An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
a fic I wrote for my good dear bestie @sqquidinc!!! post ch3 spamtenna fluff is important to the ecosystem and I wanted to give him some as a thanks for being such a good friend and supporting my spamtenna analysis early on. this guy is the reason I keep posting it and getting into it and eventually plan to make a video with him!! I couldn't do it without you squid, you're an earnest inspiration for so many people around you. never forget that
also fun fact this is inspired by me actually crashing my bike and going to the ER and resting and talking to my gf lol
Pairing: Heinrix van Calox x OC (Elliana von Valancius)
Summary: While in Commorragh, Heinrix and Elliana must fulfill an alternate agreement to free the rest of the entourage.
Word Count: 3,015
Warnings: dead dove do not eat, I'm serious y'all. medical horror, body horror, gore, graphic depictions of medical and body trauma, blood, knives, cutting, guts, muscles, organs, fingers go inside an injury, an inside part becomes an outside part, vivisection, restraints, medical experimentation, torture, flaying, dissociation, canon kidnapping, canon imprisonment, there is one (1) mention of the canon sex event
Tagging a couple people I think may be interested: @fourraccoonsinacoat @vitanithepure
read on AO3 | masterlist
A/N: calling this a romance fic in any way is really kind of pushing the definition a bit. this is horror through and through. I tried to stick to characterization as much as possible. it takes place in commorragh post-heinrix in the vat thing but pre-them getting out of the lab (obviously). this is nasty. if any of the above will trigger you please do not read it. there is not fluffy romance or nasty smut to make it worth it.
the prompt "I don't want to do this" and makeshift laboratory came from this whumptober prompt list
huge thanks to @spiritsong for allowing me to pick their brain about Heinrix characterization, I quite literally could not have done it without you. 2k+ of this was written after your help.
finally, I'm actually really proud of how this turned out, and I normally don't say that, but I'm just. it's my baby a little bit actually. it was a lot of fun to write something really truly gruesome.
also because it's so nasty, the whole thing is under a readmore
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-
The Rogue Trader blinked, the world around her blurry and unfamiliar. She tried to move her arms, her legs, but something was holding her down, cool metal touching bare skin wherever she moved. She tried to lift her head, but that, too, seemed to be restrained. Her breathing quickened, panic coursing through her body before she felt a strange coolness working its way through her veins, her body relaxing despite her mental struggles.
“Ah good, the leader of your merry little band awakens.” A mocking voice came from across the room, though she could make out nothing usable to identify who was speaking. “Welcome to Commorragh, my dear. I hope you’re comfortable. I can’t wait to see what that human body of yours can withstand.” A small chuckle.
She felt a shift beside her, someone gripping the edge of the surface she was strapped to. She identified the tightness in Heinrix’s voice, saw his furrowed brow in her mind’s eye, before she even acknowledged the words. “Let her go, xenos. I’ll stay here and do your experiments for the sake of the rest of the entourage, but do not involve her.”
She tried to speak, to tell him to run, to fight – anything to get him away from whatever was happening here, without turning himself over to the whims of these xenos, but found her voice didn’t work, her mouth barely opening on her command.
“Ah, ah, ah, little Interrogator. You know the deal. I’ll let the whole lot of you go – as soon as you’re done with the experiments. With her, specifically.”
She saw Heinrix enter her field of view, the pain in his eyes hurting her as much as the restraints digging into her skin. She tried to project an aura of calm to let him know that she could tolerate whatever had to happen to get them all out of there alive.
His voice was low, just for her, as he provided a status report. “Everyone else is either locked in cages or some sort of pods the xenos has for the psykers. It’ll only let everyone go if we play this sick game. All I have to do is give the word and it’ll let you go, and the rest of us will remain here. Blink once if you understand.”
She closed her eyes and opened them back immediately, trying to spend as little time as possible in her own mind.
“Do you want me to tell it to let you go? Once for yes, twice for no.”
Two quick blinks in succession.
“Somehow I knew that’s what you would say. It wouldn’t let me – well, it wanted you to be awake before the choice was made. Otherwise I wouldn’t have given you the choice, the rest of us be damned.” A corner of his mouth twitched up, but no light met his eyes.
Her gazed softened as she realized just how well he knew and respected her, even in a situation where he would fundamentally disagree with her decision. He knew that this crew was her family, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to get them all home safely. He knew, and he trusted, and he followed. And if she died today, she could be happy that someone had truly understood her on a level she could have never asked for.
“Just… please know I don’t want to do this. There is nothing in me that is okay with what is happening. Please hold on, Elliana. For me.”
“How sweet, the big bad Interrogator has a crush on the crime lord. Who could havepossiblypredicted this outcome.” The xenos chuckled from its position across the room. “Ah, well, that will just make this even more fun for me! A two-for-one torture special. Who will it hurt more, I wonder? Time to find out! Interrogator, if you please, let us first see what happens if you start tearing the skin.”
