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calliedion-dungeon · 11 months

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❦Say it with flowers

Young Papa Emeritus Primo/ GN Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Young Primo falls in love with you at first sight, without wasting time, he begins to make love to you by sending you flowers and showing you their meaning, before daring to confess who he is because he is very shy, but a couple of imps accelerate his courtship. Mentions of Terzo and Secondo being mischievous children and Primo being their tutor.

Tags: Family Fluff, Making love means courting, like old times, unspecified year, crush, secret admirer. Prophecy in a flower at the end?

Living in the ministry was getting easier every day. Your tumultuous life was getting better and better when you approached the clergy and finally found your chosen family.

The world was healing, and so were you. The war left you alone in this forsaken land, but life was being kind to you again. Everyone had hope for the future once more, you even started to consider seeing a sibling of sin to let him woo you, even if he was too stoic and dry to express his affection, maybe with time, you thought, he might open up little by little, with patience and care.

But as the months went by, you felt discouraged by his manners, distant, ambiguous leanings, you often questioned why bother? Your passionate and romantic heart left you wanting more, and nobody seemed to live up to your standards.

Sometimes even you expected for him to ask you something improper, knowing very well that a gentleman would never risk your reputation, but at least it'll show you that he feels passion for you, even a concealed and sedated one. Nevertheless, he kept giving you nothing, and your interest was withering, practically dead.

One very pleasant sunset, you were strolling by the ministry gardens, admiring the well cared flowers in the hot house, exotic specimens surrounding you, as well as common flowers, sunflowers as tall as you, and they were looking in your direction.

You didn't noticed that somebody was looking at you hiding among these flowers, struck by your beauty, how perfectly divine you look with flowers around you, just where you belong, he thought, the shy young man tried not to make noise so as not to scare you and to be able to continue admiring you calmly, his hands held a flower pot that, being enraptured by you, he forgot to leave somewhere and ended up falling out of his hands. You got scared, but you didn't run, you just jumped in your place.

"Hello? Is someone there?" You saw a silhouette moving around, but not quite who it was behind the tall sunflowers and ivy.

"Mi dispiace for startling you, I'll clean this" the voice said while sweeping the dirt, you wanted to see who it was, but it seemed he was hiding on purpose.

His voice was confident, but his manners were shy, since he didn't appear in front of you to introduce himself, after sweeping he just disappeared.

The encounter was brief, you retain his words in your mind, his pleasant voice that denotes kindness resonates in your ears for days. You ask everyone you know, who takes care of the greenhouse, your friends can't tell you who he is, they only describe a tall young man with strong features and blond hair combed back, he came not long ago from one of the ministries in Italy, everyone judged him shy because sometimes he is seen talking more to plants than to people, however; he is as determined in his actions than anyone his age.

On one evening, you're about to go to the dining room, ready to head out of your room, you hear giggling on the other side of your door, maybe these children that live in the ministry are doing pranks around, you decide to catch them in the act opening the door and there they were, two very small children laughing together no older than ten years old, they looked like twins, both with dark hair and their left eye was an unsettling white color, they had a bouquet of acacias and sunflowers, they smiled at you and hand it over.

"Thank you very much, child, how pretty. Somebody sent these or…?" You asked them, as you smell the delicious bouquet.

"Non dirglielo, ce l'ha ordinato nostro fratello" one child said to the other.

"Lo so, stronzo" one child said, pushing his little friend or brother, you weren’t sure.

"Non chiamarmi così, stronzino" yells the other and then both start pushing each other and wrestling at your door frame.

You didn't understand the children, they stopped wrestling to look at you, putting the bouquet in water and leaving it near the window that faces the garden, so everyone can see, the dark-haired children elbowed each other and whispered something.

"Roses are red…" one started reciting very loudly.

"Sometimes they have dow… dew!" continued the other child, both have beautiful voices, maybe they were in the choir, you suppose.

"Our brother is in love…"

"And we always knew"

They took turns to say the little rhyme with a very thick accent, very obviously learned to say it only in the moment, since they didn't seem to understand you, and right after, they left running and laughing down the corridor before you could ask again what they meant. They looked so adorable doing the errand, your bewilderment went to the background.

You shared the cute story with your friends, now somebody has eyes for you and it's most intriguing the mystery of your secret admirer. Even if it's a stranger who is doing that, it was a stranger who's making an effort to romance you.

