Thursday - Love = 42 (words)

[mustbethursday3]

It's Thursday and I'm mustbethursday3, (I can't believe this is it, this week was fast) my final Theme is:

'Love = 42 (words)'

I guess the Theme could be taken one of two ways:

1) Write a drabble in 42 words.

OR

2) Write 42 words of dialogue/a message (within a longer than 42 words ficlet).

The cool thing is 'love' can be shown between two characters/an entire team in

Comments

Fill: "Speaking the Same Language", G

[ami_ven]

(technically, the message in this one is 42 words, collectively)

"David, I have something to tell you," said Lorne, but without another word, he pushed a bouquet of flowers into Parrish's hands.

It was certainly not the most pleasing arrangement the botanist had ever seen- it was a riot of colors and angles, different-length stems banded together with what looked a broken shoelace.

"What-?" he started to ask, but stopped when he spotted something.

Almond blossoms, not really the most common thing to put in a bouquet. In the old language of flowers they meant 'hope'.

Did that mean...? Parrish shifted the bouquet to the crook of his elbow so he could touch the tiny flowers with gentle figures. Even most botanists didn't know flower meanings- they were hardly science, after all- so surely, the major must have simply picked the flowers he could find.

But, he'd also said he had something to tell him, and he hadn't said anything else. Parrish glanced up at Lorne, whose face revealed nothing, then back at the bouquet.

There, just beside the almond blooms, was a sprig of arbor vitae, which meant 'unchanging friendship'. And jasmine, that was 'you are cheerful and graceful'.

Well, maybe the major did know what the flowers meant. He felt Lorne watching him, but didn't look up, continuing to catalogue the types of flowers.

Sweet William, 'a smile'; sweet alyssum, 'worth beyond beauty'; fern, 'sincerity'; yellow balsom, 'impatient'.

He frowned. What did Lorne have to be impatient about? Maybe he knew Parrish would be distracted in naming each flower- he grinned again and got back to it.

Frankincense, 'faithful heart'; pansy, 'think of me'; gladioli, 'give me a break'.

Parrish frowned again. If this bouquet was a message, it was a very strange one. "Evan..." he began.

"Just keep looking," said Lorne softly, though his expression didn't change.

Honeysuckle, 'devoted affection'; purple columbine, 'resolved to win'; corepsis arkansas, 'love at first sight'.

He looked up again, and saw that Lorne's eyes were closed, as though he were... nervous. Parrish took a deep breath and looked back down at the flowers.

Yellow acacia, 'secret love'; red chrysanthemum, 'I love you'; forget-me-not, 'true love'- and there, almost lost amid the vibrant blossoms, was a tiny sprig of holly, for 'domestic happiness'.

"Evan..." he said again, with no idea how to finish the thought.

"So," said Lorne, pulling something from the pocket of his BDUs, "you left this in my office.

It was Parrish's battered copy of The Language of Flowers and he took it, grinning.

"In that case," he said, "I have something to tell you, too."

And he pulled Lorne in for a kiss.