Elliana tried to nod at Heinrix, but the metal band allowed only the most minimal movement of her head. She only hoped she was projecting a level of calm that would at least put Heinrix at ease, even if she couldn’t manage to calm her own thoughts. She stilled her fingers where they wanted to twitch and shake, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, waiting for the feel of sharp metal against flesh.
The scratch of the knife on the metal tray still made her jump.
She felt the tip of the knife touch her upper arm, pulling along the skin just enough to scratch, but not quite enough to draw blood. She shivered, breathed deeply, and remembered her sessions with Kibellah, allowing her body to relax into the sensation and emptying her mind.
She barely heard the xenos scolding Heinrix through the fog of her meditation, only catching pieces.
“ - can do better – you have – her scream”
Heinrix’s voice came through clearer, as the one thing she had trained herself to always zero in on – the one thing that could always bring her back from the edge. He was calm, confident, with no hint of hesitation in his voice as he assured the xenos scum of his impeccable interrogation record. “I will do what you require to ensure the safety of the crew. It will not be a problem. I am very well versed in the ways of bringing out the worst pain in humans and xenos alike, as you likely know after my little stint in your… vessel.”
“ - on with it then.”
The knife scratched lightly again, this time along her ribcage, tracing under the shadow of her breast before trailing down. The blade still never pressed hard enough to draw blood. It seemed that Heinrix was exploring, testing which parts of her were most sensitive. She allowed herself the briefest moment of regret that it wasn’t happening under very different circumstances before the knife’s tip was suddenly pushed slowly, confidently against her flesh. The flat of the blade was still pressed against her ribs, the tip beginning to dig sideways right below her ribcage, at her diaphragm. The knife sliced, pulling a strip of flesh with it.
She did not scream. She did not groan. She did not even whimper. But her eyes flew open and searched for Heinrix, though she knew her field of vision was limited. He was leaned over her, and their eyes met, hers pained and scared, his cold and calculating. She could see nothing here of the man she had come to respect so greatly, and her fear only grew as she realized there was truly no turning back from this.
The blade returned to her flesh, pushing aside freshly exposed fat and scratching and prodding at the underlying muscle. She closed her eyes again and breathed, relaxing into the knife, allowing the blade to sink into flesh unimpeded by her strain. As soon as she relaxed, the knife retreated, and the exploration started again anew. She tried to maintain a state of relaxation, or at least dissociation, as the knife searched for its new home.
He traced down her stomach, leaving more shallow cuts that bled and more flayed strips of skin that would scar. One particularly deep cut near her belly button still did not provoke the desired response. Heinrix pointed the tip directly into the meat of her thigh, tracing down to the point it met her knee, before pushing in.
And then she did scream. It seemed the screaming wouldn’t stop for hours as Heinrix continued poking and prodding and cutting and slicing, pausing for reactions, humming in satisfaction of a job well done when he got a unique sound or reaction.
What seemed like hours may have only been minutes, the number of new scars on her body may never have been countable, and her voice may never recover, but the cutting did eventually stop when the xenos spoke up once more.
“Now then, let’s see what’s inside all those… exquisite holes you’ve made, hm?”
“What?”
Elliana tried to imagine the expression Heinrix was currently making, trying to match it to the tone of his voice, but could only see the cold, calculating eyes of the man who had become her tormentor and could only hear the voice of someone proud of a torture well-executed.
“You heard me. I want to see what’s inside.”
“Don’t you have enough corpses for that to not be my problem?” Heinrix sounded bored. Elliana couldn’t understand how he was so nonchalant about this. About literally pulling her apart, hearing her scream for mercy, for help. For him. He hadn’t any reaction throughout the, apparently first part of, her torture. And now he sounded bored, put out. Like the thought of ripping her open was simply an inconvenience.
He had told her he didn’t want to do this. He said he was not okay with this. He sounded bored. She felt her mind beginning to break and twist the reality she knew into something other under the pressure of the pain Heinrix was inflicting on her. She imagined him almost smirking, enjoying the feeling of her raising terror and the pain he was inflicting on her. She could nearly feel the shivers of pleasure her mind was conjuring for him, for the reactions he might have had to her exposed and vulnerable in this way.
Focusing on her own body, her own breathing, seemed to be failing to control her rising terror and panic, so she tried to refocus on her companion. He was the one person she had come to truly trust in the cold expanse of the universe and the one person she always felt she could rely on to consistently show her the truth even when he may not say it aloud, she felt a tear slide across her face as she realized his breathing was perfectly calm, there was no shakiness to the way he held the knife against her skin, no indication that he was in any way affected by the torture she was enduring. There was no proof at all against her spiraling thoughts.
She closed her eyes tightly. She had no desire to see anything or anyone in this room any longer.
Heinrix must have reached an agreement with the xenos, because it wasn’t long before Elliana felt pressure along one of her fresh stomach wounds. Heinrix slid two gloved fingers just inside the opening, pulling the flesh back to expose the organs underneath. After the pain of the cuts, the pulling seemed mild, and the pinch of the mechanisms used to hold her open even more so.
