Mr. Ackles' Flower Shop - Part 2

[bad_peppermint]

Part 1

Every once in a while, Jensen found himself confronted with visitors who’d only come in on someone else’s behest. It didn’t happen very often - his shop was a little too obscure for anyone but the truly passionate - but it did happen, and when the short man with the top hat perched on his stringy hair appeared in his doorway one afternoon, that was what Jensen pegged him for.

“Hello,” the man said. He cleared his throat and shuffled forward, stepping carefully around the swooning protea that had sprawled out in the entryway. “Um.”

“Hello there,” Jensen said. “Welcome to the shop. Are you looking for anything in particular, or just having a look around?”

“Well,” the man said. He took another step closer, twisting his fingers in the chain of his timepiece. “Um. You’ve got a flower lying on the ground, here.”

“Ignore her,” Jensen said. “She just does it for the attention, most days.”

“Um. Okay.” His customer shuffled a little closer to the counter. He had an oddly pointed nose and an entire mouth full of sharp teeth that he bared at Jensen in what Jensen assumed was intended as a friendly gesture.

Just in case it was, Jensen smiled back. “What can I help you with?”

The man instantly turned a startlingly bright red. “Well,” he stammered. “Uh. There’s this girl.”

Jensen kept from assuring him that there was always a girl, or perhaps a guy, or perhaps something in-between. In Jensen’s experience, people tended not to like being reminded that they weren’t particularly special. And in all honesty, he thought that people who went through the trouble of picking up flowers from an actual flower shop for a date were just special enough that he wanted them reassured, not thrown out of balance by a lonely flower shop owner who was already half-way in love with a taken man.

“Alright,” Jensen said. He gave his customer a reassuring smile. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about her?”

“Okay,” the man said. “So, I took her out, I guess, but I guess it’s not cool to bring people bouquets. Like, that’s murder.” He rubbed his hands together, fingers splayed as wide as they would go. “She got pretty angry with me.”

Lindsey, Jensen thought, smiling a little, which made the man in front of him Gerard, the failed date from not so long ago.

“But she still wants to meet you a second time?” Jensen asked gently, lifting the dracaena’s wide leaves out of the way so he could squeeze out from behind the counter. “You must have worked some serious magic.”

“I begged a lot,” Gerard said, and turned bright red.

“That’ll do it,” Jensen said, even if he hadn’t been positive that it actually would, with Lindsey.

He turned to walk into the shop, beckoning Gerard along, and the man shuffled awkwardly after him.

“I just - isn’t it awkward to bring someone an entire plant on a date? Like, with the roots and dirt and everything?”

“Well,” Jensen said, and licked his lips. “To Lindsey,“ and here, Gerard blushed furiously once more, “bringing just the stem of a flower is the equivalent of bringing her someone’s leg or an arrangement of fingers. They might be lovely fingers, don’t get me wrong, but wouldn’t you prefer the whole person?”

“I’d rather not bring a whole ‘nother person on our date,” Gerard muttered. Then his eyes widened. “I mean - I get it. Whole flower. Not single pieces. Not so macabre.”

“You never know, she could be into that,” Jensen said before he could stop himself. Apparently it was now his time to blush. “But I don’t want to know about that. That is completely between you two. Or three, or whatever.”

“Right,” Gerard said.

“Let’s take a look at our collection,” Jensen offered, and Gerard nodded vigorously.

“Let’s,” he said, and Jensen pretended not to notice the relief spreading over the man’s face.

They made it exactly as far as the display of crimson felicitas by the door when Gerard stopped for the first time. “What are they?” he asked.

“There are our best-selling plants,” Jensen said. “They release pheromones to allow their owners to relax. Quite popular.” When Gerard’s eyes lit up, Jensen shook his head. “Lindsey already has one of these.”

“Her apartment must be a veritable jungle,” Gerard muttered.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jensen, who had never been to Lindsey’s apartment, said neutrally.

Gerard let his hand sweep over the plants in the flower bed, and Jensen just barely managed to pull the stinging pepper out of the way before his guest managed to give himself first degree burns.

“Do you think it would be too forward of me to ask to see it?” Gerard asked hopefully.

Jensen blinked at him for a moment before he nodded, slowly. “Wait until she offers,” he said. “She might misconstrue the question.”

Gerard took a moment to think about that before he nodded. “Yes,” he conceded. “Yes, you’re right. I wouldn’t want to impose.” He wandered a little further, hesitating over a white perennial. “I like this one,” he said, reaching out to run a finger over the blossom.

“The lovers’ vow”, Jensen said. “Once it’s imprinted on two owners, it needs to be watered by both at the same time, or it’ll die. Very common as a wedding gift,” he said. “And the bane of divorced couples everywhere.”

“I’m not going to divorce her,” Gerard said, still fingering the plant, but Jensen shook his head firmly.

“At least wait until the third date,” he advised.

Gerard’s face fell, which Jensen took as his cue to point out the flower he had actually been intending to show him.

