Work Text:
The first time Stolas gives Blitzø flowers, he brings them to the office in the middle of a work day, just a couple months after they’ve started their little arrangement. Stolas insists he needs to discuss the timing of their rendezvous in person - apparently he’ll need the damn book across multiple days this month, which means Blitzø is going to have to shut down operations in the middle of the fucking week.
“I am so very sorry for the tiny inconvenience,” Stolas coos at him after he’s stepped inside. In his hands he holds a large bouquet of flowers. He holds them out proudly, a dazzling, nearly mischievous smile on his face. “I’ve brought you some flowers from my garden as a sort of apology. Plus they’ll really brighten up the office!”
Blitzø rolls his eyes. “My office doesn’t need flowers and they definitely don’t make up for the money we’re losing from your extended holiday. Also, we’re assassins. We kill people but we’re not a funeral home.”
“Well, it is my grimoire that I am allowing you to use,” Stolas reminds him, reaching down to pinch his cheek. “But I am sorry your work will have to wait, Blitzy.”
Blitzø huffs and shakes him off, accepting the flowers. The bouquet is a mix of yellow irises and tuberose. The combination of the climbing bunches of white blossoms interspersed with flashes of yellow petals makes for a cheery display. They smell nice, too.
Stolas looks just a bit too pleased with himself, as if he’s in on his own inside joke. “I do hope you find the flowers enticing,” Stolas says, voice dropping low.
Enticing? Blitzø snorts. Fucking nerd. “Yeah sure,” Blitzø says, handing them off to Moxxie. If he didn’t have a job to get to ASAP, he’d tell Stolas right now that the joke’s on him.
Because Blitzø knows exactly what these flowers mean.
His mother had loved flowers. And not just flowers, but their meanings. He vividly remembers sitting beside her, him pressed against one of her sides and Barbie on the other, as she flipped through a book filled with flower illustrations and their meanings. She loved the idea of expressing a feeling in subtle ways. In fact, she always told them, she couldn’t imagine something more romantic than expressing how you felt through the language of flowers. Her voice always got so soft wistful when she spoke about it. Blitzø loved listening to her talk about them - it wasn’t only the flowers that had meanings, but the colors. Not just the colors but sometimes the state of the blossom itself. He lost track of how many times he sat beside her as she flipped through the weathered book, pointing out her favorites and which she would buy for him, for Barbie, for their dad.
She was the reason he’d chosen a single red rose to give Fizz along with his love letter. A representation of giving the other imp his heart.
Or it could have been. If he’d not fucked everything up.
He shakes the memories aside. These flowers, the ones Stolas has arranged, have clearly been chosen intentionally. While normally an iris would mean faith and hope, yellow irises were used to express passion. And paired with tuberose, a bloom known to represent dangerous pleasure, made the spirit of the gift rather obvious, for those who knew what to look for.
Blitzø quickly agrees to the date change, mostly so he can shoo the thirsty owl out of his office and they can get topside.
The flowers remain blooming fresh and bright, until their rescheduled ‘night of passion,’ as Stolas would say.
The next time Stolas brings him flowers, it’s after the Harvest Moon Festival.
“Just my own personal gift for your victory, Blitzy,” the owl coos after arriving (uninvited) several days after the festival. Blitzø levels a glare at Millie, whose eyes are sparkling at the gesture.
The bouquet is overwhelmed by gladiolus blooms, the large yellows, reds, and oranges striking. The much smaller nasturtium flowers are nearly lost among them, though their dark centers do make for a nice pop of black among the flowers. Both flowers mean victory and conquest. He’d almost believe there was no more to the gift than that, except Stolas has stuck some white jasmine in there, just to give the flowers some sex appeal.
Fucking thirsty bird. He’s probably implying Blitzø’s victory was a turn-on. Which fuck yeah, it should be, Blitzø had kicked ass. He really wants to call him on it, but.
All his employees are in the room, and Millie is already making that stupid fucking expression, and calling him on it is just going to encourage her.
So instead he grumbles his thanks and insists Stolas leave because he’s trying to run a business. It’s not until the crackle of the portal’s energy dissipates that he turns, flowers in hand, to face his three employees.
“What?” he snaps.
Millie clasps her hands together over her heart. “I never knew a blue blood could be so sweet,” she swoons.
“They’re just some stupid flowers,” he says. He points them at her. “Don’t make a big deal out of this. They don’t mean anything.”
