schmoop_bingo: Sowing the seeds of love
title: Sowing the seeds of love
pairings: Bob Bryar/Greta, mention of Spencer/Tennessee and a hint of a couple for another fic that I'm writing for the bingo
pov: 3rd
rating: G
prompt: flowers
summary: Bob owns a little but quite successful flower shop,Greta likes to make flower compositions
disclaimer: I honestly don't think Bob is fond of ikebana and such
Bob was proud of his shop. You’d never expect from someone like him to like flowers or have the ability to make compositions with them, but there it is the exception to the rule in front of your eyes.
Bob lived in the apartment above the shop and generally opened shortly after he received the daily batch of flowers and plants. He was friends with Ray, who worked for the greenhouse Bob stocked up from and was usually the one to drive the greenhouse’s green truck -Bob always waited under the shop’s canopy with a hot coffee for Ray and himself.
“Bryar’s” was a little but successful little shop, squished between a hair salon and a bakery, and with its good amount of customers. Again, surprisingly, but maybe not, there were more male clients. Bob liked to conjecture about the reasons they bought that particular flower, bouquet, plant, composition; following that criteria, he often wondered with a bit of sarcasm what occurrence did they forget or what did they have to be forgiven for this or that time.
One of Bob’s more recent -and profitable- customers was a scruffy looking guy who visited his shop every early monday to buy bunches of fifty red roses each time. The man always had a hopeful look on his face exiting the shop, leaving Bob with the mild curiosity about his “case” for several weeks when he abruptly stopped passing by the shop as often as before. Bob assumed his efforts paid, though, because the young man sometimes visited with another guy hooked at his arm, looking happy together in a more than friendly way.
Some quite regular customers were Tennessee and Spencer: Tennessee was a pretty girl with smiling eyes and long long hair, while Spencer had bright blue eyes and a smile to melt at. They shared with Bob the passion for drumming, that’s why he liked to talk with this couple despite his quiet nature, spanning from flowers and drums to recipes and rugby. Tennessee usually bought mixed bouquets of flowers, colorful yet classic and almost vintage, like herself, while Spencer simply went along with his girlfriend, also to have a chat with Bob.
His favorite regulars, though, were Greta and Alex “call me Marshall”, who shared with Bob the passion for flower compositions and hence visited his shop every ten days for the raw materials. The three of them usually met for lunch at the diner in the opposite street about once a month, Greta and Marshall bringing photos of their latest works and designing Bob as the supreme judge. Bob always hated that part, because they were both his friends, but he was still a professional and his points usually went to Greta’s work - Alex was more inconstant, his compositions were either too rich or too simple, and Bob always told him as much to help him getting better at it, the kid had potential.
Bob secretly admitted he was kind of partial when he chose the winner between Greta and Alex, key word being ‘secretly’, as secret was his crush for the girl. Everything started three years prior, when “Bryar’s” began its business and one of the first customers was this short, smiling, blonde girl.
“Finally a flower shop close to home, I won’t have to drive all around for some flowers anymore,” she said.
Bob nodded shyly at her and continued disposing vases, while she snooped around or bent to smell this or that flower.
“I need a bunch of beargrass, three of these orchids, please, and…do you have also florist sponge?” the girl asked from her spot in front of the aforementioned orchids.
“Sure, how big do you need the sponge to be?”
“Uhm, a medium one should be fine.”
Bob took a packaging of florist sponge from the shelves behind him, then when he went to take the orchids he felt Greta smiling at him, but he couldn’t make himself looking back. On his way back to the counter, he grabbed a handful of beargrass and brought everything to the cash desk, red from the roots of his light hair to his neck.
“It’s fifteen dollars,” Bob said while putting everything in a bag with the shop’s logo, “Thanks for visiting Bryar’s,” he smiled hesitantly at the new customer.
“Thank you, I’ll return soon,” Greta beamed and left.
Three years have been enough, though, and it was time for Bob to declare himself to the girl he liked. He was waiting impatiently for Greta’s usual hour to pass by his shop, stalking nervously from an end to the other of the counter, when the bell at the entrance jingled and a familiar mop of blonde curls entered the shop.
“Hi Bob! How’re you?”
Bob prayed she didn’t notice his pink cheeks.
