Work Text:
Sighing, Jongin sweeps stray bits of flower stem, bruised petals and crushed leaves into the dustpan. It’s Baekhyun’s job to take care of clean-up but he’d run out the door twenty minutes before closing time, spouting melodramatic apologies and promises. I’ll make it up to you, Jonginnie, I swear, he’d yelled just before the door swung shut behind him. Jongin sighs again as he tips the debris into the bin. Sometimes, employees who also happen to be first cousins are really more trouble than they’re worth.
He checks his watch. Five more minutes before he can lock up and go home. Roomy, black buckets of water sit in the store window filled with tall stalks of peonies, tulips, and roses. Jongin stands in front of the display, shuts his eyes and inhales the light perfume. He works with flowers every day but it's not often he takes the time to breathe in their intermingled scents. It's nice when it happens.
Outside the shop, the pre-sunset sky is streaked through with inviting coral pink, misty lilac and faded blue. He always looks forward to the fifteen-minute walk back to his apartment when there’s this kind of pastel backdrop to enjoy.
Jongin enjoys quiet moments like these when the store is empty, not a single soul here aside from himself. When Baekhyun is around, he likes to maintain a near constant stream of conversation or sing and hum his favorite songs. Thus, there’s often some form of noise in the background when he's around. But Jongin likes the silence too and it’s nice sometimes when there’s nothing but him and the flowers.
It's so nice and tranquil and—
BANG!
Jongin flinches as the loud noise reverberates through the shop. The door’s been shoved wide open and agitated footsteps are storming closer to the cashier counter. Of course Jongin would get a problem customer just minutes before closing time. And of course there's no Baekhyun to run interference for him. Baek is much better at handling difficult customers and this definitely sounds like a difficult customer. Muscles drawn tight, Jongin forces his face into a neutral expression before turning around to face the customer.
“Can I help y—” Jongin begins to ask.
The customer slams something on the counter. It’s made of paper, whatever it is, and looks suspiciously like a fifty-dollar bill. Scowling, the man asks, “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”
Jongin's too stunned to say anything more eloquent than, “I beg your pardon?”
Mr. Fuck You isn't very tall, maybe three, maybe four inches shorter than Jongin. His face is dominated by ferocious eyebrows and a livid expression. Jongin knows the expression can’t be realistically aimed at him but he can’t help feeling just a little bit intimidated anyway.
“Fuck you,” the man repeats. His voice is terse and impatient and Jongin almost feels sorry for the poor sod who's pissed him off so badly they’re about to receive a very angry gift.
“Well. . .”Jongin tries stalling for time as he runs through his mental index of flowers and their symbolic meanings. He's spent years building up his database and he normally has the information at his fingertips—giving the customer his answer in no more than five seconds. But he needs longer than that today because the man’s request is so damned irregular. Expressions of love or admiration are what Jongin's used to, not anger and loathing.
“It would be good if you could tell me your answer sometime before Christmas.” The man’s words are dripping with sarcasm, but Jongin ignores them as he mentally sorts out the combination of blooms he needs. Jongin is pretty laid back about most things, but when it comes to floral design, his focus is intense and he won't tolerate being rushed. Not by anyone.
“Shhh. . .just let me think.” Jongin says it quietly and he half expects the customer to protest, but to his infinite relief, there's no agitated torrent of words forthcoming, and he continues composing the floral arrangement in his mind. Finally, after another fifteen seconds of deliberation, Jongin is satisfied. “Okay, I have it.”
“It has to be a really clear statement of loathing. I don't want there to be any confusion that I'm saying anything other than fuck you.”
“I gathered that,” Jongin says, willing his eyeballs not to roll. “Don't worry, sir. I've got you covered. Right. So here's my recommendation. What you need is geraniums for stupidity, foxglove for insincerity, and meadowsweet for uselessness. And if you want to add some extra emphasis, we can include yellow carnations, which mean you have disappointed me, and orange lilies which mean I hate you. The flowers will look quite striking together, while at the same time broadcasting an intense miasma of loathing.”
“That's. . .that’s really impressive.” The customer’s eyebrows look a little less agitated now, and he's looking at Jongin with a mixture of curiosity and grudging respect.