She opened her eyes just enough to catch sight of the xenos peering over her body, inspecting the organs of her gut like she was a rat in a lab. It reached slender fingers toward the opening, and she cringed back in expectation of the alien touch, only for it to be stopped by Heinrix grabbing it harshly.
He was still calm when he spoke, though a hint of tension sneaked around the edges of his words. “No touching. The human body is very fragile. The slightest wrong motion could set the whole thing off, and I would prefer to avoid that if possible. It would also go against our agreement if not all of us made it out of here alive, you understand.”
The xenos paused, hand hovering over her vulnerable body, before nodding and putting its hands behind its back. “Open this one please, Interrogator.”
Heinrix complied, moving to another cut and repeating the procedure to pull and hold open the wound. His hands were steady as he further exposed Elliana to the xenos, which was moving its head to inspect the organs on the other side.
“This one here – why does it move like this?” The xenos asked Heinrix, pointing at various places through the hole in her gut as if asking a mentor a question during a lesson.
And Heinrix seemed all too happy to provide a thorough explanation of the inner workings of the body. “That? Oh, that’s nothing particularly interesting. These are the intestines. It’s a bit of smooth muscle filled with nutrients that performs peristalsis to move the nutrients through the body, eventually leading to excretion.”
“This happens without the input of the human system?”
“That’s partially correct, the human central nervous system has no active control over the movement of these individual muscles. Peristalsis is completely passive, though that does still technically require unconscious input, and occurs in only a few muscles even in the human body.”
“That’s surprisingly efficient, for a mon-keigh.”
“We make up for it in other inefficiencies.” Heinrix sounded almost amused. “More interesting is that humans have several organs that serve essentially no purpose at this point in our evolution. See this one here? Completely unnecessary.” Elliana felt Heinrix run a finger along the organ, saw the organ enter her field of vision clearly detached from her body, and promptly passed out.
-
When Elliana came to, she no longer felt the pressure of the metal bands holding her down. She sat up quickly, reaching for the nearest object she could turn into a weapon, but immediately regretted it as she felt the world spin as if she’d had too many bottles of amasec.
She leaned over and emptied the very minimal contents of her stomach onto the floor, body aching and various wounds pulling open. As soon as her vision cleared, she took quick stock of the injuries, which all appeared to have been very carefully, steadily stitched up. Her own marred flesh felt foreign where she touched it.
“You’ll not want to agitate those for a while if you can help it. At least until we get somewhere safer, where I can – where someone can – where you can get better treatment for them. They’ll likely scar, anyway. Your clothes are there on the table. I’ve distracted the xenos with – well, it’s probably better if you don’t know actually. Either way, you’ll likely want to hurry as much as you can while it’s busy, Lord Captain.”
His voice was still cold and calm, giving away no underlying sense of remorse or regret about the last hours of torment he had put her through. She did not look at him and said nothing in response, just reached for her clothes and slipped into them. She left the coat unbuttoned, but her fingers fumbled with the laces of her boots. She huffed in frustration, unwilling to leave them untied in case they needed to move quickly. She pulled the laces tight again and tried to go through the motions of tying them securely, only for them to fall through her shaking fingers.
A large hand reached down and covered both of hers, causing her to flinch back harshly, knees pulling up to protect her soft, already injured belly. The hand pulled away, and she looked up at him with wild, scared eyes, waiting for the hit, for the pain, for the cut. When none came, she calmed a bit, still not completely relaxing back into his space. She watched him then, like a hit mastiff might watch an abusive handler.
Heinrix looked awful, clothes wrinkled, hair a mess, large dark circles formed under his eyes. He kept his gaze down and his voice cracked as he knelt to the ground in front of her, reached a hand out more gently, and offered his assistance. “Allow me, Lord Captain.”
She pulled her hands away from her boots, watching him still, still partially waiting for the hit. As she watched, the silence grew, and it seemed to settle in her mind that the hit wasn’t coming, not now. He looked almost as battered as she felt, though she wondered if he’d even experienced any physical trauma during their stay in this place. She supposed maybe it didn’t matter, though the screaming of her muscles told her maybe it did.
Regardless, she lowered her legs slowly, one at a time, allowing him to begin to apologize in whatever way he needed. She didn’t know that she could ever look at him without some part of her recoiling at the pain she had just experienced at his hands, but she did know that seeing him in this state hurt her too, and that had to mean something. All of this had to mean something, or what was it all for? She had to try to move forward. That was all any of them could ever do in this cold, unforgiving universe.
So she allowed him to get on his knees to lace up her boots, and she didn’t thank him for it. She took his hand to help her off the table when he offered, and she didn’t thank him for it. She let him free the remaining members of the entourage from their cage, and she didn’t thank him for it. She followed him to a place he cleared and made safe for them, and she didn’t thank him for it. She ate the meager offerings of food he found though she knew he hadn’t had any himself, and she didn’t thank him for it.
