Can we get green with deckerstar please?
(Also, I can’t resist making this a Flower shop/tattoo parlor au)
Chloe doesn’t know why she’s nervous. It’s silly, really. She’s seen him mostly unclothed and had her hands against on him for hours as she worked to ink delicate petals into his skin, but somehow now she’s got the butterflies. Still, she wipes her palms nervously as she approaches his shop. Morningstar Flowers is hard to miss.
The bell jingles as she walks in. “One moment!” Lucifer’s voice calls out from the back. She looks around, her inquisitive nature prompting her to nose about. It’s not your typical florist, the lighting is low and warm and the walls a dark cherry wood. She’d mistake it for a speakeasy, if it weren’t for the tastefully displayed arrangements. Lucifer appears, looking rather startled to see her. But then he practically lights up, delight suffusing his expression.
He’s not in his typical extravagant suit, but rather a henley shirt with the buttons undone, exposing his throat, and a dark apron smudged with dirt. There’s a smear of soil near his cheek like he’d wiped at his face without realizing. The tattoos on his forearms are on display, his sleeves rolled and cuffed. She can’t help but admire them. Her own work peeks out a little at his collar, thin inked petals edging out, teasing at more. The desire to reach out and trace the lines twitches her fingers before she smothers it.
“Chloe!” He smiles at her as he sets a small potted sapling down on the counter. “What a surprise.”
She does her best to return it, but it feels shaky on her face. “Hi, Lucifer.” There’s a beat where they both sort of stand and stare at each other. “Um, could I buy a bouquet?”
Her question seems to snap him to reality. “Oh! Yes, yes of course,” he says, wiping his hands on his apron. “How can I help you? We have some lovely selections, just got stock in from-”
“It’s, um, it’s for someone important to me, so I’d like to choose specifically the flowers that go in it, if that’s all right.”
He blinks, but doesn’t let it slow him down. “Of course. Any particular preference regarding the container?”
She hadn’t considered that. “No, whatever you think is best. It’s for a bunch of different flowers.”
“Ah, so you already have something in mind, very good. Shall we step in the back?”
“Sure,” she says and steps around the counter when he gestures for her to move forward. She brushes by him and he smells like rich, freshly turned dirt and clean sweat. His eyes are dark in the low light.
He leads her to rows and rows of flowers, some freshly cut, others still planted. He snags a plastic pot and sticks a pair of shears in his front pocket. “Right,” he smiles, effortlessly alluring. “Where would you like to start?”
She shifts he weight back and forth, biting her lip, trying to decide how to go about this. She’d done so much research for his tattoos and now it all seems to flee her brain. Did the order matter? Or was it just the end presentation? Lucifer saves her after a moment of indecision.
“Shall we start with the foundation? Perhaps some hydrangeas or chrysanthemums?”
“Not hydrangeas,” she says quickly. “Chrysanthemums would be fine as long as they’re white.” Loyalty. Devotion.
“All right.” Lucifer moves over to the flowers in question and snips some, arranging it carefully.
His eyebrows raise. “Any particular color?”
“Red. Purple would be fine, too.” Undying affection. Patience. Wisdom.
He’s quiet as they move to a different section. He cuts them expertly and Chloe can’t help but watch his broad hands as they work. “Might I ask...Is the recipient male or female?”
“Male,” she answers, firm.
His mouth presses thin. “I see. Well. I’d advise for choosing darker colored flowers, in that case.”
She shakes her head. “No. No, it’s got to be just right.”
He nods, not looking at her. “Very well, what next?”
They gather up the rest of the flowers. Light red carnations. Admiration. Ranunculus. I find you charming. Valerian. Readiness. Red tulip. Love.
Chloe can hear the rush of blood in her ears as Lucifer carefully places the bright tulip in the center. “Is that all?” he asks when she doesn’t name off another flower.
“Yes.” The walk back up to the counter seems longer than it did when she came in. Lucifer carefully wraps the arrangement, the crinkling of paper and plastic loud in the silence. He reads her the price and she pays it without thinking.
“Oh, I forgot a flower,” she says, pretending at absentmindedness. Her voice sounds too high. Is her voice too high? Lucifer’s jaw flexes.
“Not a problem, what did you wish to add?”
She eyes the large sprays of Lucifer’s signature flowers on display behind him, the same ones she painstakingly rendered onto his body, flowing along the natural curve of his spine, curling over the arch of muscle between his neck and shoulder.
“Lilies,” she says, and he finally, finally, looks at her. “Morningstar lilies.”
He swallows. She sees the moment he realizes who these flowers, who this message is for. “Oh,” he says softly. He touches the bouquet in front of him with reverent fingers. “Are you quite sure? I- I fear the lilies might be...a bit damaged.”
“That’s okay,” she says. “I think they’re beautiful anyway.”
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