“This is a Darwin tulip,” he said, holding it up to the light. It had just a single stem, with a single blossom. In fact, the only outwardly remarkable thing about it was the fact that its roots were a fine net spanning the top of the soil in the pot, rather than sinking into the ground.

“It just looks like a regular one,” Gerard said slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he was confused or disappointed.

“It isn’t,” Jensen assured him. “It may look like one, but when you tug on it, like so,” Jensen said, demonstrating, “the roots straighten and stiffen.” He held the flower out to Gerard who, frowning, reached out his hand and hesitated just shy of touching it.

“As you can see,” Jensen said, “it’s virtually indistinguishable from an actual cut flower, the roots locking into position to look like a natural extension of the stem. And when they touch soil again…” He returned the flower to its pot, watching fondly as the roots unraveled and spread a wide net across the earth inside.

A moment later, Gerard’s head was at his shoulder, peering wide-eyed at the pot. “That’s amazing,” he said.

“Flowers adapt to changing times, just like animals do. Like people.” Jensen smiled. “Do you think this flower could work for you?”

“Definitely,” Gerard said. He hesitated. “I mean - you think so too, right?”

“I think it’s worth a try,” Jensen said.

“Okay,” Gerard said. He sucked in a deep breath before releasing it all at once. “Okay, I’ll take it.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jensen said, and carried the flower, sans pot, over to the counter to wrap it up.

Gerard followed, keeping the watchful eyes of a newly minted owner on the tulip.

“Make her promise to let you explain before you give her the flower,” Jensen told him, tucking the newspaper around the stem with care. “She might murder you with it otherwise.”

Gerard rubbed the heel of his hand against his sternum. “I do hope she won’t,” he said. “That might end the date on a sour note.” He looked up at that, and grinned, and Jensen found himself smiling back before he could help himself.

He held out the flower for Gerard to take. “Here you are.”

Gerard took it gingerly, and then dug one hand into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills that he dumped in Jensen’s hands. It was, from what Jensen could see, at least three times as much as the flower actually cost, and he shook his head, but Gerard was already on his way out the door.

“Make her promise!” Jensen called after him.

He didn’t catch all of Gerard’s response, but the tail end sounded vaguely like “…thank you,” so Jensen marked it down mentally as a success before he rushed over to forcefully close the door behind him.

~

Jensen couldn’t deny a certain sense of elation after Gerard had left. Yes, the man had committed a serious faux-pas, but at least he had meant well. And Jensen still remembered Lindsey’s expression when she’d come into the shop after Gerard had asked her out for the first time - the thrill in her eyes, how pleased she’d been. She’d been happy then, and she deserved to be happy, and if that happiness lay with Gerard, then Jensen wholeheartedly wished them all the best.

His good mood carried him through the rest of the day, and into the next. Jensen caught himself whistling some tuneless melody time and time again, and although the shop was empty, he flushed and stopped himself every time. And yet the song didn’t quite die on his lips until he looked up just past midday to see a familiar figure standing in his shop.

For all that they were in the same business, and their respective shops were located not far from each other, Jensen had not interacted with Mark very much. There was just something about the other man that set Jensen’s teeth on edge, something that wasn’t mere professional rivalry and extended beyond Mark’s insistence on unethical flower trade, and Jensen had always attempted to avoid the other man as much as possible. An effort made useless, of course, when Mark came to seek Jensen out in his own shop.

Jensen hadn’t even seem him coming through the greenhouse windows, preoccupied with taking a customer’s order over the telephone mounted on the wall, and was so understandably caught off-guard when he looked up from his notepad at the jingle of the bell to find Mark standing in the doorway of his shop.

“…I’ll be in on Thursday, then,” the customer said, and Jensen replied, “Yes, thank you,” to the dial tone and hung up the receiver, eyes never straying from Mark. He didn’t quite know the man well enough to judge his character, merely his ethics, but he had to admit that he certainly looked the part of a somewhat-successful business owner. He tended to dress impeccably, if a little blandly, in suits with waistcoats and bowties and the occasional fedora thrown in on special occasions. Today rated, apparently, because there was a grey hat perched on his head at a jaunty angle, the cream-colored band matched with his vest and the buttons of his coat.

He stood in the door for a moment, letting his gaze wander over everything - everything except Jensen. After a moment, a small smile stole onto his lips.

Jensen fought to keep the scowl off his face. “Excuse me,” he said, perhaps a little colder than strictly necessary. “Could you shut the door, please? I’d prefer it if my plants remained inside.”

“Oh, of course.” Mark tossed a casual smile Jensen’s way. “My mistake.” He made a show of laboriously closing the door. “Is that better?” he asked. “Jensen?”

“Very much, thank you,” Jensen grit out.

Mark took a step closer. “How are you, Jensen? We haven’t crossed paths in a while.”

‘Thank Goodness for that,’ Jensen was tempted to say, but he refused to sink that low. He was a professional, and he was going to be professional if it was the last thing he did.

“So it has,” he finally settled on. “To what do I owe the pleasure now?” He tugged a rag from his belt and wiped his hands on it, because he’d be damned if he’d let the man outclass him in Jensen’s own shop.

