completely and utterly confused.
"Flower delivery!" said the wall of red in a deep, rich voice. Then it moved towards you, the sweet scent enveloping your befuddled senses. "What the—"
"I know, it’s quite big. Would you prefer me to put it somewhere for you?"
A head poked out from behind the roses, and you realized that there was, in fact, a person behind the humongous bouquet of roses thrust out toward you. Quite a good-looking one at that, with warm, golden-brown eyes that were currently fixed at you with a questioning look.
"Um," you said. "Sure. That would be great."
You stepped aside to make room, and watched in baffled silence as the man carried the rosy monstrosity inside, only then realizing the true scale of the thing. Which didn’t help one bit with your confusion.
"Is that table okay?" the man asked.
"What? Oh. Yeah. Just put it wherever."
"Got it," he said, setting the bouquet down with a low grunt. Without the bouquet covering him, you could see that he didn’t just have a handsome face, his frame was attractive too — broad-shouldered and tall. And here you were with your wet, unkempt hair, probably looking like a drowned rat in a towel. This was just your luck. Thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned your rather unconventional outfit. You weren’t sure he’d even noticed it, as he hadn’t looked up once, still busy arranging the bouquet on the table.
"500 red roses," the man said with a grin.
"That’s our most expensive order today. And it’s Valentine’s Day, so we get a lot. Someone must love you very much." He finally looked up at you then, his eyes dropping to your towel for a split second before flicking away again, suddenly very preoccupied with picking up the rose petals which had scattered on the table. Great. So much for making a good first impression. You shook your head, trying to cure yourself from the case of hot-guy-itis which had clearly befallen you and threatened to cloud your rational judgment.
Right. Time to look at the facts. It was Valentine’s Day. Hence the flowers. But it still didn’t explain where this abomination was coming from. Or rather, from whom.
"Does it say anywhere who sent it?" you asked.
The man straightened up from where he had crouched on the floor to pick up some more rose petals. He still avoided looking at you.
"I’m not sure. Think I saw a card in there somewhere. Probably says on there." The man scratched his head. "Maybe you have a secret admirer. Or something."
"Maybe," you said, voice filled with doubt.
His eyes darted to your face, and he cleared his throat as if he wanted to say something, but then didn’t, swallowing thickly instead. You could see his Adam‘s apple move in his throat, your eyes suddenly drawn to the neckline of his green uniform shirt. The first button was undone. You couldn’t stop staring. The hollow of his neck, the surrounding muscles working as he looked down to took out his phone…
"Oh. I almost forgot. Still need a signature for the delivery." Your gaze snapped back up at his words, and you could feel your face flush with heat, like you‘d just been caught doing something forbidden.
He took a step closer, then stopped, awkwardly extending the phone to you from a distance. You took it and quickly scribbled your signature with your finger. God, this was embarrassing.
"Thanks," he said, taking the phone back. When he looked back at the screen, his eyes widened.
"Shit, I’m late for the next delivery. I should go. Sorry about the mess." He sheepishly gestured at the rose petals still scattered on the apartment floor.
"Oh, that’s okay. I’ll clean it up later. After I finish my shower." You smiled, still embarrassed.
"Yeah. Have fun," he muttered, his voice a little hoarse, before practically bolting out of the apartment.
You blew out a breath you hadn’t realized you'd been holding.
"What the hell," you murmured, pressing a hand to your heart. It was beating fast against your fingertips, skipping like a broken record. What were you, a teenager? It had been a while since you’d had such a strong, visceral reaction to a guy. And, of course, the one time you did, you were half naked, and he was delivering you flowers from another guy. Great, just great. And you still had no idea who they could be from.
"Please, anyone but Floch," you mumbled, shuddering at the thought of your pushy coworker.
He’d asked you out as many times as you’d turned him down, but for some reason, he still didn’t get the message, forcing you to repeat it time and time again — a Sisyphean task with no end in sight.
You made your way over to the bouquet to check for the card, finding it hidden at the bottom of the arrangement, tied to the binding paper with a silky red ribbon.