“I'm dedicated to my profession,” Jongin shrugs matter-of-factly.
“So can you do it? The fuck you flower arrangement?”
“Well, that depends. Closing time is in—” Jongin consults his watch, “approximately three and a half minutes. And I'm not gonna lie, meadowsweet are near impossible to find and I don't have any foxgloves and geraniums in the store right now. How soon do you need to throw the flowers in this person’s face?”
The man gives a short, surprised laugh at his question and his eyebrows relax for the first time since he's entered the shop. He looks quite attractive when his face isn't etched into a murderous scowl.
“Sometime in the next three minutes would be perfect. But frankly, I couldn't be bothered driving through rush hour traffic to get to that asshole’s apartment, just so I can have the pleasure of knocking on his door and throwing the flowers in his face.”
“So tomorrow would be agreeable?” Jongin asks in his most congenial tone of voice.
“I can wait till tomorrow,” the man sighs deeply.
“Would you like to select a vase?” Jongin indicates a laminated menu on the counter.
The man made a frustrated noise. “God, I don’t care. Just pick the ugliest one you have.” Jongin’s first instinct is to protest that they don’t sell ugly things in their store but he reins in his tongue. He knows the argument will fall on deaf ears, anyway.
“Will you be collecting the arrangement or would you like us to deliver it?”
“I’ll collect it. My office building is just across the road from here.”
Jongin nods and makes a note in the order book before looking up at the man. “We open at 9 am but I’ll probably need at least twenty minutes to make up the floral arrangement. Is 9.30 okay?”
“9.30 is fine.”
For the first time in his life, Jongin hesitates over something which should have been the most common of routine procedures in the florist trade. He hesitates, but eventually, he asks, “About the um. . .message? Will there be a written one or will it just be the flowers and no card?”
The man frowns like his synapses are igniting little pockets of fire in his brain. Then he directs a hard, unyielding gaze at Jongin before saying in acid tones, “To Julian, Congratulations on being awarded that account after passing my proposal off as your own. Sincerely, DK."
It's suddenly very clear to Jongin why the man has been seething since he entered the shop. A tiny pang of sympathy pokes at Jongin's marshmallow heart. There's nothing he hates more than stealing and he resolves to slip in a few extra stalks of orange, I-hate-you lilies—at no charge.
"Right. So you'll take the mixed arrangement. To be collected, not delivered. Would you like the that in small, medium or large?"
"I'll take the XXL if you have it. The more flowers to throw at his smug face, the better. To be very fucking honest."
"Um, we don't do XXL. So large then?"
At the man's curt nod, Jongin writes down the last few details on the order form before asking who the bill should be made out to, and could he have a contact number to put down.
"Do Kyungsoo. My number is 860-518-2284."
"Right. I'll have it ready for collection by 9.30 am tomorrow."
"I'll definitely be here," he confirms, cold determination in his voice. "And thank you."
"For—?"
"For not throwing me out when I made that bizarre request." To be honest, Do Kyungsoo doesn't look embarrassed or thankful by any stretch of the imagination. But Jongin suspects that the act of saying thank you isn't something that comes easily to the man. He appreciates the effort so he responds with a sincere no problem.
In a very formal tone, Do Kyungsoo inclines his head. "Tomorrow then."
"Tomorrow," Jongin nods, a pleasant smile tacked onto his face.
As the door swings shut behind his customer, Jongin lets out a shaky breath. Feeling very much like he’s just been knocked over by a particularly violent wave of seawater, Jongin sinks onto the stool behind the cashier counter.
Sweet Jesus. He never ever wants to be on Do Kyungsoo's shit list.
❀ ❀ ❀
“Jongin. Dude. That—” Baekhyun gestures apprehensively at the loud yellows and oranges nestling uncomfortably with lurid pinks and violent purples in the plain, square-bottomed glass vase. “That is some special kinda hot mess? It’s like were you on a mission to make this the ugliest thing to ever leave the doors of Bloomtastic? Everything clashes, Jongin. Like really, really bad. Jesus. Can't you make it look a little less, well, heinous?! I'd just as soon not get my head chewed off by the customer when they come to pick up this disaster.”
