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littlejedii · 7 years

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Bloom

Long Exposure flower shop AU. This was written off this fanart by sadcooki WOW it’s just so good GO LOOK AT IT please. Made me think of the song Bloom by the Paper Kites. Maybe probably to be posted on ao3 someday maybe? Idk. Story under the break!

It’s a Wednesday, their slowest day of the week. Even worse yet it’s a chilly, windy Wednesday; the clear sky and bright sun deceptive of the dropping October temperatures. Everybody’s bought their Mums for the fall season and the Sunflowers in their greenhouse are starting to wilt a bit.

First thing Mitch does is check on the Indian corn, then the dried Sumac his mom wants to make wreaths with. The heat is on, he’s sure of it, since the warm gust of air that had welcomed him in the early morning had made his eyes tired and heavy.

Regardless, he checks the thermostat, then makes his way back to the greenhouse. It’s barely the size of a backyard shed, lined with damaged plywood shelves on all sides. He starts at the bottom shelf, gently moving each pot out just slightly to check on the plant’s growth.

October is his least favorite month for succulents, but he checks each and every one all the same.

The bottom shelf is the chilliest, populated by small terracotta pots of cold-hardy Senecio Haworthii Cocoon Plant. He runs his fingertips over the fine hair of the plant. They won’t produce their pretty yellow flowers for some time, but they’re sprouting up happily ahead of schedule.

Next shelf up is his favorite for the month, Kalanchoe Tomentosa. For now, these are the smallest, but they’ll grow nicely. The little buds will mature to become alluring, but dangerous; he doesn’t sell them to people with cats or kids or anything likely to eat it, because it’s super poisonous. Which is pretty killer, if you ask him.

Top shelf are his pride and joy, the Echinocereus Reichenbachii. The cacti are growing thick with mean spikes despite the poor conditions, and he grins. It’ll be hard to sell these beauties.

He never actually made it far enough in science classes for their technical names to mean dick to him, but he still calls each and every one by its given name. Writes them down, knows how to pronounce them, makes an effort to remember them. It’s a respect thing. It’s probably why they grow for him even in the cooler weather with only the protection of their shitty, ramshackle greenhouse.

He turns away, crouching to check the bed of soil on the floor. Heavy leaves and thick vines twist and curl through the dirt and onto the floor, yellow flowers dotting the green. A few yellowish pumpkins cling to the vines.

The bell on the door jingles, alerting him of his Mom’s arrival.

That, and her shrill voice rings out, “OH brrr, it’s cold as a witch’s tit outside! Feels so nice in here, huh, Mitchy?”

“Yup,” he calls back, trimming the dead leaves from the pumpkin plant and carefully shutting the door to the greenhouse to amble his way back inside.

“Gonna be a slow day, huh?”

“Mm,” he grunts. He’s not exactly looking forward to being here all day, yet again, just like every other day.

But supporting his mom’s dream is worth it. So it’s okay. As Henrietta pulls her hair up into a ponytail and lights her first cigarette of the day, he sighs. It’s gonna be a long one. Winter sales are painfully slow this time of year. Too far from Halloween from pumpkins, but they can’t grow that many anyway. Too wintery for gardens, because everyone’s content letting their summer flowers die off. Far, far off from the holiday season of holly and berry and poinsettia.

Flower shop limbo. What purgatory feels like, probably.

Henrietta busies herself all morning, humming and smoking while she makes pretty wreathes. Burlap bows and twine wrap her creations, brightened by the Indian corn and Sumac Mitch had fetched for her. He moves their larger plants and bushes around at his Mom’s command, and in no time he’s caked head to toe in dirt.

“I changed my mind, put that Little Henry on the top shelf and move the Brandywine out to the front, so people can see it.”

“In the window?”

“No, next to the doors! And look,” she holds up one of her creations happily, “so cute. Would this be nice on the door?”