“He got ‘em and brought ‘em all the way here just for you,” she says, drawl thick and lilting. “I love me some flowers.”
“Fine, take them,” Blitzø says, shoving them her way.
“I’m not takin’ your flowers,” she says. “The prince got ‘em just for you.”
“It is an odd assortment though, isn’t it?” Moxxie asks, leaning in to examine the bouquet. “If you didn’t look closely you wouldn’t even be able to tell there were three kinds in here.”
“Am I paying you to stare at flowers, or to work?” Blitzø complains.
Moxxie gives him a flat look. “We were in the middle of listening to you explain how each of the horses on the white board are reformed outlaws who formed a gang to take down current outlaws.”
“Yeah, and that’s important shit,” Blitzø says. He tosses the flowers on the nearest surface. “So come on, let’s get back to it!”
He does, once he’s finished explaining the new storyline to his employees, put the flowers in a vase though. Because they’re about him being a winner and a badass. Obviously.
Every so often, Stolas will bring new bouquets. He always has some excuse for it.
“Oh the sorrel all mixed together in my garden just so reminded me of blood splatter and that seems appropriate for an assassination business!” (Perseverance, endurance).
“Stella was just on one of her rampages again!” Stolas laughs. It sounds forced. “And I wanted to save the vase of these poor things from her wrath. She’s got quite the arm you know. I know pink camellias might not fit your office, but you could take them home?” (Longing, affection, admiration).
“Oh these azaleas? Well I had been cutting them when I was in the garden and I realized you were in trouble with those dreadful humans. After cutting them and leaving them in the grass Stella wanted fresh ones but it seemed a shame to waste them.” (Take care of yourself, have a quick recovery, developing passion).
The flowers even begin to have a regular spot on his office desk (because Loona didn’t want them near her sensitive nose, obviously). Stolas brings flowers in vases about half the time, and Blitzø is starting to get quite the collection. Once, Stolas even brings him a small selection of white and pink peonies (bashfulness, romance) in a vase in the shape of a horse head, bent over to drink. It’s his favorite vase obviously, and he ends up taking that one home with him.
(“The two of you are gross,” Loona says when he does so. She doesn’t seem to be listening when he says it’s just because of the vase.)
Blitzø doesn’t think much on them. All the flowers are rather tame. Sometimes a little gag-worthy, but it’s not as if Stolas is bringing him a dozen red roses. So he accepts the teasing of his employees and rolls his eyes at Stolas’ visits and tries not to think too hard about why he never just throws the flowers away.
A few days after Ozzie’s, he’s surprised to receive a delivery from a Hellhound at his apartment. She’s holding a large bouquet of red gardenias, sprinkled with ivy. “What’s this?” he asks her.
“Delivery,” she drawls, holding the flowers out.
He doesn’t take them. “For who?” he asks.
“Blitzo,” she says, reading off a card. “From Prince Stolas?”
He’s so surprised he doesn’t even correct her for pronouncing his name wrong. “Oh,” he says, still staring at the flowers. Still not taking them. Because this…
What the fuck is this?
“So you gonna take them?” she asks. “I have other deliveries.”
He does, only because it’s not her fault he’s pushing back the start of a panic attack. He sets them on his counter and stares at them for a long time, mind racing.
Red gardenias symbolize secret love, and ivy represents loyalty. What is Stolas saying? He’d not even shown up to deliver them, he’d paid a floral company to make and bring them to Blitzø’s home.
It’s not something Stolas can just explain away with a convenient excuse, or say they’re flowers for the office.
These are for him. Just him. There’s even a note.
He almost doesn’t open it. But he’s too fucking curious, even though his heart is pounding and he feels a bit like he might throw up. Stolas’ sloping handwriting greets him when he finally gets the courage to open it. ‘Thank you for asking me out the other night. I hope to see you soon.’
Blitzø pulls out his phone and frantically searches for the flower meaning for both of the blooms. He must be remembering wrong, he rationalizes. There’s no way this can mean what he thinks it means. Secret love and loyalty? Stolas had hidden his fucking face. And Blitzø had been using him the entire night - and it had been pretty fucking obvious he’d been doing so. The only explanation is he’s wrong, and red means anger, or something similar, because there’s no way in all the rings it could mean…
But every single source he finds says the same thing. Ivy can have a few different meanings, but red gardenias? Passion and love. Admiration and respect. And all of that, associated with secrecy.