“All good, Greta, and you?”
“Good, good,” she smiled brightly, “This week’s project consists of-”
“I have something for-”
They looked at each other and at the count of three they burst out laughing.
“You first,” Bob said chivalrously.
“Okay,” Greta chuckled, “I need five anthuriums and an aloe leaf.”
“Sure thing.”
Before Bob wrapped the flowers up, he took a package from under the counter and gave it to Greta.
“For you,” he stated without looking at Greta directly.
The girl accepted the gift with shiny eyes and asked, “Can I open it already?”
At Bob’s nod, Greta quickly but carefully untied the yellow ribbon on top and unwrapped the paper: a nice composition of yellow orchids, pale orange daisies and yellow carnations in a nest of dark brown branches appeared on the counter. Bob was growing restless at Greta’s silence, he was mutely freaking out and apprehensively waiting for a reaction, whether she liked his present or not.
A blinding smile suddenly appeared on Greta’s face.
“It’s awesome, Bob! And these orchids are my favorite, they’re absolutely beautiful!” Greta gushed over the composition Bob made for her. Bob became even more red, if possible.
“Not like you,” he mumbled. The smile froze on Greta’s face.
“What?”
Bob fidgeted with the discarded card while repeating, “They aren’t as beautiful as you.”
Greta blushed and looked down, a shy smile on her rosy lips.
“Well, I like you too,” she admitted timidly.
Awkwardness was interrupted by a customer, who needed a bouquet of tulips, urgently. Bob accomplished and sold the flowers to the man, who ran out of the shop; as soon as the man left, Bob and Greta couldn’t hold their laughter anymore, both imagining the man forgot his anniversary.
“Here are your flowers, I can’t wait for our monthly meeting to see what will you come up with, this time,” Bob held the bag with Greta’s purchases and his gift out for her.
“You don’t have to wait other two weeks, you know,” she observed cheekily and a bit naughtily. Bob blushed at her tone but smirked.
“How much is it?” Greta asked when she took the bag,
“Free of charge,” Bob stated.
“Oh, thanks,” the girl giggled, “See you.”
“Bye, Greta.”
Bob smiled like never before and whistled a tune while tidying up.
pairings: Bob Bryar/Greta, mention of Spencer/Tennessee and a hint of a couple for another fic that I'm writing for the bingo
pov: 3rd
rating: G
prompt: flowers
summary: Bob owns a little but quite successful flower shop,Greta likes to make flower compositions
disclaimer: I honestly don't think Bob is fond of ikebana and such
Bob was proud of his shop. You’d never expect from someone like him to like flowers or have the ability to make compositions with them, but there it is the exception to the rule in front of your eyes.
Bob lived in the apartment above the shop and generally opened shortly after he received the daily batch of flowers and plants. He was friends with Ray, who worked for the greenhouse Bob stocked up from and was usually the one to drive the greenhouse’s green truck -Bob always waited under the shop’s canopy with a hot coffee for Ray and himself.
“Bryar’s” was a little but successful little shop, squished between a hair salon and a bakery, and with its good amount of customers. Again, surprisingly, but maybe not, there were more male clients. Bob liked to conjecture about the reasons they bought that particular flower, bouquet, plant, composition; following that criteria, he often wondered with a bit of sarcasm what occurrence did they forget or what did they have to be forgiven for this or that time.
One of Bob’s more recent -and profitable- customers was a scruffy looking guy who visited his shop every early monday to buy bunches of fifty red roses each time. The man always had a hopeful look on his face exiting the shop, leaving Bob with the mild curiosity about his “case” for several weeks when he abruptly stopped passing by the shop as often as before. Bob assumed his efforts paid, though, because the young man sometimes visited with another guy hooked at his arm, looking happy together in a more than friendly way.
Some quite regular customers were Tennessee and Spencer: Tennessee was a pretty girl with smiling eyes and long long hair, while Spencer had bright blue eyes and a smile to melt at. They shared with Bob the passion for drumming, that’s why he liked to talk with this couple despite his quiet nature, spanning from flowers and drums to recipes and rugby. Tennessee usually bought mixed bouquets of flowers, colorful yet classic and almost vintage, like herself, while Spencer simply went along with his girlfriend, also to have a chat with Bob.
