Bouquet
Pairing: Parker Coppins (SP7) x Reader
Word Count: 2,712
Prompt: This was actually a commission from Kate! I think the best way to describe it would be, a fluffy florist AU, with a dash of mutual pining.
Warnings: None
You glance up from your phone as the bell on the shop door rings, quickly sliding the phone into your pocket as a group of guys walks in. You watch with a small laugh under your breath as they look around the shop for a moment, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of bouquets in the fairly small room.
“Is there anything I can help you find today?” you ask, and their attention suddenly snaps to you, slightly startled as though they just now noticed your presence.
“Yeah,” the taller one starts to reply, “is it okay if we film in here? We’ll buy something, promise, we just wanna shoot a scene for this, um, guess you could call it a short film?”
You raise an eyebrow, slightly thrown off guard by the strange request and the sight of the legitimate filming camera in one of their hands. “Er, yeah, I suppose that’s alright, as long as you don’t cause a commotion or anything.”
“We’ll try not to,” he says with a smile. “Actually, would you mind being on camera? Totally fine if you don’t want to, basically all we’d need is for you to recommend flowers to my buddy Parker over here,” one of the guys gives you a wave and small smile.
You let out an anxious laugh, “Sure, that’s fine, any specific recommendation or just the prettiest flowers?”
“Oh, actually, it’d be cool if we could do some foreshadowing with the flowers, so like, he’ll ask for a bouquet to use to admit his feelings to a friend; but, the friend is in a relationship, which both he and the audience knows, so if you could somehow pick a bouquet with flowers that work for that as well as foreshadowing a quote unquote ‘terrible fate’ for him, that’d be awesome.”
Your eyebrows furrow as you think. “Well, I know peonies symbolize bashfulness and compassion, but can also represent shame and, um, what’s the word… indignation? And yellow roses can symbolize jealousy, while blue flowers are symbolic for ‘the unattainable’,” your voice takes a slight dramatic twist there. “Does any of that sound right?”
“Could you do a bouquet of blue peonies? Are those even a thing?”
You laugh again, nodding your head. “Yeah, definitely. So, you just want me to do my normal florist thing and recommend a bouquet of blue peonies?”
“Yeah, and our style is pretty laidback anyways, so don’t worry about it too much.”
The filming itself goes by easily, though it does feel a bit odd to have a camera so close as you do your normal job. They actually do a close up of your hands arranging the bouquet as well, and you’re relieved your nails are done nicely and aren’t broken yet, as they seem to inevitably become. The guy you’re selling the flowers to, Parker?, is unbelievably adorable as he bashfully describes the bouquet he’s looking for, rubbing the back of his neck and even blushing as he talks. You figure he’s either a great actor, actually a nervous mess, or maybe a bit of both.
He pays you for the bouquet, and makes his way out of the shop as the camera follows him. The tall guy with the glasses mouths a ‘thank you’ as he and his other friend follow the cameraman out, and you give him a nod.
The shop feels oddly quiet with the group gone, and you return to your stool behind the counter, scrolling through Twitter once again as you wait for the next order to come in.
You’re surprised when, a little over a week later, you see the guy who ‘ordered’ a bouquet walk back through the door.
“Hey, can I help you find anything today?” you ask with a smile, which he hesitantly returns.
His voice is just as unsure as it was the last time you saw him when he answers, “Yeah, um, can I get a half dozen bouquet of carnations?” You can’t help but smile a bit more.
“Of course! Did you want a specific color? Or various colors?”
“Oh, uh, sorry yeah, pink ones if you have them?” He seems a bit restless, tense, and it’s both cute and a little worrying, tugging at your heartstrings as you find yourself wanting to comfort this boy you’ve barely met. You can’t help but wonder if it’s nerves about a date, since there’s no camera this time.
“Yeah, absolutely,” you walk around to the other side of the counter, fairly certain you already have a bouquet like that ready. “It’s Parker, right?” you ask, glancing back, and he gives you a quiet ‘yep’ with a smile. “So, is this for a special someone then? Or are there secret cameras somewhere?” you joke, but you can see him freeze, confused for a moment before letting out a nervous laugh.
“Nope, no cameras, at least as far as I know,” he jokes back, and you shoot him a smile.
