Chapter Text
Jonathan Sims hated working for Elias Bouchard. The man was snooty, vague, and generally annoying in all areas. The only thing keeping Jon in his current position was the pay, he could handle the nosiness, he could handle Elias’ inability to answer a question, hell he could handle the biyearly fundraiser banquets he was required to go to; so long as his pay stayed good. The one thing that had Jon considering quitting and never looking back was Elias and his husband. Or should he say ex-husband currently? Elias and Peter Lukas’ relationship with each other was a strange one, to say the least. They were constantly getting married and divorcing only to end up married all over again, once all within the span of a week. Jon always knew when another divorce or marriage was on the horizon because Elias had him going out on stupid errands that were most definitely not in his job description. He was a journalist dammit, he had articles to write and editing to do. And while he’d told Elias this before his complaints fell on deaf ears and he’d eventually given up. This was how Jon found himself walking for twenty minutes, in shoes that were not meant for walking, to a flower shop to ask for the world's strangest bouquet because the website required people to come in for custom orders and Elias couldn’t be bothered to do it himself; citing something about being too emotionally distraught. Coming to a halt Jon checked the slip of paper he’d scribbled the shop's name and address on. 1596 Lone Avenue, The Pollen Place. The street was very much not lonely as it was populated with several little shops including a tattoo parlor and an indie bookstore. The door to the flower shop was distressed and the brass handle was cold in Jon’s hand as he pulled it open, a bell chimed overhead as he stepped in.
“Be with you in a moment,” called a voice from the back, “feel free to look around.” Jon took the voice’s advice and perused the premade arrangements along one of the walls. They were all in his opinion, too brightly colored to be what Elias was looking for but then again he didn’t know anything about flower meanings and the description he’d been given was definitely more about meanings. He was leaning against the counter flipping through the binder of themed bouquets when the shop owner appeared. To say the man was good-looking would be the understatement of the year, he was tall and his skin was a dark brown. His hair- which was curlier than Jon’s- was pulled into a high puff with a black scrunchie that matched the dark green sweater he sported beneath an apron with a name tag that read Martin pinned to it. He looked at Jon with a pair of warm brown eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts and gave a half smile that shorted out Jon’s brain.
“What can I help you with today?” the man, Martin, asked. A beat of silence passed before Jon remembered how to speak.
“How do you say fuck you in flower?” God strike him down. Martin’s smile spread the full length of his face as he visibly held back laughter, exposing a dimple on his right cheek
“I’m sorry what? Are you in some kind of feud?” The humor was evident in his voice as Jon quickly tried to recover.
“It’s for my boss.”
“You’re telling your boss to fuck off? They must really suck.” Martin chuckled as Jon groaned at his own stupidity.
“No, I’m not- my boss is getting divorced,” Jon managed to explain, smartly leaving out an again, “And he sent me to get a bouquet of fuck you flowers, that’s a direct quote I promise. Between you and me I have no idea what that means.”
Martin chuckled again, “Ah, of course, a bouquet for deeper meanings instead of looks. And don’t worry, hardly anyone knows what the flowers actually mean they just see the colors and move on.” Jon relaxed a bit at that. “Come on to the back and let’s see if we can hook you up.” Martin waved him through and Jon came around the counter quickly, eager to spend more time in his presence. The back room was lit by a single skylight and a row of soft electrical lights on both sides of the room. There were flowers lining both walls and Martin led them to the section on the right closest to the door.
“You’ll want to start with yellow carnations, they signify disappointment in the receiver. Then foxglove, the color doesn’t matter, it stands for insincerity.” Martin went on telling him which flowers he would need and their meanings but Jon was a million miles away. He watched as Martin made an offhanded gesture, his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and the nail polish he wore was chipped slightly. He was saying something about filler flowers now and Jon was thinking about how he could listen to him talk forever about anything. They moved down the length of the wall a bit coming to a halt in front of a sea of orange. Martin was still talking and Jon managed to remember to pay attention just in time.
“We do not currently have orange lilies in stock but I can get them ordered and shipped before the end of the month if that’s alright?” Jon nodded before realizing he should probably speak.
“Yes, that would be just fine.” Martin smiled again and good lord Jon was not going to survive this interaction if he kept doing that.