"That's kind of the whole point," Jongin says, deadpan. The look his cousin gives him is pure what-the-fuck.
Baekhyun's left eyebrow arches and he scratches the back of his neck. "Did I miss a memo somewhere? I thought the point of this industry is to make everything beautiful? Rainbows and unicorns? Starlight and moonbeams and all that shit?"
"Well, yeah. But this customer is a little different from your average customer. This arrangement is for someone who screwed him over so he wants this arrangement to shout a very definitive fuck you at the recipient. The fact that all the right flowers look so wrong next to each other is just a happy bonus.”
"Are you shitting me?" Baekhyun’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Nope,” Jongin says, eyes focused on the flowers Do Kyungsoo had commissioned. Teeth worrying his bottom lip in concentration, Jongin shifts a few stems around. Then he gives the arrangement an appraising stare before deciding it's about as hideous as he can make it without compromising his professional standards irretrievably.
"But this is on a whole other level of catastrophic and people are going to think we are the worst fucking florist in town. This could be bad for business, Jongin." Baekhyun is shaking his head in disbelief.
“The customer is always right," Jongin chuckles. "Look, he even wanted the vase to be ugly.”
Baekhyun points an accusing finger at Jongin. “Now, I know you’re pranking me for real.”
"I'm fucking not. Anyway, he's coming in at 9.30 to collect this. You'll see for yourself."
"Just exactly what happened after I left yesterday?"
"This guy came in a few minutes before closing time and said he wanted to say fuck you in flower. Basically."
"Why doesn't anything exciting ever happen when I stay till closing time? This is just unfair," Baekhyun whines.
"Well. If you hadn't skipped out early?" Jongin doesn't even bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Not that it makes any impression on Baekhyun who is incredibly impervious to all forms of insinuation. It's an admirable skill—one that Jongin wishes he had.
"He sounds kinda hot. Assertiveness is such a turn-on. Pair that with a touch of viciousness and goddamn, I WANT. Is he hot, Jonginnie? I just know he is. Tell me he is."
"He's um—" And Jongin pauses because much as he doesn't want to admit it it to himself, he does find Do Kyungsoo attractive and maybe even a little "hot".
"Your refusal to answer is confirmation enough.”
"He's attractive, I guess. Vaguely. Maybe." It's a blatant lie but Baekhyun doesn't need any encouragement (or ammunition as the case may be).
“Hah! I knew he’d be hot!” Baekhyun whoops in triumph.
Jongin knows the truth about Baekhyun and his so-called “thirst” for hot guys, though. His cousin can say however much he wants about finding this and that guy hot but his crush on Bloomtastic’s delivery guy, slash, driver is entering its eighteenth month. He had admitted it to Jongin a year ago at a family barbecue. In a fit of recklessness, Baekhyun had challenged Fifth Uncle to a game of beer pong. It had gone as well as could be expected, which was to say not well at all.
Halmoni had boxed their ears once she realized what had transpired in her backyard. But it was too late. Far too late. Fifth Uncle was all red and shouty and acting more like a hormonal 19 year-old than the responsible 35 year-old male he was supposed to be.
Meanwhile, Baekhyun was sitting, ass on the grass, spilling secrets like an overflowing fountain, despite Jongin’s futile attempts to shut him up. During his ten-minute, beer-fuelled TMI marathon, Baekhyun had confessed to all manner of things. But only one confession had made an impression on Jongin: the one where Baekhyun admitted that he was nursing “a pathetic crush” on his co-worker.
Based on their lunchtime conversation yesterday, it’s a crush that is still very much alive. Jongin can't quite understand the pining and the hesitation; it's so unlike Baekhyun to be this way. He's so brash and confident, always throwing himself headlong at things he wants and taking them. So why doesn't he just tell the guy that he likes him? The only reason he can think of is that Baekhyun's pride won't let him.
"Boss, you got anything for me?" Someone asks from the open doorway. His deep, husky voice is calm and quiet. Like it’s full of secrets. Jongin's always liked the way it sounds. Across the table from him, Baekhyun stiffens.