The next week you heard eager knockings on your door, it was the kids again with another bouquet for you, it was a combination of red tulips and yellow iris, but this time a tiny book came with it, a book about floriography with the meaning of the flowers in the Victorian times, this person really wants you to know what they mean, not only the beauty of the gifts, but the message in them. The kids ran away from you again, without letting you say another word, so you ran behind them, this time you needed to know who it was, when they realized that you were behind them, they started to run faster towards the green house.

They screamed like you were a monster trying to catch them, and the bushes in the gardens were like a maze, the children separated and you went for the shorter one, grabbing him from the collar of the white cassock, careful not to hurt him. You took it as a good sign that he was still laughing.

“Alright, you’re going to tell me who is sending these, I’ll keep the secret ok?” the black-haired child stared at you silently grinning, you intuited that it’s because he didn’t understand you. The other child appeared, peculiar as they were, they also seemed good natured and they were just the messengers, for that you decided to let them go and went to your room for the night.

Every week, for the last couple months, they left a bouquet with the most perfect flowers, sometimes they left huge bouquets of roses, other times they had already given you before, but according to the little book they gave you, they were all declarations of love, admiration for your character and beauty, on some occasions the children said a few words to you, almost always they made a mistake in a word, it seemed that they were still learning English and that made it more adorable, it was obvious that someone sent them, the children would not have as much consistency seeing how restless they are.

One delivery was very special, the day after you had to sing in front of the congregation in praise of Satan, hours later, when you returned to your room after dinner, your room was full of carnations and roses, along with a note, talking about how elevated your admirer felt to have had the privilege of hearing you sing at mass, drinking the poems that fall from your breath, how he could not stop seeing your lips when you spoke and your luminous eyes when lighting the candles.

That made you feel so loved, so cared for, your eyes filled with tears that someone could really see you like this, but they were also tears of longing peaking from your eyes, longing for that person to speak to you tête à tête. Being able to feel in your own flesh that admiration that he expresses so much with flowers, even so you smile looking at the moon through your window, wishing you could conjure the name of who makes love to you.

The following week, before going to mass, you saw the little ones who have sent you the flowers, running around, they begin to surround a sister, one behind and one in front, the brown-haired one shows her something between his hands, distracting her while the other little one with black hair lifts her skirt from behind, then run away laughing, she yells terrible things at them, when you get closer you hear someone tell her that they are just children, justifying them, but not on your watch. You go to look for them in a corner inside the church to reprimand them and find out who is responsible for them.

You find them with a man who is scolding them strictly, crouching in front of them, and yet he spoke affectionately, you approach him to tell him about the matter and also tell those little ones how wrong that was, the pair weren’t laughing anymore.

“... stavamo giocando” said the one with brown hair, the other boy was silent and looking at you.

“In english, Secondo, you must practice” the man reminded them “You must respect the sorelle and everyone in here, you will get a lot more out of people the good way, especially if one of you ends up being the leader of the…”

“Fratello!” yells the black hair boy.

“Terzo, I’m speaking” he straightens his hair “Those are not proper games, and father doing it does not mean you should too…”

“Fratello!” yell the children louder.

The young man follows the glances of the little ones, turning his head and looks at you, a pale young man becomes even paler when he stands up suddenly, you smile at him and cross your arms, the children whisper things in each other's ears, twin things, you think.

“These two are going to be the terror of the ministry one day, eh?” you tell them, neither dares to say anything “Sister Lily is very upset, young men, you should apologize. Lifting a lady’s skirt is unacceptable. I shall tell about this to your tutor, or whoever…”

“That’s me” the man swallows hard looking at you terrified “These are my little brothers. I’m afraid they already are the terror of the ministry” he smiles coyly at you, brushing his blonde hair with his fingers, you find him rather handsome with his red vest, cream colored shirt with rolled up sleeves and burgundy pants.

“I’ll keep my eye on you two, they’ve been doing mischief on me too, you know” the man immediately tenses up, clenches his fists and turns to see the little ones.

“Secondo! Terzo! What have you done?” He doesn't yell at them, but his voice is as resonant as theirs when you heard them recite.

“Non abbiamo fatto niente” pleads the boy with black hair, he grabs his brother by the arm with a little fear.

“Only what you order, promise, Primo” the taller boy speaks and covers his mouth immediately and widens his eyes.

“Bravo, now you remember your english?” He massages his eyebrows in frustration, the poor man who now, thanks to the innocence of his little brothers, you can now identify as Primo, can't find a way to hide his face. You can't be bothered with any of them, the little comedy they invented between them had been extremely charming, your smile doesn't fade, quite the opposite.

“You’re the one who’s been sending me the flowers?” even when it’s heavily implied that he is, you must hear him say it or deny it.