“So there is a special someone?” you raise your eyebrows teasingly, and he lets out an awkward laugh.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
You give him another smile, surprised that you find yourself somewhat disappointed by the confirmation. “Well, pink carnations are a great choice for that, and, it just so happens…,” you trail off as you reach up to the top shelf, straining slightly as you pull the bouquet down, “...that we already have the perfect arrangement ready!”
You walk back to the register, and he follows suit, replying with a, “Great!” that doesn’t sound entirely genuine. It throws you off a bit, but you try not to pay it much mind.
Setting the bouquet down on the counter, you quickly enter the price into the register. “Alright! That’ll be $15 even!” you tell him, customer service voice and smile automatically in place. He raises an eyebrow, and for a moment you’re confused before it clicks, causing you to laugh under your breath. “Sorry, it’s habit at this point, I swear I’m not a robot.”
He sighs in exaggerated relief, and your smile only get bigger. “Okay, thank god, thought I might have to start the human revolution there for a sec,” he jokes, handing you a twenty as he speaks.
He’s such a dork, and yet, you can’t help but laugh at his dumb quip. “Don’t worry, the human race is safe for now.”
He chuckles under his breath as you hand him his change, “‘For now,’ are you planning something? Should I start preparing for doomsday?”
You raise an eyebrow, smirking as you reply, “I dunno, should you?”
He laughs again, picking up the bouquet off the counter. “Alright, well, thank you for the flowers, but like, please don’t blow up the Earth?”
“Hmm,” you feign deep thought, “I guess, but only because you asked so nicely. Besides, it wouldn’t be cool of me to ruin your date with an apocalypse, after you’ve already bought carnations and everything.”
He lets out another laugh, but it seems a bit forced, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I appreciate it, (Y/N).” You’re only confused for a moment before remembering your nametag, and he gives you an awkward wave as he heads for the door.
Again, your customer service side kicks in as you call out, “Have a nice day!”
And you can’t help but grin as he stumbles over the threshold to reply, “You too!” with another shy smile.
That special someone was definitely lucky.
Another week goes by before you see him again, and again, it’s a bit of a surprise. You don’t get many customers buying flowers back to back like that. “Hey there!” you greet him as he walks through the door, and he shoots you a smile. You remember his name, of course, but you worry that greeting him by name might be a bit strange. “Is there anything I can help you with today?
“Um, yeah, actually, I’m not sure what type of flowers I should get someone, I was wondering if you have any suggestions? If it’s not too much trouble or anything,” he rushes those last words rubbing the back of his neck and not quite not meeting your eyes.
You give him a warm smile as you reply, “Yeah, of course!” and he looks up at you with a matching smile. “I might be a bit biased, but I personally think the prettiest arrangement would be a bouquet of dahlias, snapdragons, and chrysanthemums, and we actually have one on display right now that you could take!” You gesture to the vase on the table behind him, and he glances over before turning back to you.
“Actually, I, uh, have a kind of weird request, could you, um, could you teach me how to arrange it?” You’re start to reply but, he quickly adds, “I totally understand if that’s not something you guys do though, I know it’s a weird thing to ask.”
“Well, I mean, I’ve never done that before, but I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” you tell him with a smile. “You must really like this person, wanting to make a bouquet for them and everything.”
He laughs, his hands fidgeting with the bottom his shirt. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
You look around for a moment; the shop is empty, and you know you’re the only one scheduled to come in today. “Okay, so, I’m technically not supposed to do this,” you stage whisper, “but go ahead and come around to the other side of the counter.”
He chuckles and walks around to you, and you start setting up, grabbing the specific blooms from the fridge behind you and placing them on the counter, along with some foliage. “Alright, so,” you start out, clapping your hands together, “I’m going to get the bouquet started first, and then I’ll walk you through the process, sound good?”
“Yep!” he replies enthusiastically, and you hold back a laugh. This might be the dorkiest, sweetest thing a customer’s ever asked for.
You pick out the focal flower and get started, carefully placing the first few choices before tying some raffia around them to make it easier to pass off. “So, what you’re gonna do is hold it around the binding point,” you place the bouquet in his hand, adjusting his fingers slightly, “and then you’re going to keep adding flowers to the bunch, rotating the bouquet between each flower you place, alright?”
“Sounds good,” he repeats your sentiment from earlier, picking up the next flower to add. You occasionally reach in and rotate his hand a bit more or less, handing him another piece of foliage from time to time, but he’s doing pretty well on his own. It doesn’t look completely professional, no, but it looks nice, and the thought behind it even nicer.