"Morning, Sehun," Jongin greets and Sehun greets them in return. Baekhyun grumbles something and Sehun gives him an odd look. “Can you put those small bouquets in the chiller? They’re due downtown at 10 am. And there’s a couple of arrangements that need to be delivered to the Hyatt at 11 am. Those are already in the chiller.”
“What about that one?” Sehun points at Do Kyungsoo’s flowers, his sleepy eyes widening in mild shock.
“The customer’s picking this one up himself.”
“Oh, good. I mean, I’m sure you had your reasons for picking these flowers but,” Sehun shuffles his feet a little awkwardly, “I mean, no offence but this combo looks kinda bad, Boss. If I had to deliver it, I think I’d get screwed by whoever signed for the flowers.”
“I told you it looked like garbage,” Baekhyun pipes up.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, you asshats!” Jongin mock glares at them both but he knows they’re just being honest. The flowers have to look truly repulsive for Sehun to say something about it. The boy avoids expressing his opinion about anything except when he’s forced to. The fact that he had just volunteered one is a sign that Jongin has done his job well. Something tells him that Do Kyungsoo will be ecstatic when he sees the arrangement, well, as much as it is possible for someone like Do Kyungsoo to feel ecstatic about anything.
“I’m sorry, Boss. But yeah, okay. I’ll um. . .yeah. I'll just put these in the chiller,” Sehun says, looking all kinds of awkward as he reaches for the bouquets on the far end of the table. Jongin doesn’t miss the way Baekhyun’s eyes follow his movements. Then, just as quietly as he’d arrived, long, lanky Oh Sehun walks out the door of Jongin’s workroom.
Three seconds later, Baekhyun’s forehead makes a dejected and none-too-soft landing on the marble surface of Jongin’s work table. Thunk.
“Just ask him out.” Jongin pokes him in the shoulder.
“He’ll probably give me a look of horror and bolt,” Baekhyun groans, his voice muffled by the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
“I doubt that. He might stare at his feet and shuffle backwards out of the room but he won’t bolt.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better? It’s not working. So. Just. Shut. Up.”
Before Jongin can reply, a confused-looking Sehun pops his head in the doorway. “There’s a man here looking for his fuck-you flowers,” he says in a half-whisper.
“Oh,” Jongin says, standing up, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor, loud and strident.
Watching his employer curiously, Sehun says, “I’m guessing he’s referring to that hot mess you’ve been working on?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want me to take it outside for you?” Sehun offers and Jongin shouts a frantic no before he can stop himself. Baekhyun straightens, like a shark that’s scented blood in the water.
“Let me deal with this customer,” Baekhyun volunteers, mischief written all over his face.
“No.”
“But you always make me deal with the difficult customers and someone who orders fuck-you flowers has got to fall under that category. Oh Sehun, is he hot? Mr. Fuck-you, is he hot?”
Sehun shrugs. “Not my type.”
“What is your type?” Baekhyun asks, left eyebrow raised.
“Buy me dinner after work and I’ll tell you,” Sehun retorts and it sounds very much like a challenge.
“Wh—?” Baekhyun splutters and Jongin decides he’s heard enough. He picks up the arrangement, cradling it in his arms and heads for the door. Once he’s there, he shoves Sehun into the workroom, says good luck to them and shuts the door.
He wonders if they’ll kiss. He hopes they will. Then maybe Baekhyun will finally stop whining about unrequited love 24/7. That would be nice. That would be hella nice. He really, really needs them to just kiss, for fuck’s sake.
❀ ❀ ❀
“Mr. Do,” Jongin gives the man a polite smile as he places the arrangement carefully on the narrow surface of the cashier counter. Do Kyungsoo is wearing a dark business suit and a solid, maroon tie. He looks elegant and commanding and well. . .kind of hot (not that Jongin will be admitting that to Byun Baekhyun any time soon).
“Damn,” is all the man says. His eyebrows are different today, dominant rather than angry.
“You don’t approve?”
“Are you joking? It’s spectacular in its hideousness.” A slow smile is creeping over Do Kyungsoo’s features. It doesn’t transform his features or light them up or anything extreme like that, but it does soften his edges some.
“Thank you. I think.”
“I meant it as a compliment,” Do Kyungsoo assures him. He’s only got this half smile on his face, but Jongin’s heart is doing this weird, wheezing thing. He doesn’t even dare think about what an honest-to-goodness, full strength Do Kyungsoo smile would do to him.