“Well, it depends…” he manages to say, his flustered face was most endearing.

You were so absorbed in each other that you did not notice when the children left laughing at their older brother's ribs, now you can clearly notice the feature that he shares with his little brothers in his left eye which hardly dares to look at you.

“On…?” You urged him to continue with what he was going to say, the poor man had been stunned, he seemed shyer than his face implied, and his little brothers did not seem to be of that withdrawn nature at all.

“On... what do you say?”

“About what?”

“You really wish for me to say it?”

“I don’t wish to torture you, Primo” knowing his name you roll your tongue calling him, he looks excited and fails to conceit his emotions, you think of following a little more of this game of his “Meet me in the green house in ten minutes, I’ll give my answer”

You leave the church, giving a mischievous look, first, you go directly to your room to look for the book that he had sent you, you know that you must search by color to get to what you are looking for, you read while you walk almost running towards the garden.

Every second that passed, Primo counted as if it were a year, every step echoed in his head just like his heart as he approaches the greenhouse, his little brothers apologized multiple times in several languages, hugging him and kissing him to forgive them for their indiscretion, but he couldn't be mad at them at all, he loves them too much; they follow him quite far without losing sight of him, they are not very sure why, only their instinct tells them that they should be close.

When you come out of the greenhouse, with one hand hidden behind your back, you have already chosen your flower. The understanding that you feel with impresses you, as if you have known him all your life, perhaps because you know that he understands your romantic nature. He walks to you, half hope, half fear.

“Look for a flower, we will make something like a duel, we will get our ideas at the same time and so we will know what we will do from here on” You may have sounded a bit abrupt in your words, making him fear that you're not interested, but it's all part of the game.

You were surprised how quickly Primo was to find his flower, as if he already had it ready, you see the children from afar playing in the gardens, the one with black hair stops to wave at you, you assume it was Secondo, you’re still not sure about their names, the other little one, which you assume is Terzo, pushes him away and takes his place to blow you a kiss. You laugh at how quirky those kids are and how lucky they are to have a man with as good temper as his brother, they certainly require a lot of patience.

“They’re a handful, but I wouldn’t change them for anything” Primo says from behind you, your flower well concealed in your hands and his hands also hidden behind his back. You face him admiring his features, his poise and elegant manners and his language in his letters only make you more certain of your choice.

“Ready?” you count moving the mouth up to three, without making a sound, you both show your flowers at the same time and laugh.

You laugh together because not only did you both took a red flower, which is already a good sign, but it is exactly the same flower, a red cardinal. It must be a sign, it must be destiny, he took that flower both for its meaning and because that was the pot that he dropped when he was enthralled by you the first time he saw you.

#the band ghost fanfic #papa emeritus primo #young primo #papa emeritus i #terzo emeritus #secondo emeritus #papa primo x reader #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #instant crush #say it with flowers

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kmomof4 · 1 year

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Say It With Flowers: A Birthday Fic for @whimsicallyenchantedrose

Happy birthday, Jen!!! I love you dearly and have been so excited to write this fic for your special day!!! I so hope you love it!!! I’ve had this fic in mind since early last fall, I think and I’m so thrilled to finally be able to give it to you! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are and that you enjoy my little offering!!!

All the love and thanks to @snowbellewells and @jrob64 for all their help in crafting this. Their suggestions and comments made it so much better!!! Thank you both, ladies!!!

Summary: Killian Jones, owner of The Jolly Rhododendron, has a new customer who just wants to put a smile on his mom's face. Killian is quite happy to assist Henry Swan in his quest.

Rating: T (one instant of strong language)

Words: Almost 4800

Tags: Birthday Fic, More a Captain Cobra Fic than a CS fic, But Firmly CS at the End, Anti Walsh

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @xarandomdreamx @undercaffinatednightmare @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @superchocovian @pirateprincessofpizza @tiganasummertree @anmylica @cosette141 @motherkatereloyshipper @zaharadessert @jonesfandomfanatic @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @kymbersmith-90 @booksteaandtoomuchtv @wistfulcynic @mie779 @snowbellewells @lfh1226-linda @aprilqueen84 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @pirateherokillian @elfiola @ilovemesomekillianjones @justanother-unluckysoul @poptart-cat-78 @myfearless-love @goforlaunchcee @searchingwardrobes @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @djlbg @cocohook38 @cs-rylie @thisonesatellite @donteattheappleshook @deckerstarblanche @veryverynotgoodwrites @wefoundloveunderthelight @fleurdepetite @alexa-fangirl-forever

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

The bell above the door rang, and Killian Jones looked up from the bouquet of roses he was arranging and made his way out to the front of his shop, The Jolly Rhododendron. A lad of about ten was looking around the shop, a happy smile on his face as he took in all the different arrangements Killian had placed in the cooler and in the front window.

