Get well soon, my beloved @scyllas-revenge...I love you tons and tons and @laurfilijames, my dear friend has tagged me in @fellowshipofthefics' roulette...so...here is what I've gotten...
It was a pleasure to write this! I hope you'll like it...Love you <3
Words: 1,3k
Warnings: Curses, illness, crack
Characters: Boromir x OC (she's not that O though...she's very real)
Dree sniffled and groaned; it was just her luck to be ill on the one day she was alone in the flower shop of her aunt.
The old dear had booked a holiday with her friends and her reliable favourite niece had promised that she’d take care of business during her absence.
Usually, there was another employee, but they had been abducted – very romantically – by their scatter-brained boyfriend for the day; as Dree could only commend him for remembering the exact date of his beloved’s last exam, she had also agreed to let her colleague slip away without telling her aunt.
Unfortunately, it was particularly disastrous to have a runny nose in a room full of fragrant plants and flowers and so Dree was discarding yet another handkerchief while battling a pernicious headache on top of everything.
She was truly thankful that it was a quiet day, and that people apparently had no need of nice bouquets and prim flower arrangements; truth be told, she was not sure that she would be able to hold a vase, let alone use scissors.
A quick glance at the clock told her that she had almost made it to the end of the workday though, and she heaved a relieved sigh; maybe, she reflected slyly, she could close shop a little earlier and go sit on the couch with a mug of tea and a nice romantic movie to relax and recover.
“Another five minutes,” she told herself and started tidying up as much as the waves of dizziness – coming and going at random intervals – allowed.
Just as she was about to crawl to the door and flip the archaic sign to the side that said “closed” in stylised writing, a man burst in as if chased by hellhounds.
His hair was dark with moisture and his eyes were alluringly bright; all in all, he seemed prodigiously handsome as he stood there, all broad shoulders and smouldering gaze, and Dree patted her throbbing head as if to check that it had not fallen off from sheer shock.
“Oh thank Béma, you’re still open. This is the third shop I’ve tried,” he groaned.
Dree was about to dreamily admit that he had a nice, full, melodious voice when her gaze fell onto the street behind him.
“Fuck,” she cursed, “it’s raining!”
The man gave her a confused look and waved his hand at his dripping coat expressively. “Indeed, Miss. I think it has almost stopped now though.”
When she merely scowled at the window, he launched himself into a convoluted explanation, detailing how he was invited to his brother’s house and had forgotten to buy flowers for the Lady of the household.
Dree forced her bleary eyes to return to his charming complexion – was she running a fever or was he the most ruggedly handsome man she had seen in this town in a long time? – and to at least somewhat listen to him.
A silly smile, no doubt a side-effect of the drugs she had purchased and gobbled down in her lunchbreak, spread across her achingly tight, hot face as she watched him wave his hands in exasperation.
“It would not do to offend Éowyn,” he finished with an impressive display of puppy eyes. “I am so happy Faramir found a girl at all; I won’t ruin this for him.”
“What looking for it is you are?” Dree asked in her most professional tone and grimaced as she heard the garbled sentence come out of her mouth; unlike his melting baritone, she sounded – according to her own humble assessment – like a goose on crack.
“Flowers,” he replied sheepishly.
“No shit Sherlock,” she honked, coughing violently and swaying – karma really was a bitch – and waved her arms in a very convincing imitation of that infamous bird she was apparently impersonating. “Have your prick…pick, I mean. Half price.”
“Lady, you’re not looking too good there…” the man cried out and plunged forward to steady her when another coughing fit almost threw her off balance.
“You really are astute,” she groaned. “Béma’s ass on a donkey, I am sorry. I am not usually such a mess.”
The smile he gave her was warm and comforting and, before she could completely take leave of her senses and tell him that he smelled nicer than all the flowers in the world, he had lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the small stool behind the cash register.
“I’ll take that one,” the man said, nodding at a purely decorative piece that stood on the counter.
“That is a cactus,” Dree commented dryly, wiping her nose discreetly and touching the back of her hand to her forehead to make sure that she was not having fever dreams yet.
“My sister-in-law is a prickly woman,” he chuckled good-humouredly, “and – by all accounts – not a terrific gardener either. She’ll be happy with something resilient.”
Humming distractedly, Dree nodded. “Can h’ve ‘t for free. Don’t care,” she mumbled vaguely.
Somehow, sitting made her feel worse and she cursed herself under her breath for having left her water bottle in the back room because it stayed colder there.
Another potential customer approached the door, but the man strode over with authoritative steps and flung the sign around with a truly awe-inspiring flick of his thick, strong wrist before rushing back to Dree’s side.
“I cannot accept such a gracious offer,” the man said kindly. “I’m Boromir by the way, worst brother-in-law in the whole wide world.”
“Dree,” she answered just a smidgen too late. “Potty-mouthed quasi-corpse.”
“It’s an honour, I am sure,” he grinned and extended his hand to her. “How about I help you lock up and escort you home in exchange for the truly wonderful cactus.”
Too weak and dazed to object, Dree let him pull her to her feet.
She couldn’t help but be awed by the military precision and efficiency of his movements and actions as she directed him, leaning heavily on the counter. Within a few short minutes, he had set the shop to rights, brought in the display from outside and helped her into her own stifling coat.
As she dropped the keys into his steady, broad palm, Dree wondered for a second how it would feel to have those hands rub soothing circles across her sore back; shaking her head reluctantly, she immediately discarded that ludicrous thought again.
Evidently, the illness she had mistaken for a common cold was rapidly eating up her brain.
“Take those as well,” she mumbled and pointed at a nice bouquet of colourful, cheery flowers that would otherwise be thrown away. “Women love those!”
“Good to know.” Boromir smirked and grabbed her gently by the elbow to steer her out of the shop.
“Do you live alone?” he asked and laughed when she shot him a shrewd look. “I didn’t mean to sound so ominous and creepy; I am just worried about your well-being.”
“Once I sit on my couch, I’ll be okay,” she murmured and nodded at an apartment complex down the road they had just entered. “This is me. Thanks for escorting me home, Boromir, and good luck with your dinner.”
Tucking his cactus under one arm, Boromir brandished the gifted bouquet and handed it to Dree with a small bow.
“May I look in on you later?” he asked in a low, trembling voice. “Just to make sure you haven’t fallen and cracked your head open?”
“Eh, if you find me,” she croaked and waddled away with as much grace as she could summon in her enfeebled state.
“Bet on it,” he called after her, “I’ll just follow the string of colourful curses!”
Too tired for words, Dree simply flipped him off but the smile on her face told him that she might – in truth – enjoy seeing him again.
New year, old me...As ever...I am delighted to write stupid shit for other people!
Super sorry for any confusion I reuploaded my art to my primary blog and deleted my secondary, so if it looks like I stole art from another account that was me
you can find all my art under the #ILL ART
I am a mutifandom artist but you can primarily find me drawing Sonic, One Piece, Trigun, Bleach etc
I will tag oc art under #ILL OC or #my oc etc
Commissioned art will be tagged under #ILL Corpses Comms