Mark shook his head, smiling faintly. “Your lips say one thing, and your tone another,” he accused.

Jensen tossed his rag onto the counter. “I’m sure you can figure out which is the more accurate,” he said.

“I don’t understand why you’re so determined not to like me, Jensen.” Mark spread his arms wide. “Am I not a likeable guy?”

“You murder plants,” Jensen said tightly. “You murder them for a little bit of profit, and you somehow expect me to do the same, and I will never, never work with someone so unethical.”

“This is about the bouquets?” Mark asked. “Because really, Jensen, you have to go with the times a little. People want dead plants, we give them dead plants.” He waved a dismissive hand at the greenhouse’s windows. “This shop, right here, is a relic, Jensen, and it’ll die out if you don’t learn to adjust to your customers’ needs.”

“You say that like you actually care about your customers,” Jensen said. “But you don’t. You don’t care about them, and you certainly don’t care about your plants.”

“I don’t, do I?” Mark tapped a finger against his chin. “And what do I care about, Jensen? Please, enlighten me.”

“You care about money,” Jensen told him. Anger was making his voice shake, and he gripped the counter hard to distract himself from it. “So far, you’ve suggested to me to artificially shorten the lifespan of my plants just so you can sell a couple more of them, to starve my plants of water and nutrients to save money, and what now? Are you still trying to convince me to heighten the amount of pheromones the felicitas releases?”

Mark shrugged casually. “I really don’t know why you’re so against it,” he said easily.

“Because it’s dangerous,” Jensen burst out. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Because we’d be endangering our customers for a marginal profit.”

Mark smiled, a disquietingly honest smile. “Is that so bad?” he asked. “We’re not forcing anyone to buy more. If they do, it means our product was satisfactory. They’re happy, we’re not starving ourselves to keep our shops open another few days, so we’re happy, and it’s not like the plants themselves know any better.”

“That is not the point,” Jensen said through gritted teeth.

“Making yourself miserable just to satisfy a few customers isn’t the point either,” Mark said quietly. “Customers who neither realize the gem they’ve found in you, nor would fully appreciate your genius if they ever did.”

He smiled, a little sadly, and touched his fingers to Jensen’s wrist. Jensen could feel the warmth soak into his skin like poison, seep along his veins and settle small, frail roots in his mind, whispering Is he so wrong?

Jensen pulled his hand away. “I’d appreciate it if you left now,” he said quietly. He balled his hands into fists and didn’t look up again until he heard the bell above the door signal Mark’s departure.

~

It was without a doubt a relief when, a few hours later, two customers came ambling into the shop to take Jensen’s mind off the incident. One of them, the shorter, dark-haired one, was dressed in bright colors and obnoxiously mixed patterns like a child, and he seemed sorely tempted to touch every plant in sight. Jensen suspected he liked colorful, dramatic plants. Maybe this was someone who’d provide the right sort of home for Jensen’s swooning protea.

The customer was followed by another man, one almost as short and decidedly better dressed. He had a pair of drum sticks protruding from the pocket of his coat, where a handkerchief should have been, and the sight made Jensen smile. This man was most likely a candidate for Jensen’s telegraph plants, once they grew a little bigger. Jensen could see them getting along.

“Pete,” the second man sighed. “Pete, please?”

The first, Pete, held up a silencing hand. “There’s no use arguing, Patrick,” he said. “This is happening.”

Patrick flushed furiously, huffing out a breath and looking ready to read Pete the riot act, so Jensen smiled his most welcoming smile.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

Pete leaned up against the counter, hands shielding his chest from the pressure. “I heard you have lovers’ vow in stock, is that true?”

“Yes, that’s true,” Jensen said slowly.

Pete grinned, broad and happy. Jensen had to admit it was a good look for him, transforming him from a slightly disheveled, slightly overdramatic man into someone decidedly handsome. “We’ll take it,” he said. “Patrick and I, we’ll take it.”

“He has a wife,” Patrick told Jensen helplessly.

Jensen bowed his head to hide his smile. “I’ll just go and get that for you, shall I?” he said, and pretended not to see the way Patrick sighed, or the way Pete grinned in delight.

~

He didn’t remember about the mail until sometime mid-afternoon when he went to tidy the counter and found the stack of sealed envelopes still sitting on top of it. Jensen went to sit on his stool with some trepidation, but for once, it weren’t the bills that made him so reluctant.

Instead, it was a cream-colored envelope, made out to one Mister Jensen Ackles with no return address, but the number of people who would send Jensen elegant letters on expensive paper was limited. Jensen had a fairly good idea who it was from, and he’d been dreading opening it ever since he had taken it out of the letterbox that morning.

But there was no helping it, was there? He slid his thumb underneath the flap and slid it open slowly. The card inside, just as expensive looking, with white and cream decorations, read Invitation. Jensen tilted it from side to side for a moment before he took a deep breath and flipped it open.

He came as far as Dear Jensen, you are cordially before the bell above the door rang out, clear and sharp.