And later, when they were far from the lab and the xenos experiments; when she had finally spoken enough to ask Heinrix to help her redress her wounds, the wounds that he had caused; when she had grabbed his face in her hands, forced him to look her in the eye, and see that she was alive; when they had held each other while they talked through what had happened; when they planned their revenge on the xenos who had taken something sacred between them and turned it evil; when she said she would kill anyone who ever stood between them like that again and meant it.
When Heinrix thanked her for staying beside him and worshipped her and apologized with his mouth and his tongue and his cock in the middle of filthy, heretical Commorragh, over, and over, and over – well, she didn’t thank him for it then, either.
Okay for this year's @heropartnerweek I decided to do all writing? Is it worth it? IDK. Will this get any attention? Nope. Just wanted to try something different.
Summary: Clara and Echo talk about what they call home
Word count: 743
Note: Story stars my PMD2 Hero (Clara the Skitty) and Partner (Echo the Piplup). One of the first few lines mentions JUST graduating from the guild, mean none of the other post game stuff happens (In case the timeline's confusing)
“Hey Echo, I’ve been thinking, could I truly call this place my home?” Clara suddenly asked.
Echo had stopped organizing the items from their treasure bag when she heard her partner speak up. She looked at her with slight confusion.
“Is Sharpedo bluff not comfortable enough?” She asked back.
Echo knew the two of them had just graduated from the guild, so she wondered if the more outside cliff area was too much in comparison to the indoor area of their old room.
Clara was confused for a moment herself, until she realized how vague her question was.
“No, what I meant to say was, could I truly call this timeline my home instead of the world of the future?”
That made Echo even more confused on what the Skitty said. She has never seen Clara this conflicted on something this major, at least not to this degree.
“If you don’t mind me asking, is this a recent thought?” The Piplup shifted closer to her.
“I suppose it is.” Clara sighed as she looked over to her partner’s worried glance before continuing. “Things have been at peace these last few months ever since the planet’s paralysis was prevented in this world. So it just made me wonder about things.”
Echo nodded as if she understood. Their entire adventure up to this point had the two girls go from place to place, dungeon to dungeon. Slowing down was not an option, especially when time was in danger. But now that it was peaceful, it would make sense Clara would be thinking of who she was now.
“I know it’s probably pointless to think of it.” Clara admitted. “I already know there’s no way to even access the future, if it’s even still around. We don’t even know if the other future pokemon have all completely disappeared from time or if by some miracle they came back like me…”
Echo, once again nodded understanding her partner’s perspective on the situation.
“I mean, I wouldn’t call it pointless.” Echo spoke up given a slight optimistic tone. “If you can come back, I can’t see why the others couldn’t.”
“I suppose so.” Due to her tone, Echo could not tell if Clara believed her words or not.
“But I will say, what place you call home is really the place you choose and not where you were born. At least that’s how it feels to me…” Echo let her voice soften on that last part.
“Was it like that for you when you left your home? I know you do not talk about your family much. I only know you see Bidoof as a cousin, and that you visited often as kids, but not much.” Clara asked curiously
“Kind of…” Echo looked away for a moment as if she was uncomfortable. “It’s not like I had a horrible childhood or my parents were bad. If anything it was great…until some point, and part of me wonders if I just made it hard for my brother when we were alone…”
“You have a brother?”
“Yeah, he almost didn’t want me to leave on my own when I asked him, but he did and at least that gave me made me choose my life outside my birth home.”
“Well, I’m glad he let you leave, otherwise I would have never met you.” Clara said with a smile.
That made Echo’s heart skip a beat. She could feel her face flush from the response. “Yeah, same here…”
“I think you’re right about what makes a place a home.” Clara said with thought. “I feel if I did leave this timeline, I would miss a lot of mons. I would miss the guild, our teammates, but more importantly…you.”
That made Echo even more fluster that she was not sure how to respond.
“But I still think about the future, and I feel guilty for not remembering my time with Grovyle and the others. That’s why I’m not sure about all this.” Clara sighed.
“Well, I’ll support your decision, no matter what happens.” Echo did not like the idea of Clara ever leaving, but she would go to the ends of the earth for her. “You’ve always helped me with my issues; I think it’s fair I can do the same.”
Clara felt herself feeling almost relieved. She stood up and stretched. “I suppose we wouldn’t be a team if we did have each other’s backs. So, thank you Echo.”
ahhhh okay i started writing 3 different balor fics before we got here, i struggle to write him so much!! (but thank you for making me practice /gen) <3 i present you with: flustered balor having a big ol’ crush on ari
balor/farmer | ficlet: 355 words
the sun dipped below the horizon as balor made his way back to mistria. wagon wheels creaking, hooves clopping down the dirt road. it had been a long week of negotiations in the capital and he was exhausted. he needed good company and a hot meal.
the familiar warmth of the sleeping dragon inn washed over him as he stepped inside. hemlock smiled and waved him over to the bar. “welcome back balor! how was the capital?”
balor chuckled. “insufferable, as always.” he took off his cloak and draped it over the back of a chair. “anything interesting happen while i was away?”
hemlock poured him a glass of wine. “i had a little chat with ari the other day…” he trailed off suspiciously. balor's face lit up, far more than he intended. he quickly recovered his cool demeanor, but hemlock smiled knowingly.