It was made from thick, marbled paper, and the front simply read: you are my sun — beautiful and bright. I revolve around you.
You snorted. So corny.
But as you flipped it over to read the rest, your grin faded, giving way to a frown.
Dear Annie,
Please accept this bouquet as a symbol of my love for you — 512 roses, one for each wonderful day we’ve been together.
Each petal represents a moment of joy, love and tenderness you’ve brought into my life.
Someday, I hope, these precious moments will add up to be so many, these days with you become so countless that it’ll be impossible to represent them with roses or gestures or anything else. Even words might not be enough then. But I’ll never stop trying.
Forever yours (if you’ll have me),
Armin
This bouquet wasn’t for you at all.
You stared in horror at the moments of joy, love and tenderness scattered all over your floor, when it should have been Annie’s. Whoever this Annie was, she likely wouldn’t be happy to know that this heartfelt message had been passed on to somebody else. And Armin, well… You could just tell that he would be completely and utterly devastated by this turn of events. Clearly, he had put a lot of thought into this. And money. If you didn’t do something about this, his hopelessly enamored heart would probably break into tiny little pieces — 512 pieces to be exact, one for every rose paid for but not delivered.
You cursed under your breath, pulled your towel tight, and dashed out onto the street, frantically checking left and right for any signs of the flower delivery guy. But he was nowhere to be seen. No vans, either. You went so far as to check the parked cars at the side of the road, a final act of desperation. But to no avail. He was already gone.
"Shit," you muttered. An old lady walking her dog wrinkled her nose at you. She pulled at the poodle’s leash, making it clear that she deemed you bad company for the dog who had happily run up to you, oblivious to her judgment. You crouched down to pet him out of spite.
What now? As you got up and walked back to your apartment, you contemplated your options. You could call the flower shop and tell them it had been delivered to the wrong address. Only, that might get the cute delivery guy into a lot of trouble. After all, it was the most expensive order of the day, as he'd told you himself, though you didn't know exactly how much that amounted to.
A quick Google search make you gasp. 500 red roses – that was over 2000 bucks. He would lose his job, for sure.
But if you didn't call them, an inconsolable Armin certainly would. Either way, Cute Delivery Guy would be screwed. You couldn't let that happen. You'd just have to lie and make up some excuse.
As you dialed the number of Liberio flower shop, the name of which had been tastefully emblazoned on the card, your phone almost slipped out of your sweaty palms. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should stay out of this and leave this up to fate. It had nothing to do with you after all – so what if Armin's and Annie's Valentine's Day was about to be ruined, derailing Armin from his joyous orbit around his bright sun and potentially ending their 512 days of blissful unity. So what if Cute Delivery Guy lost his job, turning him simply into a Cute Guy. He might not be able to pay his bills anymore, but at least he wouldn't have to wear that awful green uniform shirt. (Though on him, it had looked awfully good. Illegally so.)
Who were you to go up against fate? But before you could get yourself into a philosophical debate about determinism and the existence of free will, a woman's voice spoke on the other side of the line.
"This is Liberio flower shop, Pieck Finger speaking. How can I help you?"
You froze, your mouth completely dry.
"Hello?" Pieck repeated.
"Hello. I'm, um... Annie. And I have a question. A bouquet of roses has just been delivered to me, and I was wondering…" You swallowed. "I was wondering whether there was a way of contacting the deliveryman?"
There was a pause on the other side of the line. "May I ask why you'd like to contact the delivery driver? Was there a problem with the order?"
"No!" you exclaimed, your voice high. You cleared your throat. "I mean… No. Everything was fine with the order. More than fine actually. It was perfect. It's just…" You tapped your chin, trying to think of an excuse. You should've thought this through beforehand.
There was a sigh on the other end. "If you're trying to get Reiner's number, I'll have to disappoint you. We don't divulge the personal information of our employ–"
"That's not what this is!" you interrupted, mortified. "It's just that he forgot something here. If you could get in touch with him, he could stop by and get it. While he's still in the area, you know? " You held your breath as you waited for an answer.
Another sigh. "Now that, I can believe. If his head weren't screwed on... Well. You get the idea. Was it his cap again?"