“Hi Jensen,” Jared said cheerfully. He closed the door firmly before he bounded over to the counter. “Ooh, you got mail,” he said, smiling wide.

Under other circumstances, Jensen might have felt himself responding in kind, but today, all he did was shake his head. “It’s not a particularly joyous occasion,” he said.

Jared’s expression immediately turned sympathetic. “Bad news?”

Jensen’s lips did curl into a wry smile at that. “In a manner of speaking,” he said. “It’s nothing horrible, not really,” he hastened to assure Jared, when the other man looked anything but at ease.

“If you say so,” he said. He bit his lip, craning his head like he didn’t want to pry but also couldn’t quite contain his curiosity. “Who is it from?”

“My cousin,” Jensen said. “Or rather, my aunt, on behalf of my cousin.”

“How mysterious,” Jared said. He waggled his eyebrows. “Well, what’s it say?”

“My cousin,” Jensen said slowly, “is getting married, apparently.”

Jared pursed his lips. “And you’re invited?”

Jensen folded up the invitation, scraping one thumbnail along the edge. He was going to have to clean his nails - he’d long since given up on ever removing the half-moons of dirt underneath them, but he supposed that was bad form, for a wedding. “Not only that.” He offered Jared a wan smile. “Not only that, they’d also love it if I did the flower arrangements, and the bride’s bouquet, and provide the flowers to go into the flower girls’ hair, and their baskets.” He waved a vague hand. “They’d pay me, of course. For my generous contribution.”

“They want you to provide bouquets?” Jared raised his brows. “To go in vases?”

Jensen nodded.

“That’s terrible,” Jared said.

“They mean well.” Jensen pushed the letter underneath his battered copy of Pollination and Floral Ecology. “They think they’re doing me a favor.”

Jared pursed his lips. “They must not know you at all.”

Jensen laughed quietly. “No, I don’t suppose they do.”

“That’s a shame,” Jared said carefully. “I’ve quite enjoyed getting to know you so far.”

Jensen smiled wryly. “I expect they don’t see it that way.”

Jared looked down at his hands. “Is all of your family like that?” he asked hesitantly, like he was afraid of crossing some invisible line.

Jensen slid off his stool with determination. “You don’t want to hear about all that,” he said firmly. “You’re here for a reason. Another date, I take it?”

“Well.” Jared laughed awkwardly. “Not just yet. I just figured I’d take a look around, so I’ll know what to bring next time.”

“I could-" Jensen began, but Jared waved him off.

“You read,” he said. “I’m just going to go say hello to the dracaena for now.”

“Alright,” Jensen said reluctantly. He sat back down. “But please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

“Will do,” Jared said firmly. “Sit.”

Jensen sat, pulling the abandoned stack of mail towards him once more. He fought hard to keep from watching Jared walk away, even though he listened keenly to the sound of Jared’s heels against the tile. It wasn’t until he heard Jared speaking softly, too softly to be understood, that he tore open the first of the bills.

There weren’t any unpleasant surprises, thankfully, but no particularly pleasant ones either, so Jensen took out his ledger and a slip of notepaper and set about trying to figure out if he could pay them all this month without bankrupting himself. It wasn’t anything he particularly enjoyed doing, so he was almost relieved when he heard Jared’s voice again.

“Um, Jensen?” came the hesitant call from somewhere within the labyrinth of plants. “Could you come here for a moment?”

Jensen obeyed, mind reeling with possibilities of what had drawn Jared’s attention. He found Jared standing, apparently frozen, in front of one of the less popular plants that sat against the back wall, a short, squat tree of a reddish-black color. It had thick, purpling leaves and blossoms that bloomed red, and an open gash across its middle where the thinner, blue-green leeching ivy had taken up residence.

“I think your vine-y plant is eating your fat plant,” Jared said, caught somewhere between helpless and horrified.

It was, in fact - the ivy had several long tendrils extended into the tree’s innards, raising the bark in thick strands, much like a tree’s roots distorting a covering of asphalt. They were coming close to the last stage of the cycle, and the thick hornbeam certainly looked the part, leaves hanging discolored and fragile from its branches.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Jensen couldn’t help but smile at Jared’s incredulous expression. “They do that. It’s the best way to keep them, actually - they’re both symbiotic, and they each thrive on the nutrients the other plant produces.”

“They… live off each other?” Jared asked faintly.

Jensen smiled again and, after a moment’s hesitation, reached up to squeeze Jared’s arm. “Perfectly,” he said. “If they didn’t need water to survive, they would be a perfect perpetuum mobile.”

“But-“ Jared waved a hand at the hornbeam’s yellowing leaves. “I mean, you’re the expert, but that doesn’t look very healthy to me.”

“Well, it’s dying,” Jensen said.

“You said they keep each other alive!” Jared protested.

“They do.” Jensen reached out to run his fingers over the hornbeam’s rough bark. “It’s a constant circle, you know. The ivy will leech off the hornbeam’s nutrients, becoming stronger and stronger until the hornbeam is almost dead, and then it will grow weaker again, allowing the hornbeam to become the dominant partner.” He smiled at Jared. “I’ve kept them like this for, oh, four years now. Trust me, the system works.”