“The library is a little further down, lad,” Killian said with a smile, gesturing to the large book the boy carried under his arm.

The boy startled a bit when Killian spoke, too taken by the large springtime arrangement in the front window to notice him coming in the room.

“Oh, hi!” the boy exclaimed. Killian grinned in response. The boy looked down at the book. “Oh, no. I’m not going to the library.” He approached the counter and laid the book down, opening it to reveal it as a fake book. There were a few treasures in the hollow inside- a picture of the boy and a beautiful blonde woman kneeling next to him, wide smiles on both their faces, a swan keychain, an old fashioned fountain pen, and a postcard from Boston- as well as a few crumpled dollar bills and loose change.

“This is quite the treasure you have there,” Killian said. “What can I help you with?”

“I want to get some flowers for my mom,” the boy explained. “She hasn’t been smiling much lately. She’s been real busy at work, and I just want to do something for her to put a smile on her face.”

“I see,” Killian said. He couldn’t hold back the wide grin on his face at the thoughtfulness of the boy in front of him. “That is a lovely sentiment, young man. Let’s see how much money you have, then I’ll ask you a few questions about your mum and we’ll see what we can come up with, aye?”

The boy beamed. “Aye!” They pulled the dollars and change out of the box and counted out $9.02.

“All flowers have different meanings,” Killian explained, pulling a small round vase out from under the counter. “For example, roses symbolize romance, love, beauty, and courage. And different colors mean different things as well. A yellow rose means friendship and joy, and a thornless red rose means love at first sight. So as we pick different flowers for your mum’s arrangement, we want to make sure the meaning of the flowers accurately expresses what you want to say.” The boy nodded his understanding. “Alright then. You want to put a smile on your mum’s face,” Killian continued.

“Yes, sir. I just want to make her happy.”

“Well then, we need to make sure we have yellow flowers in the arrangement. Yellow flowers in general, mean happiness.”

Killian didn’t think the boy's smile could get any wider. “Yellow is my mom’s favorite color!” he exclaimed.

“Excellent.” Killian pulled a yellow crocus and a daylily out of the cooler. “This is a crocus and it means cheerfulness,” he said, holding it out to the boy. “And the daylily is the Chinese symbol for mother.” He laid the flowers on the counter and went into the back, bringing out an Edelweiss bloom along with some greenery and baby’s breath. “This is Edelweiss, and it…”

“Edelweiss, like in Sound of Music?” the boy interrupted.

Killian grinned. “The very same. Edelweiss means courage and devotion,” Killian continued. “And given your love and devotion to your mum, I think it would be an appropriate bloom for your arrangement. And finally,” Killian turned back to the cooler and pulled out a small bunch of white lilacs. “Lilacs symbolize the love between a child and their mum.”

Killian set to work arranging the blooms in the vase on the counter. He knew the flowers he’d chosen for the arrangement cost a little more than twice as much as what the boy had, but he was so impressed with the lad, he wanted to do what he could to aid him in his quest. He was quite willing to double the value of the arrangement without charging the boy any more than what he had. When he was done, the boy handed him the money.

“Thank you, Mr…”

“Jones,” Killian said. “Killian Jones, at your service, Mr…”

“Swan. Henry Swan,” the boy introduced himself.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Henry Swan,” Killian said, holding out his hand to shake. “Thank you for your business, and I hope to see you again soon. I hope your mum likes the flowers you chose for her.”

“I’m sure she will,” Henry said, shaking Killian’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Jones!” He picked up the vase and waved as he left the store, the bell ringing again to announce his departure.

Killian waved back, a wide grin still on his face.

~*~*~

The next day was Saturday and The Jolly Rhododendron was extremely busy now that wedding season was upon them. As Killian was about to leave for the first venue of the day, a tall man with a flop of mousy brown hair entered the store. Something about the man set Killian’s teeth on edge when he heard him demand to see the manager.

“I’m Killian Jones, the owner,” he introduced himself. “How can I help you today?”

“Give me a dozen red roses.”

Killian pressed his lips into a thin line at the man’s rudeness and swallowed his ire.