"His cap? Yes. The cap. He left it here." You weren't even sure he'd been wearing a cap at all, but you were grateful for the suggestion.
"A true classic. I always tell him to just keep it on, but he insists it's rude to wear hats inside." You could almost hear the eye-roll. "Anyway, I'll give him a call. He should be there soon to pick it up. I'm sorry for all the trouble."
"It's nothing. Thank you!"
You hung up quickly and tossed your phone onto the table, a huge grin spreading over your face. Fate had been fought successfully. Jobs would be kept and orbits would be maintained. You'd even found out Cute Delivery Guy's name. Reiner. Reiner, who was well-meaning but scatterbrained, forgetting caps and wrongly delivering orders. Reiner, who was probably the cutest flower delivery guy to have ever graced this earth. Giggling, you broke into a little victory dance. Your towel fell to the floor with a soft thud. Oops. Better finish that shower before he came back.
– –
When the doorbell rang this time, you were prepared. For one, you were actually sporting more than just a towel, having opted for a cute outfit that suited you well without seeming too dressed up. You'd also dried your hair and put on some light makeup, keeping it casual. No need for coming on too strong. After that rather dismal first impression, you were determined to at least make the second one good.
You got the door with a smile. And there he was – still cute, even in that grass-green uniform, the shirt hugging his chest in a way that brought out his toned form underneath. You forced your eyes upwards to his face again, where you were met by his golden-warm gaze.
"Hi," you greeted him, already feeling your heartbeat speed up.
"Hi," he said, a little hesitant. "The flower shop gave me a call. Said something about me forgetting something here?" He twisted something in his hands, something green. A cap.
"Yeah… about that." You rubbed your temple. "Sorry about the confusion. You didn't actually leave anything here. I just needed a pretense to get you back here."
"To get me back here?" Reiner raised an eyebrow at you.
You flushed a bit. Could have phrased that differently. "Um, yeah. I didn't want you to get into trouble but… you got the order wrong. That bouquet isn't for me."
His eyes widened. "Shit. Are you sure?"
"Yep. That card was by a certain Armin, thanking me for our 512 wonderful days days together. Think I would've noticed if I had a boyfriend, let alone for that long."
"Oh." Reiner huffed out a laugh. "Guess I got the address wrong. Let me check."
He took out his phone, eyebrows drawn together in confusion as he looked at the screen.
"Shit. You're right. Mix-up with the numbers." He scrubbed a hand up through the back of his hair, shooting you a sheepish grin.
"Man, I'm such an idiot. Thanks for covering for me, you really saved my ass here. And sorry for the trouble."
"It's fine. Besides, I couldn't let Armin's efforts be in vain. His beloved Annie deserves to witness this grand gesture of romantic sentiment while the roses are still red on this fine Valentine's Day." You gave him a wink.
His grin widened. "Quite the lovebirds, huh. I see you've already grown attached to them."
"Yeah. It's strange, but after reading Armin's heartfelt message to his sweetheart, I couldn't help but become invested. The flowers may be a bit over the top, but the sentiment behind it feels genuine. It was kind of adorable, actually." You smiled at the memory of the cheesy card.
"And I almost ruined it for them," he groaned. "Maybe I should start working as a reverse Cupid. Reiner Braun – destroyer of love and happiness."
You stifled a laugh. "I wouldn't go quite so far. You're here, aren't you? Just in time to save the day."
Reiner nodded. "Yeah, and I should probably get to it. Better late than never, right?" He took a step forward, then hesitated.
You motioned for him to enter. "Come in. I'm y/n, by the way."
"Thanks. I'm Reiner." He brushed past you through the narrow doorway, his arm touching yours for just a split second, but the warmth of it was enough to make your heart flutter. You really were down bad for him.
"I know," you said, trying to shrug off the butterflies swishing around in your stomach. "Already heard of you. Reiner Braun – almost-destroyer of love and forgetter of caps. Quite the reputation you've got there."
He chuckled – a low, rumbly sound at the back of his throat. "You don't have to rub it in, you know."