Secrecy how? That Stolas wants them to be a secret? He’d made that pretty fucking obvious. That Stolas…what, secretly had feelings for him?
He doesn’t. He can’t. Everything about them comes down to Stolas wanting Blitzø to fuck him. That’s all this ever had been and all it ever could be.
Blitzø throws the flowers away, and takes the garbage to the dumpster for good measure.
After the crystal, after the party, Stolas stops sending flowers.
It’s not as if Blitzø expected them to keep coming. They’re not anything anymore. Stolas is better off without him. And you don’t send your ex-plaything/guilty secret/whatever the fuck they were flowers after dumping them. Or being dumped? They weren’t even together so no dumping could be done anyway.
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Everyone is better off this way.
It doesn’t stop him from checking up on Stolas’ Sinstagram posts every day. Just to see how he’s doing.
Stolas doesn’t post anything for several weeks. Probably because he’s off fucking dozens of guys that are way better for him than Blitzø. He kind of hopes he doesn’t post anything, because if it’s a selfie with some guy that isn’t Blitzø, he’s going to have to go have a whole breakdown over it. But he keeps checking, each evening, and one day there’s a new post.
Daddy_hoothoot: I quite enjoy flower arranging and haven't done so in some time. I’m very proud of this one! #gardening #flowerarrangements
The photo is of a large, intricate vase spilling over with blooms. Yellow camellias make up the bulk of the arrangement, their symmetrical layers of petals instantly drawing the eye. Sprinkled throughout the cheerful blooms are pops of pink - dicentra, also known as ‘bleeding hearts’ which seems a bit on the nose. He spots marigolds, and there’s also a flower he’s never seen before - flowers that seem to have layers of colors within the petals. He spends an embarrassing amount of time gaggling them, eventually determining they’re hellebores.
All of them together paint a clear enough picture. Heartbreak and grief. Rejected love. Lost love. Longing and sadness and regret.
Blitzø just doesn’t get it. Doesn’t understand why Stolas is so broken up over him. He’s nothing. He’s just an imp - and not just any imp, an imp that ruins the lives of everyone around him. An imp who has ruined Stolas’ life! Why the owl is mourning losing him doesn’t make any damn sense.
But he misses him. He hates that he misses that thirsty owl and his stupid plants and his ridiculous laugh. And what he hates more is that Stolas still misses him. And if Blitzø wants, he can try and fix it. He can at least text Stolas and ask if he wants to talk. Really talk, without Blitzø brushing everything off and sending nothing but memes and trying to turn the conversation back to sex.
It’s a stupid idea.
It will probably just make both of them feel worse.
He decides to try anyway.
The next time Stolas brings him flowers, Blitzø rolls his eyes and makes a big production about how Stolas is a sappy shit and that assassins really don’t need flowers.
But he’s sure Stolas notices as he takes the vase and checks the water level before carefully placing it on the table near the door. In the center, so if the table shakes when he or Loona slam open the door into the wall, the vase won’t tip over the edge. And he knows Loona notices, because she’s rolling her eyes at his antics but has this small smile on her face that makes him want to call the whole thing off, right here, right now.
It’s a simple bouquet this time of asters. The flowers look playful and fun - not exactly with the romantic connotations of roses, which makes sense since they just decided to give this a try two weeks ago. They’re a mix of colors, though - purple, which Blitzø can’t for the life of him remember the meaning of, and pink. He knows the pink ones mean affection.
He pulls out his mom’s old book once Stolas is gone and Loona is back in her room and finds purple signifies respect and admiration. He still doesn’t get it - doesn’t know what Stolas sees in him - but he’ll take it anyway.
A month later, Stolas arrives at the office to pick him up for their Friday night date with a bouquet. Loona greets him with a wrinkled nose, as the strong scent of primrose immediately fills the office. Stolas offers her a sympathetic smile. “Hello, everyone,” he says as he lingers near the doorway.
Millie elbows Moxxie, practically swooning. And to be honest, Blitzø is too. Stolas looks fantastic, dressed in a flowy, navy top with tight black pants that perfectly emphasize the shape of his legs. He’s even styled his headfeathers. And despite looking so fucking good, he’s kept the look simple, which is good since Blitzø isn’t going home to change before their date.