“I was just on my way out the door to make wedding deliveries, but my assistant, Belle, here…”

“I want you to fill the order,” the man interrupted. Then he shrugged nonchalantly, “But if you don’t want my money…”

Killian took a deep breath, just barely holding onto his temper with both hands. Personally, he’d prefer if the man did take his business elsewhere. He’d never been able to abide rudeness, and given the afternoon ahead of him, he really didn’t need this right now. But it would literally only take a minute to ring up the sale- a dozen red roses was something he kept available at all times- and the sooner he could get the man out of his store, the better.

“Of course, sir. Belle, would you please ring him up, and I’ll go collect the flowers?”

“Sure, Killian,” she answered.

He brought out the gorgeous arrangement a minute later and was gratified that the man seemed to be pleased with the display.

“Thank you for coming in today, sir,” Killian said, handing him the bouquet. He couldn’t quite bring himself to utter his normal parting comment of hoping to see the customer again soon. If this man never darkened the door to his shop again, he’d die a happy man. All he could summon to his face was a bland smile as the man nodded, took the arrangement, and left, the bell above the door announcing his departure.

Killian rolled his eyes. “Good riddance,” he murmured to Belle who nodded with a roll of her eyes. He smiled at the young woman. “Don’t forget to call the AC guy before you leave today, Belle. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“I won’t. See you then, Killian.”

~*~*~

A wide smile broke over Killian’s face as Henry Swan entered his store again. He may have only just met the boy the previous Friday, but he couldn’t deny that he was thrilled to see him again. If more people were as thoughtful as Henry Swan, the world would be a much better place.

“Henry,” Killian exclaimed, “I’m so happy to see you! How did your mum like the flowers?”

Henry’s face lit up. “She loved them, Mr. Jones! I told her what all the meanings of the flowers were, and she almost cried.”

Killian was so happy, he felt his heart might burst. He loved flowers, he loved his job, but it was customers like Henry and circumstances like this that really made him so thankful to be living his dream.

“That is wonderful, Henry. I’m so glad to hear it,” Killian enthused.

“My mom’s boyfriend brought her a dozen red roses on Saturday, and I thought she liked them more than the ones I gave her. She left them on the counter in the kitchen, and my flowers were on her nightstand in her bedroom.” Killian’s brow furrowed slightly as he remembered the rude customer from Saturday with that very order. “But Mom said that Walsh can be too sensitive. He gets put out if he feels like his gifts aren’t appreciated, so she left his out where they could be seen. She said mine were just for her.” Henry beamed and Killian found himself mirroring the action. “She put them where she could see them when she opened her eyes in the morning and when she closed them at night. She said they reminded her of how much she loves me.”

And there was the bursting heart again. It was obvious this boy adored his mother, and that she adored him in return, and having just a small hand in expressing that love filled Killian’s heart to overflowing.

“Thank you so much for coming back and telling me all this, Henry. It does my heart good to see the flowers I provide bring so much happiness.”

He grinned again. “You’re welcome, Mr. Jones. Now I want to get a bigger bunch of flowers for her.” He pulled a couple of folded bills out of his pocket. “I got paid for doing yard work last weekend.”

Killian raised a brow at Henry. “You don’t have something you’re saving up for, lad?”

Henry shrugged. “No, not really. Mom works really hard, and I know she loves me, so I just want to show her how much I love her back.”

Killian smiled gently at him. “Very well. How much do you have today?”

“Twenty-five dollars.”

“Ok, then.” Killian paused, thinking for a moment. “You want to show your mum how much you love her. So in addition to some yellow flowers for her favorite color and to express joy and happiness, let's add some carnations. Carnations symbolize love, with different colors adding meaning and nuance. For example, a white carnation symbolizes a sweet or a pure love, which would be very appropriate to give as a gift to your mum. A pink carnation means gratitude and that you’ll never forget her.” Killian pulled the different flowers out of the cooler as he spoke and laid them on the counter where a new vase waited.

“What about a yellow carnation, Mr. Jones?” Henry asked.

Killian chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend a yellow carnation, lad.”

“Why not?”

“Yellow carnations are a symbol of disappointment or rejection.”

“Ohhhh,” Henry acknowledged. “Yeah, no yellow carnations.”

“And how about one more flower?” Killian asked, moving to the back where he kept some of the more expensive blooms in the shop. He returned a few moments later. Henry’s eyes got wide as saucers as he looked at the Calla lily in his hand. “This is a Calla lily, Henry. It signifies faithfulness, and the pink color means appreciation and admiration.”

“That’s great, Mr. Jones!” Henry exclaimed.

Killian grinned as he began arranging all the blooms in the waiting vase. Once again, the value of the flowers was about twice the amount Henry had available, but Killian couldn’t care less. It made him happy to make the young man in front of him happy, and it was his own shop, after all. He could do whatever he wanted.