“Well.” Jared laughed, but he sounded somewhat flustered. “It’s still kind of terrible.”

“Sometimes you just have to let nature take its course,” Jensen said, and then winced at how pretentious he sounded.

Jared, though, Jared just laughed. “I suppose so,” he said. “You are the expert, after all.”

“Self-taught expert,” Jensen corrected, unable to completely bite down a smile.

“Whatever,” Jared said, waving him away. “That just makes it even better. I can’t even imagine what that must be like, just looking at a plant and knowing everything about it. That’s just - that’s amazing, Jensen, is what it is.”

He caught himself and grinned a little sheepishly, spots of color appearing high on his cheeks. “I probably sound like a dork, huh?”

“Me?” Jensen gestured, a sweeping arc that encompassed the leafy jungle of his shop. “I would be hard-pressed to call anyone a dork when it comes to plants, Jared.”

“You’re pretty cool, for a dork.” Jared smiled a little nervously, but he didn’t take it back. Instead, he reached out to lightly rest his hand above Jensen’s elbow, nothing more than a touch, his fingers crinkling the fabric there.

“Thank you,” Jensen said. He couldn’t think of anything else to say in reply, and the feeling of Jared’s fingers on his shirt proved to be far more distracting than he’d expect.

“Alright, then.” Jared ducked his head, but Jensen could still see him smile.

~

On Wednesday, a gentleman swept into his shop wearing an elegant coat of shimmering blues and greens, expertly matched with his boots, the feather in his hatband, and the colored streaks in his dark hair. He looked around with an uncertainty that didn’t fit with his confident appearance, as if questioning what on Earth had possessed him to enter a shop that consisted almost entirely of moisture and dirt. Jensen had to admit that he was wondering, himself. But then the gentleman caught sight of him and smiled brilliantly, and Jensen liked him immediately.

“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked. Extravagant, he thought, mentally tallying which plants he had available. Here was a man who enjoyed attention, though not in an unpleasant way - he was comfortable in his skin and he was fully prepared to prove it to the world. He clearly had no issues with Jensen's scrutiny, either, because rather than scowl or look away, he held out a solid hand.

"Adam," he said. "Are you Mr. Ackles?"

"That's me," Jensen confirmed. "Jensen."

"It's a pleasure, Jensen," Adam assured him. "A friend recommended this shop to me. She assured me I'd find something amazing."

There was a light challenge in his tone, but not an unpleasant one, and Jensen gladly took him up on it.

"My customers are rarely disappointed," he said, smiling a little. "What kind of plant are you looking for? Something decorative, or something for the garden? Perhaps a gift?"

"Something decorative, I think," Adam said. "My boyfriend insists my apartment is woefully bare, and I'm afraid he might be right."

"Well, that will never do," Jensen said. He smiled. “And I think I have something that you might like.”

He let Adam wait by the counter - no use in inviting disaster by letting loose his plants with that coat - while he went to fetch the camouflage trillium. It had taken on a leafy green shade, echoing the plants around her, but quickly took on a darker color when Jensen lifted her against his black vest.

“Here you are,” Jensen said cheerfully, pushing the plant into Adam’s arms.

“What does-?” Adam began, but then the flower began to change color, leaves taking on a startlingly turquoise hue to match his clothing, and Adam’s confused expression softened. “Oh,” he said. His hands, Jensen noted, shifted to cradle the plant more safely against his chest.

Love at first sight, Jensen mused, and then found his thoughts wandering to Jared, to his eyes and his laugh and the way his big hands were so infinitely careful with Jensen’s plants.

“She’s beautiful,” Adam said, awed, and Jensen laughed.

“She’s yours if you want her.”

“Name your price,” Adam said immediately.

Jensen reached over to tap the price tag stuck into the pot’s soil base. “I’ll wrap her up for you, if you’d like,” he said.

“Please,” Adam said, so Jensen did, and exchanged the trillium for the bill Adam handed to him.

“I’ll just get you your change, sir,” he said.

“Keep it,” Adam said, smile sweet. “This place is a treasure, Jensen.”

He turned with an elegant flourish before Jensen could protest any further. He paused on the threshold, and tipped his hat, and Jensen had to admit to a charmed smile even as he hurried to close the door in his wake.

~

Perhaps it was Adam’s visit, or perhaps it was something else, but things came a little more easily after that. Business picked up a little - Jensen suspected it was the first signs of summer that had people breezing in, demanding the most colorful plants he had to offer. But even if they hadn’t, even if the shop had been as dead as before, the lack of bad news was enough to keep Jensen satisfied. He found himself smiling more easily, more frequently, and receiving more smiles in return.

And then the skittering vine went missing. Jensen usually let his mobile plants roam freely around the shop, but the creeping parvifolium’s near constant bids for freedom necessitated semi-regular checks, just to make certain it was still lying in wait underneath the display table by the door.

Instead, it was the vine that Jensen couldn’t find. She liked to hide, so it really wasn’t that unusual, but she also wasn’t in any of her preferred hidey-holes. She wasn’t behind the counter or in the branches of the dracaena or tucked away in the small forest of verbena lupos.