“you've gotta talk to her, balor.”
as if summoned, ari entered the inn at that exact moment. hemlock looked extremely amused, balor was visibly flustered. “speak of the devil,” he muttered.
“balor!” ari grinned at him. “welcome back! i have something for you.” she rustled through her bag, pulling out the largest ruby that balor had ever seen. his eyes went wide as she dropped it into his hand. “this is… incredible!”
“i thought you'd like it!” ari beamed at him.
“are you sure… you want to give this to me? this would fetch a pretty penny in the capital.” he stared at the ruby, transfixed by its beauty.
“of course i want to give it to you, you like shiny things! and i like you, so i want to give you shiny things.”
balor's cheeks flushed pink. how could she just say that so casually? “i… i’m at a loss for words, ari. thank you.”
she grinned at him, winking as she turned to head out. balor melted into a puddle at the bar. he groaned loudly. “why does she do this to me?”
hemlock was clearly amused by the whole situation. he opened his mouth but balor groaned again, cutting him off. “i know, i know… i’ll talk to her.”
Summary: Mike is a tattoo apprentice next door to a flower shop, and he needs flowers before his mom’s flight comes in. Now he meets Stanley, the man who runs the shop with the flowers, and is actually kind of cute now that he thinks about it. (It’s chapter one from Mike’s perspective).
Words: 3,891
ao3
A/N: Wow, I posted chapter one on December 20th, 2017 and I’m uploading this one September 28th, 2019. I totally did not mean to leave it this long but I guess I was plagued with all the regular excuses: I got caught up with school work, lost most interest in the fandom, didn’t feel attached to the piece anymore, etcetera. I felt bad for leaving this abandoned, especially when I had half of chapter two written already, I just needed to finish it. I wrote the other half so here it is. Do I have a plan for chapter three? Yes. Do I have anything written? No. I don’t know if or when chapter three will be written but here’s chapter two.
One / Two / Three
Mike didn’t give much thought to the buildings around his work; they were all just the surrounding area and they were buildings that he passed- a part of his scenery. There was an electronics store, a small music shop, and the flower store, it was all just a part of the day to day that he started living.
When his mom called from the airport in Augusta, and told him that her and his grandmother were on their way to visit, he was frantic. Mike was trying to remember the last time he cleaned his apartment, if he had enough room in the apartment to keep his parents, if he had enough food for dinner, if he left the Chinese take out on the counter where his cat could get it, and shit, the flowers.
(His mother always loved flowers. After his father died when Mike was a teenager he promised himself that he would always get her flowers when he visited back home, when she came down, or on random days when he felt like he should do something nice and he would order them in Derry. It wasn’t something that his mom demanded, or that anyone demanded, but it was his own rule that he planned to stick to for the rest of his life, and the flower store next to his work would help mike put his mind at ease.)
Mike probably wore his anxiousness about the circumstances like a coat, it was all over him: thinking about when his mom and grandma were coming in, how fast he could make his apartment look presentable, how many dishes he left in the sink, how to dodge questions about what his plan was and when he was going to settle down and move out of that small apartment and get a nice house with someone, what time their flight was arriving and how he was going to find enough time to walk back home after work, get his car, and meet them at the airport to pick them up.
He had spent most of the morning working with Richie on some of his sketches and composition. Mike couldn’t tattoo yet because he didn’t have his license and he was just an apprentice at this shop, so his job right now was to help out in any way while Bev and Richie taught him how to tattoo when they had particularly slow or client-less days (they had him start on bananas before they would start making ads out for a free, apprentice done tattoos, so he could learn before permanently defacing someone’s skin). This morning, Richie had gone to mike for suggestion of placement and color choices and Mike helped him.
After Mike finished, he cleaned up the lobby and the desk and reorganized everything; he kept thinking about everything that he had to deal with when he got home. He thought of everything he absolutely had to do (1) clean the apartment, at least put the dishes in the dishwasher, (2) clean up his bedroom. (His mom and grandma would be sharing his bed and he would sleep on the couch. Mike can’t give them a dirty room with clothes and random things thrown around all over the floor of his bedroom), and (3) get the flowers for them.
Then at lunch time Mike got all of their lunches from the Chinese place a couple blocks away and they all ate lunch together in the breakroom that is just one of the small rooms that they had in the back. One room was Bev’s tattoo room, one was their breakroom, and the last was Mike’s tattoo room (that wasn’t getting much use yet, as he hasn’t started tattooing yet). Richie’s ‘room’ was open and a part of the main lobby so that everyone who went into the tattoo parlor could see him do his work.