“Hello your highness,” Moxxie says, ever the polite nerd.
“Nice to see ya again,” Millie croons. “B has been so excited for tonight!”
Blitzø glares at her. “Hey, it’s a Friday! I can just be excited for the weekend.”
Millie grins. “And for your date,” she practically sings.
Blitzø growls and stalks towards Stolas, expression softening as he takes the flowers. “Thanks, Stols,” he says. His heart flutters looking at them. His mom’s book had always had conflicting meanings for these - they can mean either new, budding romance, or to express commitment and a desire to be together forever. Which does Stolas mean? He knows it means one of them - Stolas never brings flowers just because they’re nice to look at. They always mean something. Blitzø wishes he knew which meaning it was, though.
Stolas smiles, the expression soft. “I thought you may want to keep them in your office, as the scent might be a bit strong for Loona at home.”
A crushing wave of fondness washes over him. Not only does Stolas always select flowers to say something specific, he’s even considering his precious Looney with the gift. How can he possibly deserve someone who can be this considerate?
And it hits him with such stunning clarity - he never wants to lose this. Never wants to lose Stolas, even if it means a lot of work and a lot of concentrated effort to make sure he doesn’t sabotage this relationship.
They could be a family. Him, Stolas, both their daughters. They can work. This can work.
“Thanks,” he finally manages to force out, since he’s just been standing here staring at the flowers for a solid 30 seconds without speaking. “Let me just. Put these in the office.” He turns to make a beeline for the door, shooting another glare at Millie and Moxxie, who are sharing a look as if they have any idea what’s going on.
He makes sure to shut the office door behind him, so no one can see how carefully he sets the vase down, or the way his eyes linger on the gift before he leaves.
Blitzø is in love, and it’s pissing him off.
He’s constantly thinking about his stupid bird, and about when he can see him again. And not just for sex - just to be around him. He’s started thinking that everything - like literally pretty much everything - is more fun if Stolas is around. He keeps wanting to hold his hand and wrap his tail around his leg and other stupid sappy things.
And Stolas loves him. He’d told him, in fact, in a rush of words so quick Blitzø hadn’t been able to pick up on all of them. He’d gotten the gist of it though - that Stolas wasn’t expecting anything from Blitzø in return, that he knew it was fast, and was it okay if he loved him?
That fucking dork had actually asked if it was okay to love Blitzø. Which, yeah, he would have said no a few months ago, but not anymore!
He can’t say it back, obviously, but he’d let Stolas know that he is absolutely allowed to love Blitzø, if for some reason he wants to.
The thing is Blitzø wants to tell him. He really does. But he just can’t form the words. He’s tried dozens of times at this point - at dinner, while in Stolas’ garden, during sex, after sex, while having coffee in the morning, under the stars. But everytime he opens his mouth it won’t come out.
Stolas will be delighted, if Blitzø can ever manage to say it. And there’s no reason for it to be so hard to say. He already knows Stolas loves him so saying it should be a piece of cake.
But he can’t. Somewhere, deep down, he’s still too afraid. It still feels too risky. Like if he says it out loud, fate will take notice and interfere to fuck it all up.
He’s practicing saying it to one of his horse plushies (he’d tried the mirror first, but that was even harder than saying it to Stolas) when Loona comes in. They both still, staring at each other.
“Hi Looney!” he says finally.
She doesn’t say anything. She drops the bag from her shoulder and crosses the room, to the small bookshelf they have that are filled mostly with books about horses and band biographies. She pulls out his mom’s battered book on flower language and steps up to him, holding it out. “Here, dumbass,” she says. “Do this instead because this?” She looks from him to the plushie. “It’s pretty pathetic.”
He takes it with a sheepish smile. “Seems a little too mushy doesn’t it?”
She gives him a flat look. “You guys are already disgusting. Just do it and get it over with. Besides, you know he’ll like it.”
She’s right, of course. Stolas being a hopeless romantic who loves plants pretty much guarantees he’ll love it. And then, Blitzø doesn’t need to say it.
He knows plenty of flowers that are meant to convey love, but he makes sure to double-check every single one for any hidden meaning in the books. He sits down to make a list of all the different flowers he wants to buy, and all the different colors. He wants to make a bouquet that is filled with flowers that don’t go together - a mix of colors and blooms that won’t look pretty in the same arrangement, but all mean the same thing.
That way, Stolas should know it’s intentional.