“Great then let’s get you into the system and work out the details.” Martin turned and headed back to the front of the store with Jon following behind him like a smitten puppy. At the counter, Martin sat down and quickly woke up the desktop computer to log Jon’s information. “So what’s the name of the order?”
“Jon, uh Jonathan Sims.”
“Excellent will the arrangement be delivered or would you like to pick it up?”
“Pick up definitely," Jon answered quickly. Elias wanted to hand deliver the bouquet to Peter alongside the newest set of divorce papers but even if that’s not what he wanted Jon still would have chosen to pick it up just for the chance to see Martin again.
“Alright.” Martin typed the order description in quickly, “Now how big of a bouquet should this be?”
“Obnoxiously large,” Jon said earnestly, Elias was a dramatic man and he also hadn’t given Jon a budget for his fuck you bouquet.
Martin snorted, “Your boss must really hate his ex.”
“You have no idea.”
“Now what’s a phone number and email we can reach you at for this?” Jon rattled off his cellphone number and personal email. “And would you like to be added to our email list?” The question was clearly one of requirement but Jon agreed nonetheless. Martin grinned and Jon got so warm he thought he was going to combust.
“Fantastic. I just need your payment information and you’ll be all set.” Jon mechanically passed over Elias’ credit card and watched as Martin entered the information.
“Alright Mr.Sims that’s everything,” Martin stood and handed back the credit card alongside a small white business card decorated with little yellow flowers on the borders, “Here’s the shop’s contact information in case you need to call and make any adjustments. You’ll be contacted when your order is ready.” Jon tucked both items into his pocket. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
“Thank you, and with you as well.” Martin walked Jon to the door and Jon tried not to think too hard about whether that meant anything.
“See you soon,” Martin said and held the door open.
“Right yes.” Jon nodded before ducking out the door to begin his trek back to work. He tried to walk in a casual manner but the speed of his brain and heart made him unintentionally speed up until he was suddenly standing outside of his building, The Eye. Pausing on the steps he took a deep breath and calmed his heart before pushing open the large doors. He waved hello to Rosie who returned the gesture and went back to her computer, likely reorganizing Elias’ monthly schedule. He knocked on Elias’ office door and waited for confirmation before entering. The man was sitting at his desk halfheartedly scrolling through his laptop, he was such a drama queen. A spark of inquisitiveness seemed to rejuvenate him as he looked up to see Jon come to stand across from him empty-handed.
“Where are my fuck you flowers Jonathan?” During an earlier time, Jon would have shrunk under the clear scrutiny and tried to sugarcoat the explanation, but he’d grown since then.
“The shop was out of a specific flower needed for the bouquet,” he removed the credit card from his pocket and slid it across the desk, “But the man working there said he would put in an order for them and get the order made before the end of the month.”
“And you made sure you got the largest arrangement option?”
“Of course, can’t be going through all this trouble to show Peter up for something small.” Elias hummed in agreement.
“Alright, thank you, Jonathan, you may go back about your business.” Elias waved him off and resumed staring at his laptop. Jon made his escape and headed back to his office a few floors down. In the elevator he pulled out the little white business card and looked it over, there was indeed a phone number to the shop but there was also a QR code for an Instagram account. Jon scanned it, the profile picture for the account was of Martin holding a large bushel of flowers and grinning, clearly outside. There was a mix of videos and posts detailing promotional events happening at the shop, deliveries being prepared, and plants of the month. The elevator dinged open and he hurried to his office grateful when none of his coworkers stopped him, he honestly could not have managed to seem anything other than visibly flustered. At his desk, he selected one of the videos, a Plant of the Month one, and listened as Martin explained the proper care and keeping of some succulents. The feelings from before returned and Jon thanked the heavens his skin was dark enough to conceal a blush. Good lord Martin was handsome and muscular as a video of him from the previous summer would indicate. Hidden away he was free to get nothing done as he scrolled through the backlogs of videos and pictures, not realizing how long he’d been at it until he went to like a post and an alert announcing he would need to make an account came up. Looking up Jon realized two things; one he hadn’t worked on any of the tasks he had from before Elias sent him out, and two he was very much down bad for the florist he’d just met. He groaned and dropped his head onto his desk, laying his phone face down.
“Fuck.”