After lunch was Mike’s break, and he decided to get on to his list of must-dos. His break was only fifteen minutes long and he didn’t think he’d have enough time to go home and clean up AND get flowers so he decided to one of two. He could straighten up (more like shove everything either in his closet or under his bed) while he was playing host but he couldn’t put off flowers, so that’s what he did. Mike thanked the lord that there was a florist right next door that he passed by everyday on the way to work. It worked better than him having to go all the way across town or making phone calls for all of his fifteen minute break.
Mike made his way on the sidewalk, and looked at the building, at the yellowish paint on the outside and the dark, almost army green paint that made the window sill. He had never given the shop much thought; it was just another shop of the many on their street, but now it was a savior in a day where he needed every miracle he could salvage.
The ding of the bell over the door almost distracted Mike from his thoughts until he saw the tall shelves and the green leaves and blotches of pink, yellow, red, and white petals all around the room.
Mike heard the clang of something setting on the table and he turned to the noise, seeing a man setting a clay pot on the counter that he could see through the door. The guy had hair cropped short and curled a little bit on the top, a green button down with a name curled in embroidery above the breast pocket. He had dirt stained gloves covering his hands.
The man turned to Mike. “Hi, how can I help you?”
Mike played with his hands, bending back his knuckles and fidgeting, before he spoke. “My mom and grandma are coming into town for a visit and I need anything you can throw together.”
Was that too much information? Should Mike have just asked for two bouquets?
“Alright,” the guy said. “I can set you up.”
Mike felt something come off his shoulders. At least he could get the flowers for them, if he couldn’t clean and he couldn’t cook something, at least he could keep the promise he made for himself for his mom. The man took off his gloves. “When are they coming in?”
Mike took a breath. “Tonight.”
Mike leaned over the counter, putting his hands on the cool yellow counter. “They surprised me with a call while they were at the airport and I can’t call 1800 flowers, not after last time.”
Mike tried not to think about the bad time when he was very, very desperate and he did call 1800 flowers and it did not go how he wanted. Mike hoped never to call them again.
The man nodded his head, which gave Mike a little bit of solace, “Okay, we can do this. Do you know what flowers or what colors they like?”
Mike was relieved, it won’t be the worst thing because mike will get the flowers, he’ll find a way to clean the apartment, he’ll manage to fix something good to eat, and he’ll make sure that everything goes well between now and when they board their plane back. And, the man behind the counter asked the question that Mike definitely knew the answer to.
“My mom likes irises and the color yellow and my grandma likes all the small pink flowers- that I do know.”
The man behind the counter smiled, it was small and not forced, like he was smiling at mike. Mike smiled in return and tapped his fingers on the counter.
“Yeah, we can do that. Give me a quick minute to pull out some stuff from the back and let’s see what we can make up, yeah?”
Mike nodded and let himself rest for just a second, leaning over the counter and putting his upper body weight on his elbows.
The man with the curly hair disappeared into the back of the door through a beige swinging door and Mike waited.
Behind the counter (and around the store) were mostly shelves of small flower pots with flowers working to take up space around the store. There was also a piece of framed pink paper, but the writing was too faint for Mike to read. There was a photograph, framed in an old gold decorative frame; It was a picture of what looked to be two young boys in a garden. Mike can’t see the boys faces but one has curly hair down past his jaw, so Mike assumes it’s pictures of the man, the guy who works at this little flower shop.
There were empty pots altogether, different than the ones that the flowers were held in. These were more decorative and had little designs carved into them. They had a little sign in the middle that said, ‘you want one of these pots to be your own? ask for details!’
The door suddenly swung open and there he was, arms full of cup sized, plastic pots of flowers, ones like he described to the flower shop man. “It was two bouquets, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” Mike choked out.
The man sat down all the little pots on the counter and Mike leaned in closer to have a better look at the flowers. The man began separating them into groups, by the colors Mike could see what the man- a quick look at his name tag- Stanley, was thinking. “This is what I’m thinking: we have the irises and we have the yellow pansies to make the purple stand out. Then we have some orange poppies to make the blue in the irises stand out. We just need something white or cream colored to make all the other colors stand out.”
Mike understood what he was saying. The color theory and the complements of colors, it was all basic information that was in the back of his head as an artist. Wait- “Aren’t there flowers that look like this-” Mike left his fingers brush against the yellow flowers, the pansies- “but, like, smaller and cream colored? I think I did a piece with them a few weeks ago. Johnny somethings.”
“Johnny Jump Ups.” Stanley said almost immediately. “I think I have some of them, not a lot of people ask for them. Let me check.”
Back through the door he went and Mike watched him go. This Stanley sure is cute, he thought without realizing. Then realizing, mike took in the thought and let it simmer until Stanley came back through the door with another tiny flower.