He spends a fortune getting the blooms assembled. He gets a huge bundle of forget-me-nots, since the blooms are small and he wants to make an impact, and does the same with the heliotropes. The baby’s breath he sprinkles in, and he only adds a few stems of red chrysanthemums because frankly, they’re not his favorite but they do offer a very clear ‘love’ meaning. There’s a lot of red flowers, from the delicate honeysuckle and red iris to the more classic tulips, orchids, and roses. He adds the tall, striking red salvias because his mom’s book say they represent someone being ‘forever mine’
The bouquet is a mix of reds, blues, whites and purples, blooms tiny and huge, stems short and bulky and sometimes so tall they tower above the rest of the flowers. All of them have the same meaning, or at least similar. True, devoted love. Love that lasts. Even if he can’t say the words, he can make the flowers say it for him.
He rubberbands them together and even wraps them in fancy, bouquet paper to make them more presentable. With a final, deep breath, he forces himself to the front door of Stolas’ palace to deliver them.
Pringles raises an eyebrow at him when he opens the door, and Blitzø is about ready to give the bitch a piece of his mind, but then he smiles . A small smile, but a smile all the same. “I will retrieve his highness,” he says, and leaves, leaving Blitzø standing in the doorway holding the ridiculous bouquet.
He bites his lip and forces himself not to pace as he steps into the foyer. He can do this. He can absolutely do this. No question.
He can hear footsteps and finds himself turning without even thinking about it, almost out the door when he hears Stolas’ voice behind him. “Blitzy? Is that you?”
Shit. He stands there, facing the door. Too late to back out now. “Yep! Hey, Stolas.”
This is it. Really it. “I wasn’t expecting you,” Stolas says. His voice is warm. Pleased. “What’s the occasion?”
Blitzø sets his shoulders, and without giving himself time to think about it, spins around and holds out the bouquet to Stolas, staring at the ground. “Got these for you,” he tells the floor. “Figured I’d do some flower arranging of my own.”
He hears the intake of Stolas’ breath, and can see the slight shaking of his talons as he reaches for the flowers. Stolas’ touch lingers against his fingers, for a moment. Blitzø continues to look at the ground.
“Blitzø…” Stolas’ voice is so soft, so awed. “These are beautiful. And…”
He trails off, and Blitzø can guess why. He probably doesn’t want to assume. He forces his eyes up to meet Stolas’. The owl is staring at the blooms, eyes cataloging each one, beak parted slightly. He tilts his head down to look at Blitzø, and the imp can tell he’s holding himself back. “Yeah well,” he says finally, “my mom loved the language of flowers so.” He shrugs, looking away again. “I know a lot about it so. Made those. Collected them I mean. Into a bouquet.”
“You…so you know what these mean?” Stolas asks.
“Yep,” Blitzø says. “Even double checked.”
“You love me?”
Blitzø groans. “Geeze, are the flowers not enough? Thought you were supposed to be smart you clueless bird…”
Suddenly there are arms around him as Stolas drops to his knees in front of him, dragging Blitzø close and squeezing tight. The flowers tickle the back of his head. “Oh Blitzy,” Stolas breathes. His voice is wobbly. Fuck, is he gonna cry? “I love you, too. I love you so very much. So very deeply. Oh I want to be with you as long as you’ll have me!”
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Blitzø says, but he brings his arms around Stolas, claws burying themselves into his feathers. “You’ve said so already.”
When Stolas pulls back to look at him his eyes are glassy and he’s wearing the biggest smile Blitzø has ever seen on him. “I’m so glad,” he says. “So, so glad, Blitzø. Thank you for these.” He holds the flowers to his chest, touch delicate. “I’ll preserve them, too. I have spells for that. I-” He pauses, eyes widening. “Wait. Does that mean when I gave you flowers you…”
“Knew what they meant every single time?” Blitzø asks, grinning as Stolas’ cheeks start to pink. He chuckles. “Yeah, birdy, I knew.”
And before Stolas can start overthinking that and getting worked up, Blitzø leans in for a long, soft kiss. Stolas melts into it, pressing their foreheads together when the kiss comes to a natural end. His breath is warm against his cheeks, and the scent of flowers is strong in his nose. Blitzø feels like he’s flying.
He only wishes his mom was alive to see it. He smiles softly, and offers a mental thanks to her, wherever she may be now.