“I took the liberty of leaving out the water. You know, so you don’t get into too much trouble with the office cleaners? It would make one hell of a mess. But I can totally add some water for you now if you want more dramatic impact.”
“That’s all right. I don’t really want to pay for that asshole’s dry cleaning. I’m sure he’ll do his utmost to saddle me with the bill. Worth it though, for the look on his face when I chuck these flowers at him.”
Jongin wishes him good luck in a solemn voice, but he can’t help grinning at how inappropriate it is to be encouraging Do Kyungsoo to throw things at someone, no matter how how much the person deserves it.
“Thanks,” Do Kyungsoo says and he’s still got that half smile on his face. “So, how much do I owe you?”
“Eighty dollars.” Jongin’s understating the amount by at least forty bucks but Do Kyungsoo doesn’t need to know about the discount or Jongin’s reasons for giving it to him in the first place. He takes his wallet out from his back pocket and starts counting out eight ten-dollar bills.
He hands the money over to Jongin. “Thank you for your help.”
“It’s the most um, unique arrangement I’ve ever put together but I enjoyed it, Mr. Do.”
“You did an amazing job.”
“It was nothing.” Jongin isn’t chatty like Baekhyun, but he can usually hold his own in conversation with strangers. His conversational skills seem determined to abandon him now, though.
Ask me for my name and my number, Jongin whispers inside the crevices of his heart.
“I’ve got a meeting at ten so I have to make a move. Well, I guess this is it.” Do Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t ask Jongin for his name and Jongin tries not to look disappointed. With his hands wrapped securely around the vase, Do Kyungsoo gives him a polite nod before walking out of the store, and out of Jongin’s life.
Jongin sighs. Do Kyungsoo hadn’t even asked for his name let alone his number. Damnit. Jongin knows it's a dumb thing to do but he can’t help hoping that the man will show up in the store again one day, anyway.
❀ ❀ ❀
Jongin sprays Windex onto the plate glass of the display window before wiping down the surface with a cleaning cloth. Just as it always does, the sharp chemical odor pricks at his nose. Jongin tries to get the task done as swiftly as he can so he can escape from the fumes. About ten feet away, Baekhyun is sweeping cut flower stems, crushed petals and scattered leaves into the dustpan.
“So, we’re going to that sushi bar on Lincoln Avenue.”
“Nice.”
“I wonder what Sehun’s type is,” Baekhyun frowns.
“You mean you were in the workroom with him for ten whole minutes and you couldn’t even get that much out of him? I can't believe you, Byun Baekhyun!” Jongin’s eyes widen in disbelief.
“He wouldn’t give a single hint, Goddamnit. Maybe he’s just holding out for free food and let’s face it, I’m desperate enough to provide it.” Baekhyun gives a self-deprecating groan.
Jongin chuckles. “How about maybe he’s just holding out for your company, Baek? He could even be holding out for a kiss?”
“I doubt that,” Baekhyun says dejectedly as he resumes sweeping the floor.
“I happen to think that you are Oh Sehun’s type and that’s exactly what he’s going to tell you tonight. I mean—”
BANG!
For the second time in twenty-four hours, Jongin flinches at the sound of the front door crashing against the wall. Why can’t people just open doors quietly? At this rate, he’ll have to get the glass door replaced before Christmas. Baekhyun’s broom stops moving and he just stands there, staring at the newcomer with undisguised interest. Sighing, Jongin turns around to see who has so noisily invaded their space.
There’s a man in a dark suit standing by the cashier counter.
“Mr. Do?” Jongin’s heart is racing even though he’s asking it to calm itself the hell down. Why is he back here so soon? Jongin leaves the Windex and cloth on the floor before making his way to the counter. He can’t see Baekhyun anymore but he’s pretty sure his cousin is gawking at them. Openly (because subtle is not a word that exists in Byun Baekhyun’s vocabulary). Jongin walks past Do Kyungsoo before stationing himself behind the counter.
“Was there a problem with this morning's flowers? How can I help?”