“Come on, darling,” Jensen said softly. “Come on, don’t scare me like this.”

It didn’t help much - his heart was still pounding painfully when he finally discovered her tucked into an overturned flower pot in the corner where Jensen kept his supplies. “What happened to you, darling?” he asked, getting on his hands and knees in the dirt. He tried to edge closer, cheek almost brushing the floor in an attempt to see her in the dark space, but relented when the vine curled away from him. “It’s okay,” he crooned. “We’ll figure it out.”

He tried extending his fingers once again, more slowly this time, and though the vine tensed, it didn’t move away. “That’s right,” Jensen crooned, and shuffled just a little closer.

The bell over the entryway jingled happily. The vine, now inches away from Jensen’s hand, ducked away and disappeared between two tilting towers of pots.

Jensen sighed. “I’ll be right there,” he called to his customer. “Come on,” he muttered to the plant. “Time to stop hiding.”

He edged closer, as quickly as the vine would let him. It was too safely entrenched for Jensen to reach it with his fingers, but he had customers to attend to now, and as disquieted as the plant seemed to be, he really didn’t want to leave it in its current position. There was really only one thing left for him to resort to, as much as he hated it, and he withdrew his hand to undo his cufflink. Skittering vines liked warm, dark places, and sure enough, when he offered the plant his sleeve to crawl into, it swayed forward, tempted.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he whispered, and the plant made a mad attempt for the cuff of his shirt, disappearing almost instantly underneath the fabric, rough hairs dragging along Jensen’s skin. It was an odd sensation, not entirely pleasant, but not, Jensen imagined, any worse than a cat dragging its tongue along one’s arm.

“It’s okay,” Jensen whispered to her. “I’ll figure out what’s scared you, I will. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

“Jensen,” Jared said behind him, sounding a little strangled.

Of course it was. Jensen smacked the side of his head into the table top in his haste to get up, and then stood there, temple smarting and knees covered in grime and his shirt bulging in the armpit where the skittering vine had taken up refuge.

Jared had a flush sitting high on his cheeks, and when he spoke, he looked a little past Jensen. “I should have waited by the counter?” he mumbled.

Jensen could feel matching heat rising in his face. “It’s alright,” he said, dusting off his hands like that could somehow restore some of his dignity. “Can I help you with something?”

“Well, I was hoping - Are you sure you’re alright?” Jared gestured vaguely at Jensen’s torso, which reminded Jensen of the vine creeping along his collarbone. “You look a bit agitated.”

“Let me just,” Jensen said, gesturing at the lump curled along his collarbone, and turned away slightly to fumble with his tie and shirt button. He lifted the vine carefully out and gave her a moment to curl herself into the empty space between the fuzzy chickweed and the whistling grass, thankfully silent today. When he faced Jared again, there was a flush high on Jared’s cheeks, eyes on Jensen’s fingers as he did up his shirt and settled his tie.

“Jared.” Jensen cleared his throat. “How are you today?”

“I’m fine,” Jared said, a little bewildered. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Jensen said. “I’m fine.” He was rattled, and he wanted to be alone so he could coax the vine from its hiding place and soothe it with quiet words and gentle touches, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure he could soothe anyone, considering the state he was in.

He turned and headed for the safe haven of his counter, gritting his teeth when Jared’s footsteps were close behind.

“I’m serious, Jensen,” Jared said. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Jensen closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “Did you want anything?” he asked. “Because this really isn’t a good time.”

Jared shook his head. “Jensen, I just want to help.”

“You shouldn’t,” Jensen said firmly. “I’m managing just fine, Jared, I have for years. And besides, won’t your lady friend miss you?” He brushed a few specks of dirt from the counter with a decisive movement. “You shouldn’t make her miss you, Jared,” he said. “That’s not good, this early in a relationship.”

Jared pressed his lips together, not quite meeting Jensen’s eyes. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “I’ll just go then,” he said, and Jensen pressed his hands to his burning eyes and didn’t say anything.

~

Jensen turned the incident over and over in his mind for several days, but was never sure what to make of it, right until the moment when he found himself going over his order forms just to make sure everything was ready for his next delivery and found them unlike he’d left them.

“What on Earth,” he murmured, which was when Lindsey burst through the door, face flushed with exertion.

“Jensen!” she said, dropping her messenger bag onto the counter. “Jensen, I have to tell you something.”

“Just a moment,” Jensen murmured, leafing through the forms again. He recalled quite clearly that he’d ordered them by urgency a few days ago, the most pressing ones at the top, but there was one request for next Tuesday in between the ones that weren’t due for another three weeks. He pulled it from the stack, staring down at it, and then he remembered that he was keeping a friend, a customer waiting and gave Lindsey a quick smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

“No, it’s fine.” Lindsey reached across the counter to squeeze one of his hands. “What’s wrong?”

Jensen lowered his voice. “I think someone’s been here,” he said. “Last night, after the shop closed.”

