I present to you— my proof.
If you’re willing to write, maybe more flustered avery?
Avery doesn’t notice it at first.
D3r is quiet when he comes back from being out, armor dusty, cloak half-unfastened, movements careful like he’s carrying something fragile. Avery’s halfway through explaining a half-baked idea about expanding the base storage when D3r clears his throat—soft, almost shy—and holds something out between his gauntlets.
Blue orchids.
Not a whole bouquet. Just a few, stems neatly trimmed, petals impossibly vivid against the gold of D3r’s armor. They look unreal out here, like they belong in a storybook or a greenhouse Avery’s only ever seen in pictures.
“I—” D3r starts, then stops. Tries again. “I saw them near the swamp. They reminded me of you.”
That’s it. That’s all it takes.
Avery’s brain fully short-circuits.
His core flares bright without permission, a wash of light that betrays him instantly. Heat floods his face, ears, everywhere, and he forgets how words work. He just stands there, staring, hands hovering uselessly in the air like he’s afraid the flowers might vanish if he touches them.
“D3r,” he manages weakly, voice cracking, “you can’t just—do that.”
D3r tilts his helmet, clearly confused. “Bring you flowers?”
“Yes!” Avery squeaks, then clamps both hands over his mouth in horror. His core pulses brighter. Traitor.
D3r goes very still. Then, slowly, carefully, he lowers the orchids into Avery’s hands. His thumb brushes Avery’s fingers by accident, and Avery might actually combust.
“Oh,” D3r murmurs, something warm and unmistakably fond in his voice. “I think I understand now.”
Avery hides his face behind the flowers, absolutely doomed, glowing like a lantern and smiling so hard it hurts.