His favorite regulars, though, were Greta and Alex “call me Marshall”, who shared with Bob the passion for flower compositions and hence visited his shop every ten days for the raw materials. The three of them usually met for lunch at the diner in the opposite street about once a month, Greta and Marshall bringing photos of their latest works and designing Bob as the supreme judge. Bob always hated that part, because they were both his friends, but he was still a professional and his points usually went to Greta’s work - Alex was more inconstant, his compositions were either too rich or too simple, and Bob always told him as much to help him getting better at it, the kid had potential.
Bob secretly admitted he was kind of partial when he chose the winner between Greta and Alex, key word being ‘secretly’, as secret was his crush for the girl. Everything started three years prior, when “Bryar’s” began its business and one of the first customers was this short, smiling, blonde girl.
“Finally a flower shop close to home, I won’t have to drive all around for some flowers anymore,” she said.
Bob nodded shyly at her and continued disposing vases, while she snooped around or bent to smell this or that flower.
“I need a bunch of beargrass, three of these orchids, please, and…do you have also florist sponge?” the girl asked from her spot in front of the aforementioned orchids.
“Sure, how big do you need the sponge to be?”
“Uhm, a medium one should be fine.”
Bob took a packaging of florist sponge from the shelves behind him, then when he went to take the orchids he felt Greta smiling at him, but he couldn’t make himself looking back. On his way back to the counter, he grabbed a handful of beargrass and brought everything to the cash desk, red from the roots of his light hair to his neck.
“It’s fifteen dollars,” Bob said while putting everything in a bag with the shop’s logo, “Thanks for visiting Bryar’s,” he smiled hesitantly at the new customer.
“Thank you, I’ll return soon,” Greta beamed and left.
Three years have been enough, though, and it was time for Bob to declare himself to the girl he liked. He was waiting impatiently for Greta’s usual hour to pass by his shop, stalking nervously from an end to the other of the counter, when the bell at the entrance jingled and a familiar mop of blonde curls entered the shop.
“Hi Bob! How’re you?”
Bob prayed she didn’t notice his pink cheeks.
“All good, Greta, and you?”
“Good, good,” she smiled brightly, “This week’s project consists of-”
“I have something for-”
They looked at each other and at the count of three they burst out laughing.
“You first,” Bob said chivalrously.
“Okay,” Greta chuckled, “I need five anthuriums and an aloe leaf.”
“Sure thing.”
Before Bob wrapped the flowers up, he took a package from under the counter and gave it to Greta.
“For you,” he stated without looking at Greta directly.
The girl accepted the gift with shiny eyes and asked, “Can I open it already?”
At Bob’s nod, Greta quickly but carefully untied the yellow ribbon on top and unwrapped the paper: a nice composition of yellow orchids, pale orange daisies and yellow carnations in a nest of dark brown branches appeared on the counter. Bob was growing restless at Greta’s silence, he was mutely freaking out and apprehensively waiting for a reaction, whether she liked his present or not.
A blinding smile suddenly appeared on Greta’s face.
“It’s awesome, Bob! And these orchids are my favorite, they’re absolutely beautiful!” Greta gushed over the composition Bob made for her. Bob became even more red, if possible.
“Not like you,” he mumbled. The smile froze on Greta’s face.
“What?”
Bob fidgeted with the discarded card while repeating, “They aren’t as beautiful as you.”
Greta blushed and looked down, a shy smile on her rosy lips.
“Well, I like you too,” she admitted timidly.
Awkwardness was interrupted by a customer, who needed a bouquet of tulips, urgently. Bob accomplished and sold the flowers to the man, who ran out of the shop; as soon as the man left, Bob and Greta couldn’t hold their laughter anymore, both imagining the man forgot his anniversary.
“Here are your flowers, I can’t wait for our monthly meeting to see what will you come up with, this time,” Bob held the bag with Greta’s purchases and his gift out for her.
“You don’t have to wait other two weeks, you know,” she observed cheekily and a bit naughtily. Bob blushed at her tone but smirked.
“How much is it?” Greta asked when she took the bag,
“Free of charge,” Bob stated.
“Oh, thanks,” the girl giggled, “See you.”
“Bye, Greta.”
Bob smiled like never before and whistled a tune while tidying up.