You pursed your lips. "But it's so much fun."
"Glad to know at least someone's having fun today." But his eyes betrayed his words, shining with amusement.
He walked over to the table where the rosy display of affection was already waiting for him, the card neatly tucked away again at the bottom. You'd tried to move it back to the door earlier, but the thing had hardly budged at all.
Reiner, on the other hand, lifted it effortlessly, the biceps of his arms flexing noticeably underneath his shirt as he carried the massive bouquet towards the door. You swallowed, finding it hard not to stare.
He stopped in the doorway, his face hidden behind the roses. But you could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Thanks again. I owe you."
Then he was gone.
You looked after him, a little wistful. Should've asked for his number. But as you made to close the door, something green caught your eye – a cap, hanging from the door handle. You smiled. It was the same color as his uniform, with Liberio flower shop embroidered in yellow thread on the front.
Had he left it on purpose? You shook your head, trying to shake off your delusions. He'd probably put it there earlier, when he needed his hands to check the address on his phone, and promptly forgot all about it. Oh well. You didn't mind, if it meant you'd see him again.
– –
The doorbell rang while you were taking a nap on the couch, ripping you from your peaceful slumber. For a moment, you were thoroughly disoriented. You squinted at your phone, trying to find the button to turn off the nonexistent alarm.
Then the doorbell rang again. With a raspy groan, you rolled off the couch and stumbled over to the door.
"Flower delivery!" a familiar voice called out as you opened the door.
You blinked at the man in front of you, eyes still blurry with sleep. "Reiner?"
Your eyes fell to the flowers in his hands, a jumble of pink, white and yellow,
extended toward you with a lopsided grin.
"Very funny. You're probably here for your cap?" It had been almost a week since Valentine's Day, and you'd begun to think he'd never show up to collect it.
"My cap?" Reiner asked, a little perplexed. "Oh yeah. That, too, I guess. But it's not really why I came." He glanced down at the flowers still held out to you. "Actually…" He trailed off. "These are for you. To say thanks, and also sorry for the trouble. And for giving you flowers only to take them away again. That was pretty crummy of me, actually."
He shifted his weight, still not looking at you. Your heart melted.
"Oh, that's so thoughtful of you! They're so pretty, thank you!"
You gently took the bouquet from his fingers, holding them up to your nose to take in the smell. "Mm-hmm, they smell heavenly."
"I'm glad you like them," Reiner said, his face breaking into a wide grin. "To be honest, I kinda arranged them myself. Though I'm no florist or anything. But I asked which flowers meant what, and kinda went from there."
"Really?" you asked, taking in the eclectic selection of flowers in the bouquet. It looked a bit chaotic, but the fact he had arranged them himself made it so cute you could explode. "What do they mean?"
"Yellow tulips signify gratitude. Just like the peach roses." He pointed at the lighter shade of the two kinds of roses in the bouquet. "The pink carnations are for apologies. The white tulips too, and apparently they also symbolize new starts. Thought that was fitting. And the pink roses symbolize…" He cleared his throat. "Do you maybe wanna get coffee sometime?"
You bit back a smile. "That's… oddly specific. I had no idea pink roses could mean that. But I'd love to."
"Great, I know a good place." Reiner grinned. "And they definitely mean that. You should take my word for it. I'm fluent in flower language, you know?"
"Sure you are," you said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It's true."
You raised an eyebrow. "Really. Tell me, then – what's the appropriate flower for when you want someone to remember to take their cap with them this time?"
Reiner smirked, eyes gleaming with a smug confidence. "Easy. Forget-me-nots."
You broke into laughter. "Oh, that's actually perfect. That should be your flower. I'll give you some next time, as a memory booster."
He shook his head, clicking his tongue in mock offense. "Now that's just rude. I'll have you know that I actually have a good memory. I'm just sometimes a bit… distracted."
"Distracted, huh? If that's what you want to call it."
But as you looked up at him, your teasing grin faded into a genuine smile. However much you might poke fun at him about it, you were secretly grateful that he was like that. After all, it had brought him to your doorstep. Now you just needed to invite him in.