“Thanks again, Mr. Jones,” Henry said, waving as he headed toward the door.

“You’re welcome, Henry,” Killian said, returning the wave. “Hope to see you again soon!”

“Oh, you will,” he assured him. “I’ll see you again next week.”

“Until then, lad.”

Killian couldn’t wipe the grin he was sporting off his face if he tried. So he didn’t.

~*~*~

The next day, the same man from the week before entered the shop. Belle was on wedding duty today, so Killian was stuck having to serve the rude man. He struggled to keep from rolling his eyes as the jerk approached the counter.

“How much is the arrangement in the window? The one with the sunflowers? Yellow is my girlfriend’s favorite color, and I know red means love, so I thought she’d like that arrangement.”

“It’s $75,” Killian said, the wheels in his head turning. “But the yellow carnations in the arrangement might not be what you want to give your girlfriend.”

“Eh,” the man dismissed. “I’m not worried about it. She won’t care about the meanings. I’m sure she’ll love it.” He pulled out his credit card and handed it to Killian. Walsh Ozman was the name printed on the card, and Killian’s suspicions crystallized fully. Storybrooke was too small a town for the man in front of him not to be Henry’s mum’s boyfriend.

“Your girlfriend wouldn’t happen to have a son named Henry, would she?” he asked as he rang up the purchase.

Walsh startled at his unexpected question. “She does, as a matter of fact,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “What business is it of yours?”

Killian raised an eyebrow and handed the man his card back. “It’s not good form to try to impress your girlfriend by showing up her kid, you know.”

The man glowered, his face turning a deep shade of red. “Why don’t you just mind your own business?” he asked, turning away. Killian could hear him muttering to himself as he grabbed the arrangement from the window. “Last time I buy flowers here. Nosy busybody. The Jolly Rhododendron. What a stupid name…”

The bell rang signaling the asshole’s departure and Killian couldn’t be happier, both for the fact that the man was gone and for his muttered comments.

~*~*~

For the third Friday in a row, Henry entered the shop, a wide grin on his face.

“Hello again, Henry!” Killian greeted him. “How did your mum like last week’s flowers?”

“She loved them again, Mr. Jones,” Henry exulted. “This time when I told her what the flowers meant, she really did cry! Then she hugged me so tight I could barely breathe, and we went out and got pizza for dinner.” Killian laughed with delight even as Henry’s grin disappeared. “But she also said she didn’t want me spending the money I earned on more flowers for her. Or my birthday money. She said she knows I love her and she wants me to use the money for something I want for myself. So she gave me another $25 to replace what I’d spent on the flowers.” Henry’s lips curved in a smirk and a mischievous twinkle sparked in his eye as he continued. “But she can’t tell me what to spend my birthday money on, as long as it’s on something I want. So now, with my birthday money I got this week, I have a hundred dollars, and none of it is earned, so Mom can’t object that I’m not spending the money I earned on something for myself.” Henry’s grin reappeared, quite delighted with himself and his plan, and Killian wanted to hug the boy like his mother had done when presented with last week’s flowers.

“So you want to spend all that on more flowers for your mum, lad?” Killian asked, wanting to make sure he understood Henry correctly.

Henry nodded decisively. “Yes, sir. I know Mom doesn’t want me to spend my money on her, but she does so much for me. She works hard to make sure I have everything I need and a lot of what I want. And I don’t want to give her a gift that cost me nothing.” Henry’s voice and countenance were serious, and Killian felt his heart swell with affection for the precocious lad in front of him.

“That sounds like The Gift of the Magi, lad,” Killian commented.

Henry’s face broke out in a wide grin. “I had to do a book report on it last winter.”

Killian nodded. “I see. Ok, then, let's get started. Do you want to keep the same flowers we’ve already used?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well, we’ll add a few more of each of the blooms we’ve already used and then add some different flowers as well.” Killian headed into the back and picked one of the largest vases he had, along with baby’s breath, greenery, and a couple of pink Calla lilies. This arrangement was going to be spectacular. He came back into the front of the shop and started collecting blooms from the cooler. “These are forget-me-nots, and I imagine their meaning is pretty self-explanatory,” he said with a cheeky grin at the boy. Henry grinned right back.

“This is a gardenia. Here, smell it,” he said, offering the stalk to him. Killian watched him carefully. Gardenias were a type of flower that one either loved or hated because their scent was so strong. He hoped Henry was the former.

“Wow!” Henry exclaimed. “That’s really nice.”