“Yeah, I think it’d be perfect,” he responds, smiling a bit. Her excitement about the little things makes the terrible mundaneness of this place bearable. He lugs the Brandywine out to the front, shivering as a large gust whips down the narrow street. A shirt with sleeves probably would have been a good decision today, he thinks as he hangs Henrietta’s decoration on the door. As he’s lugging the second, inexplicably heavier Brandywine over their doorjam, he hears the quick shuffle of footsteps interrupt the silent morning.

Must be 9:30 already. The morning really flew by. Pretending not to look, he stares from the side of his eye at the figure ambling down the street. The boy wraps his jacket tighter around himself, ducking his head as the sharp winds blow his wild, chocolate brown curls around. The sun’s doing that thing it always does around this time, becomes bright and golden as the boy walks down the street, illuminating all the shop windows and catching the mailboxes.

Almost like the dark-haired boy himself is the sun, brightening everything for a single glorious moment before he ducks into the cafe across the street. Mitch sighs. Another day, another opportunity to talk to him passed because he’s too goddamn chicken. How long had he been watching him from afar? Maybe something like 8 months now. He’s thought about going into the cafe, ordering something for the chance to talk to the guy, but that’s too... forced. Lost in thought, he barely hears his Mom calling him from inside.

She’s hand-painted them a sign, “Freddie’s Flowers” in happy blue letters on white, and it’s his job to hang it above the stained red awning on the front of the building. He teeters on the very top step of a rickety ladder, his knees wavering as he grips nails between his teeth and hammers the sign into the wood siding. Another big gust of wind and he’s shaking, from cold and the shuddering ladder.

“Hey up there,” he hears a musical voice call. He looks down, squinting against the sunshine. Big green eyes and a shy smile greet him. The air is knocked from his lungs.

It’s the boy.

Mitch nearly inhales a nail as he drops the hammer, fumbling it in his hands and getting far too close to dropping off the ladder. He scrambles down, awkward, gangly limbs barely catching the rungs before his ratty sneakers hit the pavement.

The boy’s so small. Even prettier up close. A smattering of freckles adorns him, from the expanse of his smooth forehead, down the curve of his neck, then disappear under the collar of his sweater. His teeth are pearly, perfectly straight below his lips, and he’s still grinning. His curls are loose, wild, look like they feel so incredibly soft. He smells amazing.

Mitch hasn’t said anything for almost a solid minute, and the boy is starting to look slightly unnerved.

“Hi. Hey,” Mitch breathes.

“Hi,” the boy’s smile grows, “Are you Freddie?”

“Ah, no. I’m Mitch,” his words falter only slightly. It’s been years since he’s been called his brothers name.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Jonas, I work- like, right there,” he finishes with a soft giggle, pointing across the street.

“Yeah, I know,” Mitch says automatically. “I see you- I see you most days, walking in,” he prattles, trying to recover as his face flushes red.

“I usually see you, too,” Jonas smiles softly, “but you’ve never come in, so I thought I’d bring something to you.” He raises a white cup, stamped with a picture of a Magnolia flower, and extends it out to Mitch.

Goddamn he fucking hates coffee. But he takes it, his freezing fingers brushing against Jonas’ as he takes it and knocks back a swig.

I mean, at least the boy tried to make it drinkable. There’s probably cream and sugar in it, but fuck, it’s still so disgusting. He keeps his face straight as the bitter liquid sits on his tongue.

“Thanks, it’s good,” he lies. “I needed this.”

“Yeah, I just thought you looked hot- COLD. I thought you looked cold. I thought you needed something hot. To drink. So I brought you coffee,” a blush is rising from Jonas’ neck, over his cheeks and up to his hairline as he sputters the words out.

“No, it’s perfect, I did,” Mitch responds quickly. “Thanks, thank you.”

They stay quiet for a moment, Jonas staring into the window of the shop, Mitch staring at Jonas.

“I’ll see you around then, right?” Jonas asks, cocking his head to the side and looking painfully cute.