You also might like the way he starts to blush whenever you touch his hand, adjusting his placement even when it’s not entirely necessary. You know he’s making this bouquet for someone else, but it still makes you feel warm inside, and it’s nice.
He’s nice.
You make the occasional comment on his work, and he smiles over at you, either thanking you or making a self-deprecating comment in response, and they both make you grin. There’s a point where his grip accidentally loosens and the bouquet is ready to fall apart in his hand, but you’re quick to react, wrapping your hand around his.
“Sorry! Sorry,” he immediately tells you, and you can feel his grip tensing beneath yours.
“It’s alright!” you assure him with a laugh, “It is your first time arranging a bouquet after all, I know it’s easy to get sidetracked sometimes. Just gotta keep that hand in mind, it would suck if all that work fell apart.”
“Yeah, I can imagine,” he murmurs, his expression much more intensely focused as he continues, and you laugh again.
“Hey, don’t worry! I got you covered.”
He shoots you a very quick smile before returning his focus to the arrangement, carefully adding each following flower. It isn’t long before you have him look at the bouquet from the top, asking, “Do you like it?”
“I mean, I’m not the flower professional here, isn’t your opinion more important?”
“Well, I think it looks lovely, but, you are the one paying after all, so it’s more important that you’re satisfied with it,” you explain, and he grins at your comment.
“If you really think it’s ‘lovely,’ then I’d say it’s perfect.”
You smile up at him, and this time you’re the one blushing, causing you to quickly look away and cut off another strand of raffia. “Alright, then I’ll go ahead and tie it off for you!” You weren’t gonna try to have him tie the bouquet himself, since tying a knot with one hand was definitely an acquired skill, but he doesn’t seem to mind you doing that part for him.
“So, that’s it then?” he asks, handing you the bouquet. You reply with a smile and a ‘yep!’ and he adds, “How much do I owe you?”
“Well,” you tell him, again in a stage whisper, making exaggerated glances around the shop, “since you kind of covered labor costs, I think I can get away with just charging you for the flowers themselves.”
His forehead creases as he looks at you. “Are you sure? I mean, I feel like you definitely still did most of the work, I’d hate to—“
“Don’t worry, I got you covered,” you say again with a smile, and he returns it, though he’s suddenly shyer again.
You pull up the total on the register, and before you even read it he hands enough money to cover the total. It takes you slightly off guard, and he immediately apologizes. “Sorry! I’m sorry, I’m just, uh, a little restless I guess.”
“Hey, it’s alright!” you assure him, taking the money and organizing his change. “We all have those days, I get it.”
Handing him is change, you pick up the bouquet and place it in his other hand. “Besides, making a bouquet for someone? I can definitely understand why that would be nerve-wracking.”
With an awkward laugh, he puts his change in his pocket, murmuring, “Actually, about that…,” With a deep breath, he looks back up at you. “Would you maybe wanna go out sometime?” He’s holding the bouquet out to you, a hesitant smile pulling at the corners of his lips, and for a moment, you’re frozen.
Before he can try to backpedal, however, you quickly answer, “Parker, I’d love that.” You’re not sure who’s blushing more at this point, or whose smile is brighter, as you take the bouquet back. Looking at the flowers in your hands, you giggle quietly. “You know, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me… but is it bad that I’m kind of glad you did?”
“I didn’t think you deserved any less,” he replies, his voice so earnest you could cry. Before you can say anything else, he starts speeding through his next words, “But then like, I didn’t want to give you flowers that you’d made yourself, you know? That felt kind of, well, weird to do, so then I figured I might as well ask? Hopefully the ‘craftsmanship’ isn’t too bad, I know you’re used to seeing and making professional flowers all the time— I should shut up, shouldn’t I?”
You shake your head, still smiling as you tell him, “Trust me, the flowers are perfect, and I like hearing you talk. I close shop at 5, would you wanna meet at the Italian place down the street?”
His eyes go wide at that, and for a second you worry. “Wait, sorry, I just realized that you probably meant a date like, on another day, that’s my bad, you probably have plans…”
He shakes his head with a warm smile and you trail off. “I could do 5:30?”
You nod, the three hours until then already seeming too long. “I’ll see you then.”
“Have a nice day, (Y/N)!” he says as he walks toward the door, his voice just as fake as your customer service voice from the other day, and you laugh through your reply.
“You too!”