“I’m glad you like it, Henry,” he said, fitting the stalk of blooms into the arrangement. “It means ‘you’re lovely.’” He pulled out two long stalks of honeysuckle. “And this is…”

“Honeysuckle,” Henry interrupted. “I know what that is. There’s a huge bush of it that lines a fence near my house.” That mischievous glint reappeared in his eye, and Killian had to smile. “I sometimes pick the flowers and get the honey when I pass by.”

“Don’t blame you, lad,” Killian said with a chuckle. “Honeysuckle represents the bonds of love.” He finished the arrangement and turned it around to show Henry. The boy’s eyes were as big as saucers, and Killian could see the shine of tears in their corners.

“It’s beautiful, Mr. Jones,” Henry whispered. “Thank you so much.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew the cash he carried.

“That will be $50, lad,” Killian informed him. Henry’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Is that all? I wanted a bouquet for $100.”

Killian came around the counter and knelt down in front of Henry, looking him square in the eye. “Henry, I’m going to have to side with your mum on this one,” he told him. “Each of the arrangements I’ve made for you have exceeded the amount of money you had to spend on them. The sentiments you’ve expressed for your mother touched my heart in a very profound way, and I wanted to do what I could to aid you in your quest to bring your mum some joy and show her how much you love her. And as the owner of The Jolly Rhododendron, I can charge whatever I want for any arrangements I make. Flowers can be very expensive, and I don’t feel right charging a child, with no reliable means for earning money, the full amount for these flowers. Especially after I confronted your mum’s boyfriend last weekend over the way he was competing with you to try and impress her.”

Henry’s eyes got big. “Walsh got his bouquet here?” he asked, surprised.

“He did,” Killian confirmed. “I saw his name on his credit card and he also said his girlfriend’s favorite color was yellow. So I put two and two together and called him out on his presumption and arrogance.”

Henry laughed. “When I saw the flowers, I told Mom what the yellow carnations meant. Walsh got so flustered and embarrassed, Mom told me to go work on my homework while she calmed him down.”

“Now this way,” Killian continued, “you have a truly beautiful arrangement, full of meaning to give to your mum, to show her how much you love her. While I’m not charging you the full amount for it, it is costing you quite a bit of money. So both you and your mum can be happy. Do you understand what I’m saying, Henry?”

Henry nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Killian rose to his feet. “Good.” He went back around to the register and rang up the sale. “Give me just a minute. I’ll be right back.” Henry nodded, and Killian moved into the back where Belle was working on an arrangement for one of the weddings scheduled for the next day. “Henry is back and I think I want to deliver this week’s flowers personally, Belle,” he informed her. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Okay, Killian.”

Killian came back out to the front and pulled the store’s truck keys out of his pocket, tossing them in the air and catching them again. “How would you like to ride in the flower truck, Henry?”

The grin on the boy’s face exceeded all of Killian’s expectations. “Really?” he exclaimed.

“Really,” he affirmed. “I want to deliver this arrangement to your mum personally.”

“Yeah!” Henry charged out the door, the bell dinging madly, and ran for the truck parked out front. Killian hurried to catch up with him. Once he was buckled into the front seat, the arrangement in his lap nearly hiding him from sight, Killian moved around to the driver's seat.

“You alright there, lad?” he asked. Henry had asked to hold the arrangement while they drove, but Killian was still a bit apprehensive.

“I’m fine.” Henry was all but bouncing in his seat, and Killian couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

“What’s your address?”

“815 Oak Street.”

Killian nodded. He knew exactly where that was. It only took a few minutes to drive from the shop to Henry’s home, and when they pulled up, they saw a neon green Corvette parked in the driveway. Killian’s brow furrowed as he moved to the passenger side and opened the door for Henry, taking the arrangement off the boy’s hands.

“Do you recognize that car, Henry?”

“Yes,” Henry said, a note of chagrin coloring his words. “It’s Walsh’s.”

They approached the front porch where Walsh stood with a huge bouquet of his own. The door opened revealing a beautiful blonde woman, who could only be Henry’s mum. The same woman from the photograph he’d seen in Henry’s treasure box two weeks before. Killian gulped hard.

No sooner had she opened the door, when her eyes landed on him and Henry as they climbed the steps to the porch.

“Walsh, Henry!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Come on in. I mean, what are you doing here?” she asked, her gaze settling on Walsh. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow.”

Now that they were close enough, Killian could see her eyes were a brilliant green, and he scratched behind his ear when her gaze landed on him.

“Who’s this, Henry?” she asked as she opened the door for them all to come in the house.