When Lindsey stared at him, eyes wide, he leaned in even closer. “You haven’t seen the skittering vine,” he said. “She’s completely beside herself. Even more so than she usually is. And, just - things are wrong, here. They’re not the way they should be.”

“Are you sure?” Lindsey asked. “I mean - the skittering vine is kind of insane.” She hesitated. “All I’m saying is, is anything actually missing?”

Jensen let his head drop. He wasn’t sure, not at all, which was precisely the problem. If he were sure, he could call the police and have them deal with it, but what would he call them for - an unsettled plant and a disorganized stack of paper? Nothing was missing, as far as he could tell, and he knew from experience that law enforcement didn’t always have the most positive reaction to cases involving plants.

The wailing carnation, the beautiful but oftentimes obnoxious plant that sang beautifully when its owners were unhappy and gave screaming cats a run for their money when they weren’t, the one Jensen had moved to the counter for a little more sunlight, was humming a hauntingly sad little tune.

“What else could it be, Lindsey?” he asked, pushing the flower aside. “It’s not as though I’ve an employee who could have shuffled my orders around, or upset the vine by sneaking around late at night.”

He cast a quick look over his shoulder when someone pushed the door open, and though his stomach gave a now-familiar jolt at the sight of Jared standing in his shop, smiling tentatively, his conversation with Lindsey was important enough to prevent distraction.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Jensen,” she said. “I just think that that’s a pretty harsh accusation to level at someone, without any proof.”

“What do you want me to do instead, then?” Jensen bit out. “Just sit back and take it?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I want you to be rational about this.”

“Like how rational you were about Gerard?” Jensen asked her.

“Oh,” she huffed, reaching for her bag and shoving past Jared with quite a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

“Lindsey,” Jensen said, quietly, but she was already gone.

Jared gave him a rueful smile. “I suppose that didn’t go the way you wanted it to go?”

“Somebody’s been here,” Jensen insisted. He explained the occurrence with the skittering vine, and about the order forms, finishing with, “Someone’s broken in. There’s no other explanation.”

“Alright.” Jared undid his cufflinks and pushed his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, exposing lovely, tan, muscular forearms. “I’m going to go around the building and check that none of the windows have been tampered with. You just look through the rest of your papers, see if anything else isn’t as it should be.”

Perhaps Jensen’s face showed how overwhelmed he was, because Jared’s expression softened a little. “We’ll figure it out, Jensen,” he said. He laid his hand on Jensen’s arm, just briefly, fingertips bleeding heat into Jensen’s skin through the fabric of his shirt. “It’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

Jensen allowed himself to soak up Jared’s compassion for a moment before he nodded and turned to his paperwork. “Let’s take a look, then,” he said, and didn’t look up again until he heard the bell signaling Jared’s departure.

~

Jared returned some forty-five minutes later, when Jensen was just going through the last of his ledgers.

“Anything?” he asked.

Jensen shook his head. “It’s all a bit more… orderly than I can recall leaving it, but I can’t tell if it’s because something is actually different now or because I’m trying too hard to find some sort of disturbance.”

“I might have.” Jared nodded his head towards the door. “There are scratch marks at one of the windows, towards the back. Nothing’s broken, but someone might have gotten inside. I can’t tell.”

“Alright,” Jensen said. “Thank you.” He laid a hand across his forehead, trying to ease his impending headache.

Jared gave him a worried look, and Jensen forced himself to smile at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He pushed sweaty bangs off his forehead. “You’re not here to watch me panic over nothing. How is everything with you?”

“Fine, fine,” Jared said, nodding distractedly. “Hey, listen, I wanted to apologize for the other day. This is your work, and I shouldn’t expect you to always have time for me.”

“That’s alright,” Jensen said. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks. “I like spending time with you. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, you didn’t deserve it at all.”

“So we’re both really sorry,” Jared said, grinning.

Jensen smiled back at him. “It looks like it.”

“Well, that makes it easy,” Jared declared. “We’ll just have to make it up to each other.”

“Oh yeah?” Jensen raised an eyebrow. “And how do you propose we do that?”

Jared placed a grave hand on Jensen’s shoulder, thumb dragging along the side of Jensen’s neck. He managed to keep a straight face, but the dimples appearing in his cheeks gave him away. “I think we should have tea.”

“Tea.”

“Yes, tea.” Jared darted his tongue over his lips. “It should be a suitable punishment for the both of us.”

“That’s not much of a punishment,” Jensen said. He gently moved his shoulder out of Jared’s grip, before the heat soaking into his skin made him forget himself. “I’ll get the tea started.”

“Just one second,” Jared said. He pushed his hands into his pockets, bulging out the fabric. “Before I forget: I did have a reason for coming in today.”

“Alright,” Jensen said slowly. “What is it, then?”

“I.” Jared reached up to finger the back of his neck. “I actually wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Oh,” Jensen said. “Alright. I mean, of course. Ask away.”

“Okay.” Jared smiled at him, looking determined, and dropped his hand. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m in my third year at the university,” he said. “I’m in the engineering program.”