“Yeah,” Mitch answers back far too quickly, then clears his throat. “Definitely.” They smile at each other for just a second before Jonas nods and turns away, walking quickly back into the cafe across the street. His heart is beating rapidly.

So that didn’t go amazing. He wasn’t smooth or flirtatious or charming like he had always dreamed he’d be when he finally got the balls to talk to Jonas, but it could’ve gone worse. He stares through the window of the cafe and takes another sip of coffee, using everything in him not to shudder at the taste. Through the window he catches Jonas’ green eyes on him again. They widen in embarrassment as he looks down and away, shuffling away from the glass. Mitch grins.

Yeah. That definitely could’ve gone worse.

The next day he comes in late, lugging a heavy box of plastic pots from their garden supplier and grunts his way through the backdoor. He’s in a shitty mood. Their supplier got them the wrong size pots, it had started to pour as he was loading them into the truck, and worst of all he didn’t see Jonas through the cafe window. He slings his apron over his neck lazily as he pushes his soaking wet hair back. Henriettas’ chattering away to a customer at the counter, but he doesn’t bother paying attention, standing on his tiptoes to pull a heavy Oakleaf Hydrangea from the top shelf someone had ordered earlier.

“Hey up there,” a familiar voice rings out, and he can’t control how fast he spins around with a grin.

“Hey! It’s- it’s Jonas, right?” Mitch asks, making like he hasn’t been repeating the name over and over in his head since the moment he heard it.

“Yeah. I needed some flowers for the tables, so of course I’d come here. I was... wondering where you were,” Jonas finishes quickly, staring intently at Mitch’s exposed arms then darting his eyes away to the bush.

“I had to pick up a delivery,” Mitch says, bending to place the plant down, “so what’re you thinkin’ for the tables?”

“Gosh. I have no idea,” Jonas lets out an embarrassed, breathy laugh. “Something... Fall-y? Yellow, or oranges maybe? Reds? I’m terrible at this stuff.”

“I have an idea. C’mere” he nods, leading Jonas to their fridge and bending to gather some stems. “I’ll do it. Just some sprigs, yeah?”

“Yeah, the vases are really small, and we have five tables,” Jonas leans down to watch what he’s doing, and Mitch stops breathing. He smells like warm bread and vanilla, and his hand lays softly on Mitch’s shoulder to balance himself.

“How’s, uh, how’s this?” he asks, raising a small arrangement. “Antique Rose, Foxglove, Agonis and some Privet Berries. It’s not really what you asked for, but-”

“No! No, it’s perfect. But how much-”

“Nothing. Consider ‘em payback for the coffee,” Mitch says, red face turned away from Jonas as the small hand squeezes his shoulder. His long fingers waver a bit as he wraps the arrangements with twine.

When he stands to hand them over, Jonas beams up at him. He’s breathless when Jonas’ fingers graze his, sending electricity down his arms as he thanks him for the flowers. The smaller boy walks out with a shy wave, and bids goodbye to Henrietta. Mitch watches him walk the entire way back to the cafe. His mom clears her throat and he looks over to her. She’s got a Cheshire grin.

“He’s cute as hell.”

“Right?”

“So ask him out!”

“Him? He’s way outta my league. I’ll just... keep givin’ him flowers. And drinkin’ that nasty coffee,” he makes a face. Henrietta shakes her head, smiling as she plucks a stem of Thistle from his t-shirt.

Jonas brings him a coffee the next morning.

And the next one.

And the next afternoon, when he comes in late again from delivery. He does the cafe’s flowers once a week as repayment. Months since their first meeting, Mitch still hasn’t gotten the courage to take anything further than a shy smile, a familiar hello, a kind favor. Though they don’t talk much, their encounters are always filled with touch. A soft, small hand on his bicep. Fingers grazing his and remaining on them just a second too long. Once he had even pulled a leaf from Jonas’ curls, knees weak at the silkiness of his hair.