“This is Killian Jones, Mom,” Henry introduced. “He’s the owner of the flower shop where I’ve been getting your flowers.”

Killian didn’t miss the sneer on Walsh’s face as Henry introduced him, and apparently his mother didn’t either. Her brow furrowed as she held out her hand to shake his. He had to jostle the arrangement he held just a bit, but he finally managed it and took the woman’s hand.

“Killian, this is my mom, Emma Swan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma,” he said, sincerely. “You have a fine lad here.” Emma smiled and Killian was struck by the resemblance between her smile and her son’s.

“You’ve been the one making all those arrangements?” she asked. “They’ve been so beautiful. And when Henry explained all the meanings behind the flowers…” she trailed away, getting just a bit choked up. “Thank you,” she breathed.

“It was my pleasure,” Killian assured her, holding out the new bouquet.

Emma turned an exasperated but pleased smile on her son, as she took the arrangement and set it on the small table in the entryway where they all still stood.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want you to be spending your money on me, young man,” she chastised him gently, with no real heat in her tone.

Henry at least had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “I know, but I did spend my birthday money on something I wanted. I wanted to buy you more flowers. And Mr. Jones didn’t charge me the full amount, so while this gift cost me something, it didn’t cost me everything. So everyone can be happy.” Henry grinned and turned his big brown eyes on his mum, and Killian could see the moment when she relented.

The other man standing a bit off to the side huffed in indignation. “What about mine? Don’t you like the flowers I bought you?” he asked. He turned his sneer onto Killian, who could feel his hackles rising in response. “And what do you mean not charging the full amount? Have you been cheating me all along? This guy is nothing but a busybody and know-it-all who should keep his nose out of other people's business.”

Killian had had enough. It was one thing to take rudeness from a customer in a place of business- it came with the territory- but to be accused of cheating his customers, and in front of Henry and his mum, he wasn’t going to stand for it.

He squared his shoulders and looked Walsh right in the face. “Okay, first of all, being the owner of a flower shop, I think I should know a lot about the products I’m selling,” Killian asserted. “And second, I do not cheat my customers. As I told Henry earlier, I didn’t feel right about charging a child the full value of these flowers. He simply wanted to make his mum smile, and I was going to do what I could to help him with that aim.” He cast his gaze around the room and noticed Emma’s eyes narrowed as she looked at her boyfriend.

“Is that why you’ve been buying me all these flowers, Walsh?” she asked, her voice filled with ire. “You’ve been jealous of my kid buying me flowers? Are you kidding me? Who does that?” She paused for a moment, and looked around the room at all of them. “You know what? You can keep your flowers and you can get out of my house! And in case that wasn’t clear enough, we are done. I don’t want to see you again.”

“But Emma,” Walsh whined.

“No buts, Walsh. Get out!” She opened the door and waited for Walsh to leave with the proverbial tail between his legs.

Killian couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction he felt at the man’s comeuppance. This magnificent woman was no fool, and Killian was thoroughly besotted already. As soon as the door was shut, she turned back to them, a small smile on her face.

“I’m sorry you guys saw that, but I’m definitely not sorry it happened.” She moved closer to Henry and ruffled the hair on his head. “And I know you’re not upset about all this.”

Henry shrugged. “I just want to see you happy, Mom. And I didn’t think he was making you happy.” She draped her arm around Henry’s shoulders and turned her smile on Killian.

“So what do these new flowers all mean, Henry? Or would you rather answer, Killian?”

“Oh, I think Killian would like to answer that. Maybe over a cup of coffee?” The grin Henry turned on his new friend rivaled the sun, and Killian couldn’t help but scratch behind his ear in nervousness. He’d never thought he would need a ten-year-old to play wingman for him, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Ah,” he said, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach, “I’d actually love to take you out for a cup of coffee, Emma. If you would be amenable.”

“I think that could be arranged,” she said, a smile matching Henry’s gracing her face.

“I actually don’t have to be back at the shop for a little while, so would now be a good time? To join me for some libations?” he asked, holding his elbow out for her to take if she so chose. She glanced at Henry before looping her arm through his.

“I’d love to.”

Henry could hardly contain his excitement, all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Bye, guys,” he said, opening the door for them. “Have fun! Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll get my homework done while you’re gone.”

Killian couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he escorted Emma down the front walk to his truck. He had the feeling that this was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. As beautiful as the flowers he loved so much. As beautiful as the woman by his side.

The End

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I’d love to hear what you thought! Happy birthday, Jen!

#say it with flowers #birthday fic for jen #krystal writes #art by krystal

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