Jensen did some mental math at that new information and came to a startling conclusion. “You’re twenty-one?” he asked, perhaps a little too loudly.

Jared blinked at him, and Jensen flushed.

“Just - you look older than that,” he mumbled, willing Jared to take it as a compliment and not stalk off in a huff.

“Oh.” Jared smiled. “I’m twenty-six, actually. I spent the first couple of years out of high school with my father’s firm, building dams in flood-endangered areas, and didn’t actually begin my studies until I was twenty-three. A bit late, I’ll admit, but I think it was worth it.”

“No, I’m - I’m sorry,” Jensen said. “Carry on, please.”

“Right,” Jared said. He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Well, one of my lectures this term is on sustainability, and there’s a term paper that I’ve yet to find a suitable topic for.”

He glanced up over at Jensen, and then away. “I’ve spoken to my professor about various options, and, well, I might have told her about your shop?” He smiled sheepishly. “I was just so fascinated, I couldn’t help it. But she definitely approves,” he rushed on to explain, “and she thinks the hornbeam and the leeching ivy are great subjects for a paper. So what I’m really asking, I suppose, is if I could perhaps come in every once in a while and observe their development. I’d be entirely unobtrusive, I promise.”

Jensen blinked at him, vaguely stunned. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been Jared asking to spend more time with him, or at his shop at least, and it took a moment for his startled expression to morph into a smile. “Of course,” he hastened to assure Jared who stood quietly before him, unsure and perhaps a little crestfallen at his silence. “Of course, Jared, you don’t even have to ask.”

“I do,” Jared insisted, but he was grinning widely enough for it not to matter.

“You’re more than welcome,” Jensen said. He absently drummed his fingers on top of his ledger. “Anytime.”

Jared was still grinning, and Jensen looked down for a moment, licked his lips.

“If you have any questions, you know, that your professor can’t help you with… Well. Maybe I can be of assistance.”

“That’d be great. I’ve started researching, but there’s just so much information, you know, I’m not really sure where to start looking.”

Jensen leaned back against the counter. He crossed his arms in front of his stomach and tilted his head to the side. “What have you looked at so far?” he asked.

“I’ve been reading a lot of Steinhower’s Handbook to Parasitic Plants,” Jared offered, and, at Jensen’s approving nod, went on, “And I recently started looking at Wilfred’s Introductory Plant Biology.”

“No, no, not Wilfred.” Jensen shook his head vehemently. “Half of its content is inaccurate, and the other half is outright wrong. You’re much better off relying on something like Invasive Plant Ecology and Management, or The Vancouver Illustrated Glossary of Botanical Terms, or Parasitic Plants of the World - that one is less detailed, but it draws some interesting parallels between the evolution of plants and that of society.”

“Alright,” Jared said. He looked around. “I should probably make a note of that,” he said.

“I should have them right here,” Jensen offered. He pushed himself off the counter and rounded it to get to the bookshelf behind it. “Here’s the Vancouver Glossary,” he said. “And this is Earthbound Parasites, another good one, and Pollination and Floral Ecology: A Handbook,” and then he spotted Physiology and Behavior of Complementing Plants at the end of the row and pulled that down as well, and when he turned back to lay them on the counter, he found Jared watching him with wide eyes.

Ah, yes. Of course. All Jared had done was ask him for advice, and Jensen practically offered him an entire library. He smiled carefully. “Only if you want them, of course,” he said.

Jared laughed. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “Jensen, of course I want them. This is wonderful.”

Jensen smiled again, a little more certainly this time. “You don’t have to read them here, if you don’t want to,” he said. “You could take them home with you, if you promise to bring them back safe and sound.”

But Jared just shook his head, letting his gaze wander. “I like it here,” he said. He smiled. “I like the atmosphere.”

It wasn’t the first time Jensen had heard someone say that, not by far. Most of his regular patrons had, at some point or another, exclaimed over how cozy and adorable and quaint his shop was. But it was Jared saying the words this time, and Jensen could feel his cheeks growing hot.

“Thank you,” he managed to get out. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Jared smiled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked. “I really wouldn’t want to be in the way.”

Jensen hastened to assure him that no, he really wasn’t, and procured another stool from the back room so Jared could seat himself in front of the counter and leaf through Jensen’s collection of reference books.

“These are perfect, Jensen,” he said, about three pages in. He looked up and smiled. “Seriously,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

“I could see if I could find my notebooks for you, too,” Jensen offered hesitantly. “There might be something useful in them.”

“That would be amazing, Jensen,” Jared said. He looked like he meant it, too, eyes wide and a small smile tucked away at the corners of his mouth. He let the cover drop shut. “I have to go to class now, unfortunately,” he said. “But I’ll be back for these. And for your notes.”

Jensen nodded, trying not to smile too broadly.

Jared hesitated for a moment, fingers tangled in the strap of his bag, before he leaned in to press a soft, dry kiss to Jensen’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

Then he was gone, and Jensen had to take a moment to catch his breath.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered into the empty space Jared had left behind.

Next to him, the wailing carnation began to howl.

Part 3