One rainy day, when Jonas brings him a drink and turns to leave, Mitch catches his arm.

“Wait,” he says, and he swears when Jonas turns back around he looks hopeful. “I’m about to take a break. Do you... Wanna sit down with me?”

“Sure,” Jonas breathes back. Mitch drops his arm and leads him to the back, pulling out a folding chair and gesturing to it as he leans against the potting table.

“Sid’ll probably wonder where I am,” Jonas muses, but plops down in the chair as his eyes scan the ribbon wall, the bouquet wraps, the filler flowers in the cooler. Their knees are almost touching in the close space. He doesn’t stay seated for long before his eyes widen and he rises, brushing past Mitch to the cooler and pointing at a wedding arrangement.

“This is gorgeous!” he grins, and Mitch comes up behind him.

“Yeah, can’t take credit for that. That was my Mom... but I’ll make you one like that. If you want it.” One of his long arms is caging Jonas in against the cooler, the other places the coffee down and shoves into his pocket.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Jonas waves noncommittally and glances back at him.

“You... I dunno. You wouldn’t have to. Ask, I mean,” he’s fumbling and blushing.

“Why not?”

“Well,” he starts, his eyes on the back of Jonas’ neck as he stares into the cooler, “I like doin’ flowers for you. You appreciate ‘em.” Jonas laughs and turns, his back pressed against the glass and his front nearly pressed against Mitch. Bravely, Mitch doesn’t back up or retreat. He keeps close.

“That’s how I feel about bringing you coffee, too,” Jonas says almost dreamily, then hums out a laugh. “Feels nice.”

Jonas’ gem-green eyes are locked on his, and he’s melting. His skin sears as Jonas shifts against him, their torsos so close to touching, their hands knocking intermittently as Jonas moves and he feels a knee brush against his. It’s electric.

“I dunno... I feel kinda shitty,” he says honestly, staring down with adoration. Jonas’ eyes become alarmed.

“What? Why?”

“I mean... I’ve kinda been lyin’ to ya,” the words are said with a sheepish grin.

“About what?”

“You won’t get mad?”

“I hope not,” Jonas retorts with a cocked eyebrow. Mitch snorts.

“I... don’t like coffee.” He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck and casting his eyes down as Jonas inhales. He hears giggling, bubbly and musical but slightly muffled. Jonas’ freckled hand is over his mouth. He shakes his head as he brings the hand to run through his curls.

“I don’t believe it,” he says, still laughing softly, “I- I’m actually really allergic to flowers.” Mitch bites his lower lips and snorts, chuckling through his teeth as they both turn bright red.

“I like your coffee, though,” he says after an extended silence.

“Your flowers don’t bother me that much, either,” Jonas grins, so bright and gorgeous that Mitch can’t stand not touching him for a moment longer. He brings his hands up to cradle Jonas’ cheeks, reveling in the warmth of them under his cold fingers. Jonas’ smile drops, but his eyes brighten as they grow closer, close than they’ve ever been.

Mitch closes the gap quickly, his eyes slipping closed as he softens into the warmth of Jonas’ mouth. Arms wind around his neck and pull him closer as they kiss slowly, the world seeming to disappear. He could spend forever like this, only focusing on Jonas and his lips and skin and smell. He intends to, actually.

He teases Jonas lower lips with his teeth, tastes his tongue and presses them firmly together. Small steps close the gap between their bodies, and suddenly he’s pressing Jonas into the cool glass while hands stroke the back of his neck gently. Jonas’ panting is one of the most magnificent sounds he’s ever heard, that along with the soft whine which escapes him.

“Oh, Mitch,” Jonas moans, just above a whisper. He was enamored before, but now he’s beyond smitten hearing the sound of his name on Jonas’ lips.

“God, Joey baby, that sounds nice,” he sighs between their kisses, his heart fluttering as Jonas’ hands make their way into his hair. They’re in heaven, wrapped up in each other for what seems like an eternity, shutting off everything but the parts of themselves dedicated to the other.