“This morning’s flowers were magnificent. I don't think Julian Harroway will try stealing anything from me again. I wish I didn't have to pay for his dry cleaning but we can't have everything.”
“So are you wanting to buy more flowers, then? Not fuck-you ones, I presume?”
“No, definitely not fuck-you ones,” Do Kyungsoo laughs, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Unlike the day before, Do Kyungsoo does not slam the money down. Instead, he places two hundred-dollar bills on the counter.
“Two hundred dollars?” It's a huge amount of money and Jongin has to stifle a yelp of surprise. “Do you want the flowers to say something specific or will any flowers do?”
“How do I say date me in flower?” Kyungsoo asks. He watches Jongin very intently, like he's trying to gauge his reaction. Jongin doesn’t want to think about Do Kyungsoo dating anyone so he’s careful to keep his expression blank as he focuses all of his attention on answering the man’s question.
After a few seconds of mental browsing, he has the answer. To Do Kyungsoo’s credit, he does not make any sarcastic remarks this time, nor does he harass Jongin for the answer.
“Okay, these are my preliminary suggestions, Mr. Do. Coral roses represent desire, while pink camellias mean I’m longing for you. Jonquils mean please love me and red carnations are a symbol of admiration. You can use any combination of these different flowers.”
“Done.”
“What do you mean by done?” Jongin asks cautiously.
“I mean. . . I’ll take the flowers you suggested—all of them. Two hundred dollars’ worth. Can you do it? A bouquet of date-me flowers?”
Do Kyungsoo must really like that person to spend this much money on a bouquet for them. The whole idea of making a bouquet for Do Kyungsoo’s potential date kinda sucks. Big time. But Jongin finds himself nodding and confirming that yes, he will take the job. It’s a little pathetic but this way, Jongin will get to see him at least one more time.
Wow, that's not lame at all, Kim Jongin.
Jongin’s about to ask for the recipient’s name when they’re interrupted by a light clatter. Jongin turns in the direction of the noise. Baekhyun’s squatting on the ground, scrabbling around for his phone. Once he's retrieved it, he jumps into standing position, his body vibrating with nervous energy and excitement.
“Jongin, I gotta go. Sehun's waiting out front,” he yells as he jogs to the door. Jongin swears he's going to dock his cousin's pay one of these days for all the times he cuts out of the store before closing time. Baekhyun has got one foot out the door before he stops and turns around. Shooting a grin in their direction, he shouts a very cryptic Good luck, Mr. Do, before giving them a cheerful wave and stepping out onto the street.
“I have no idea what he means by that. Please excuse my assistant,” Jongin mumbles apologetically.
“He seems quite intuitive, actually.”
“What?” Jongin's head is kind of whirling in confusion now. He feels very much like the entire universe is in on a joke that he doesn't get.
“Why don't we settle this order first?” Kyungsoo smiles and it isn't a half-smile and Jongin has to remind himself to take the next breath, and the next, and the next.
“Right. Okay. Who should I make the card out to?”
“Well, that's the tricky part.” Do Kyungsoo chuckles and it’s a rich, deep sound that washes over Jongin in warm, gentle waves.
“I’m sorry?”
“I don't know what name to put on the card because the thing is, I never got round to asking your name.”
“I beg your pardon?” Jongin's cheeks are starting to feel hot. Very, very hot. And his heartbeat is all over the place.
“The flowers, they're for you.”
Jongin thinks he's getting an honest-to-goodness, full-strength Do Kyungsoo smile now and the effect it’s having on him is so much worse than he’d expected—he's not prepared. Also, did the guy just ask him out?
“You're giving me date-me flowers?”
“Yeah. I guess I am.”
“I don't know how I feel about getting flowers from you,” Jongin chuckles despite his overwhelming sense of nervousness.
Do Kyungsoo looks very amused as he offers to get him Godiva chocolates instead.
“Oh God, no. You don't have to give me anything. Dinner would be nice, though.”
“I can definitely feed you dinner. We didn't meet properly before but hi, I’m Kyungsoo.” He holds his hand out in a formal gesture, like they're strangers at some swanky event, meeting for the very first time.
Feeling more than a little floaty, Jongin takes the proffered hand and says, “Hi, I'm Jongin.”
❀ FIN ❀
A/