“These are perfect.” He showed Mike the tiny flowers. He was right in his memory of the flowers, small, white and they looked like the yellow pansies but an off white with light purple faded on the ends of each petal. Stanley was right. With the other flowers, the Johnny Jump Ups were perfect in composition. “They’re small enough to fill up space but pretty enough they’re not out of place.”
“Yeah, I did a few flashes with them, I got used to drawing them.” With the florist’s confused look, Mike explained. “I’m an apprentice at the tattoo parlor next door, it was such a relief to have this shop next door with them coming to town.”
“Oh, yeah cool. I guess you do a lot of flower stuff.”
Mike laughed. That fact was true. Even though he mostly helps with drawings and compositions he has drawn a lot more flowers since getting a job at the parlor next door. “Yeah, almost once a day, probably even more once I’m not an apprentice and I’m a fully licensed artist.”
“That’s really cool.”
Mike smiled at the man in front of him. Along with cute, the florist was sweet. This didn’t feel like a transaction only conversation. It felt like Mike was talking to a friend, or a more than friend.
“And for your grandma’s set I was thinking these peonies with the carnations and the light purple petunias. It’s a lot softer than the other one.”
“You thought of all of that on the spot back there?” Mike asked, curious. “Are you a wizard?”
“Yes. The flower wizard, making sure that everyone has something pretty.” Cute, sweet, and funny.
“Good, I would only trust a flower wizard to make these bouquets.” Stanley let out a little laugh before he paused.
“So you like the idea? The flowers all together?”
Mike nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, it’s amazing, perfect, thank you.”
Stanley behind the counter reached out for a pad of paper, and began writing, what Mike assumed what his order was. After scribbling for a moment, Stanley spoke again. “Can I get your name?”
“Michael. Mike Hanlon.”
“Alright, I’ll get this form all filled out for you. You said they were coming in tonight, when will you need them by?”
Mike stopped. He didn’t want Stanley to quit everything to work on his. He didn’t want to be a disruption. “Don’t drop other stuff to get mine done quickly. I don’t want you to-“
Stanley stopped him quick enough. “Mike, it’s two bouquets. I can do them pretty quick. What time do you need them done?”
Mike thought about it. Mike got off work at six o’clock on the dot. The plane arrived at 6:45 so he would want to leave as soon as he got off work, but he had a ten or fifteen minute leeway if he wanted to clean a little bit before he left for the airport. “I can come by before 6, or you could drop them off in the parlor considering that our door goes into my room.”
“I always wondered what I’d find on the other side. I guess I didn’t want to accidentally run into something awkward or something.”
Mike laughed. It felt like the conversation was coming to and end and Mike didn’t want that end to come. Maybe Mike could see Stanley again when he didn’t need flowers, maybe to dinner, a date perhaps? “Just little ol’ me. Thank you so much for doing this, on such short notice.”
“It’s no problem, honestly. I’m just going to need your phone number to complete the order form.” Mike felt a little smirk grow on his face and he spoke before he could really think through the words coming out of his mouth.
“And not for yourself? I’m hurt.”
Stanley smiled back at him. “I guess I’ll have to use it for myself too then, just so that your feelings aren’t hurt.”
That was a step in a good direction. Mike threw a little more into the flirting. “Good. It’d be a shame if I find this cute guy and he wouldn’t call me on a professional courtesy.”
“Well, what is that phone number?” Mike told him the phone number, and read the paper Stnaley was writing on to make sure it was written down correctly. Mike pulled out his phone and opened a new contact page. When Stanley looked up from the notepad, Mike held out his phone to him.
“How will I know it’s the cute flower shop guy who’s calling me and not one of my clients?”
Stanley took the phone and began typing. “I guess I can give it to you then, just so you don’t get confused with one of your clients and not so you can text me later and ask me to hang out.”
Mike’s mood couldn’t be lifted any further than it is now. “Or something else?”
“Or something else,” Stanley agreed. He went back to the order forms and ripped one copy, the yellow copy, from the white copy. “These are your receipts.”
When Stanley held out the piece of paper for Mike to grab, mike made is so that their fingers brushed against each other. “Thank you for doing this, Stanley; it means a lot.”
“Stan,” Stanley, or Stan corrected. “or Stanley, if you prefer.”
“Okay, Stan. I think my break’s about to end soon, so I should probably be getting back before they fire me or something.” Mike pulled out his wallet and paid for his flowers after looking at the price on his receipt. After he finished and everything was finished up, Stan spoke up.
“I’ll be by. Before six, that’s what you said?”
“Yeah, thank you so much for this.”
Stan chuckled. “It’s my job to make bouquets, you don’t have to thank me.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have to thank you.” Mike glanced at his watch, then made sure to finish up before he was supposed to be back to work. “Now I really have to go, but I’ll see you later.”
“See you later.”
<hr>
It was almost quitting time. Mike was drawing some flashes and waiting for Stan to come by like he said he would. Every few minutes Mike would glance at the door that was the barrier between his room and what supposedly was the backroom to Stan’s flower shop.