A loud bang makes them jump and instantly they’re feet apart, wiping their swollen lips and blushing furiously.

“Mit- Oh fuck, shit, sorry! Keep goin’, sorry!” Henrietta raises her eyebrows, waving her hands and backing out of the door. Their breathing is heavy as they look back at each other.

“So. D’ya wanna... go out sometime? On a real date?” Mitch says, swallowing thickly.

“That sounds pretty great,” Jonas flushes with a smile, still out of breath. “We can go for coffee.”

“Yeah. I’ll bring flowers.”

#jonas wagner #mitchell mueller #long exposure #mitjo #fic

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rlenvs3000-19 · 5 years

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Prompt 7: One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

Picking the “most amazing” thing I knew about nature was a challenge; there are so many fascinating things about our planet that choosing just one was nigh impossible. Should I write about bioluminescence and Vaadhoo Island’s “Sea of Stars” created by glowing plankton? How about the fact that dogs are not just man’s best friend but also cheetah’s best friend? Maybe the effort to save the endangered black footed ferret using peanut butter plague vaccines and drones. (The peanut butter is not actually for the ferrets, which are obligate carnivores, but for their main prey population: prairie dogs. Prairie dog colonies can be devastated by the plague, which wipes out the ferrets’ entire food supply. Distributing the vaccines by drone would be much less time and resource intensive and would protect the prairie dog and ferret populations, as well as all the other animals that rely on the prairie dog for food.)

I could almost certainly reach my word goal just by listing potential topics, but I had to choose one eventually: animal coloration, which I chose because it’s something that we encounter every day but - barring sciences classes and the occasional passing comment about how pretty a particular animals is - do not often talk about. It sounds pretty simple and self explanatory right off the bat. In fact, it is pretty simple and self-explanatory; animal coloration is just what it sounds like: the colors of an animal’s fur, feathers, scales, or skin. But despite its humble appearance (pun intended), animal coloration has had a huge effect on evolution, biodiversity, and species interaction.

Many animals have developed color patterns that send a message to other species, like the bright colors seen on a poison dart frog or the black and white stripes of a skunk. These colors are a form of aposematism, a warning to predators that they are not worth eating due to things like toxicity, foul taste/smell, sharp spines, etc. This type of warning signal benefits both the prey and predator species, since it protects them both from potential harm. Other species also take advantage of this type of color communication; some edible animals have evolved color patterns resembling distasteful animals to reduce their risk of being eaten, which is a phenomenon called Batesian mimicry. The venomous coral snake has distinctive red, yellow, and black bands, and many species of nonvenomous snake, like the scarlet kingsnake and some milk snakes, mimic this coloring. You may have heard the rhyme “Red touches yellow, you're a dead fellow. Red touches black, you're okay Jack” or “Red on yellow kills a fellow. Red on black, venom lack” as a way to differentiate the coral snake from the nonvenomous mimics. While this rhyme can be useful most of the time, it’s not 100% accurate, especially outside of North America.

This poison dart frog’s bright blue skin warns predators not to eat it. (source)

Coloration can also be used as a way to avoid unwanted attention. Many prey species, like the orange oakleaf moth or the Indian flying lizard, have camouflage to help them avoid detection. The Papuan Frogmouth has disruptive coloration, a form of camouflage where the outline of an animal is broken up using a strongly contrasting pattern. Predators also use camouflage. The patterns seen on both tigers and leopards help them avoid detection as they’re stalking their prey. Other predators, like flower mantises, use special aggressive resemblance and mimic other items, to lure prey into their range.

Plylar‏, Helen Bond (@SssnakeySci). “Received this from a fellow HERper this morning. No caption needed, the task was implied: ‘can you spot the snake?’” 23 April 2017, 7:16 AM. (source)

#prompt response #prompt 7 #my post

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