Mike heard a quick knock knock on his door then heard the creak of the hinges. “Mikey? You gotta visitor!”
Mike looked up and then saw Stan behind Beverly. Stan stood there in the same uniform as before, except in his hands he held flower bouquets. Seeing Stan again made him smile- even though he only met the man that day and there wasn’t anything mind-blowing or earth shattering about their interaction that afternoon. “Thanks Bevvie.”
Beverly stood there and waited. Stan walked through the door, standing beside Beverly rather than behind her. Mike put his pencil down and faced them. With a little push towards his friend, he spoke.“You can leave now, Bev.”
“Maybe I want to stay and watch the show. Stanley wouldn’t mind, would you, Stanley?”
Mike stood up and stood facing Bev. He put his hand out and slightly pushed Bev back out of the doorway. He put a smile on his face and used his fingers to wave goodbye to her as he closed the door. Her face was priceless, as long as she knew him, she had never seen him with someone.
“Y’all best not be fucking when I check on you!” She shouted.
“Yeah, Bev’s not the kindest one in the bunch she’s cool.” Mike said, rubbing the skin on the back of his neck, a little embarrassed by his boss and good friend.
“Yeah, I know. I’m friends with her boyfriend.” Stan told him. He shot a questioning glance then shook it away. Mike had only met Bev’s boyfriend a few times, and they didn’t really talk. It was when he came by to eat lunch with Bev or the one day he got romantic and brought her a bouquet of flowers. She said he was like that all the time. “Oh, here are your flowers!”
Mike almost forgot that Stan was here to do his job and deliver flowers. “Oh yeah.”
Mike took the flowers from Stan’s hands and held them up and looked at them. They looked amazing; better than the last florist he went to when he still loved across town. “These look better than what you made in the shop. How do you do it?”
Stan smiled. “I thought we talked about that, I’m a flower wizard.”
“Oh right of course.”
Mike sat in his chair, which he rolled so that he was closer to Stan. Mike watched as Stan looked around the room, then later at the drawings he had around his desk.
“You did all those drawings? They’re amazing.” Stan stood up from his seat and stepped closer to look at the drawings. Objectively, Mike knew he was a good artist, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone into the profession of professional person who did mostly permanent art, but he still felt a little shy about people complimenting him on his artwork.
“Thanks,” Mike said. Before he backed out and lost the courage he thought he had, he opened up the conversation. “I actually wanted to ask you something?”
Stan turned away from the drawings and faced Mike. Mike looked at his face and he felt more nervousness bubble in his stomach.“Yeah, sure, ask away.”
Mike bit his lip, and began fidgeting with his hands, his index finger was scratching at his thumb. He was nervous because what if there was a rejection under their previous conversations. What if Stan didn't want the same things as him?
“Maybe, if you’re free and if you wanted to, you want to go see a movie with me? Maybe Friday night?”
Stan held a small smile. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mike?”
Mike’s stomach dropped in fear. Did Mike misread all the flirting they had that afternoon? Did Stan not like guys?Did Stan not want this? “Did I read this the wrong way or?”
“No,” Stan said quickly. ”No, just making sure. I want to go on a date with you. I think we’d have a fun time.”
Mike shoulders dropped and a smile spread across his face in the acceptance. “Okay, cool, yeah.”
Stan and Mike waited in the room in silence, a comfortable one. Mike was glad he met Stan, and was happy that Stan agreed to go on a date with him. Mike felt good, almost a better happy then the satisfied content he'd been feeling for a while.
“I should probably get going back to my store.” Stan spoke softly. Mike took a deep breath. He didn’t want Stan to leave so quickly, but then again, Mike had a lot of things to get done before the night was over. “I think maybe you should use my number when you figure out what movie we’re going to see.”
“Yeah, I definitely will.” Mike was already going through what he knew was playing at the theatre, what he thought would make a good date night movie, and one the thought Stan would like.
Stan reached his hand out and touched Mike’s shoulder. Mike could feel the fingers around his muscle and the contact set him on the edge of his seat. “I guess I’ll see you on Friday?”
Mike became a little bolder, “Not unless I visit tomorrow.”
Stan smirked. “The store’s usually slowest in the morning, just for future reference.”
A knock came at the door and Mike jumped at the sudden noise. Then he heard his sweet, dear friend (a friend whom he might kill later), Bev’s voice come through the door. “Boys! What’s going on in there?”
Stan walked closer to the door and put his hand on the door knob and let him turn the knob and open the door to Beverly who had her ear pressed to the door. When the door was away from her face, she slowly stood up straight. “Have you been standing here the whole time?”
“No,” Beverly stated, very quick with her response. she shrugged. “You think I’d waste my time eavesdropping on my dear, dear friends?”
“Yes,” Mike answered. “You definitely would.”
Stan walked past her and turned around to Mike. “You’ll text me later?”
Mike nodded his head with a smile and Beverly looked between them with her head turning back and forth like she was watching a tennis match. Stan laughed at her.
