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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 months

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Kiss from a rose

Flower shop owner Cass x Baker Marinette for my wife @boldlyanxious. happy early birthday congrats on Age

Marinette stood under the awning of her shop, frowning at the thick droplets of rain threatening to soak her in seconds if she dared to step out from under it. The forecast that morning had suggested a zero percent chance of rain. They had insisted that the clouds overhead were simply the classic Gotham pollution that they all knew and hated. But no. It was pouring. She hoped that the news anchor would get targeted by the mob again. They deserved it.

Okay, perhaps she was being dramatic. She was annoyed, though. She hated rainy days. They made her tired and irritable. Always had, always will.

If she had her way, she would close up shop the moment the asphalt darkened.

Unfortunately, rainy days were great for business, people would be more than happy to ward off the chill with a warm pastry, to enjoy the natural heat that radiated from the ovens no matter how much AC they blasted.

They were also basically every day in Gotham.

At this rate, she would retire early. Which would be great. Maybe she could retire somewhere where it didn’t rain as much.

In order to do that, though, she should probably get back to work soon. Adrien, while good at the customer service part of things, wasn’t all that great at the actual baking part of working at a bakery, and they had been getting dangerously low on low-price items. She glanced back through the window, at people casually chatting and eating, then at Adrien, manning the register.

He caught her gaze and sent her a mildly exasperated look. She checked the time. They would be closing up soon, and they had… well, it would be tight, but it definitely wasn’t worth making another batch this late in the day.

Which meant that her job for the day was pretty much done.

She could see the exact second he realized this, too. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

But this was quickly wiped away in favor of his best smile because a customer had finished their brownie and was in dire need of another.

She snickered to herself, mentally promising to make a quick batch of passionfruit macarons as an apology as she went back to glaring at her mortal enemy: the weather.

But then unexpected movement out of the corner of her eyes drew her attention.

It was the flower shop a few places down. The woman that ran it was quietly gathering the displays she had left out, looking just as annoyed by the rain as Marinette. But probably for a better reason, seeing as the water could easily mess up her displays and deter people from buying from her.

Still, Marinette felt a kinship with the woman.

Maybe that was why she offered to help her take the boxes of flowers in.

The woman – ‘Cass’, according to the sign above the door declaring this her flower shop – looked mildly confused for a moment. She looked at the box of flowers in her hands, briefly, as if processing the idea, and then eyed Marinette up and down. She hesitated, before sending a tiny, grateful smile and nodding.

Marinette helped gather boxes and take them inside. It was slow moving, since Marinette didn’t want to risk accidentally ruining any of the flowers (she wasn’t sure whether they would ‘expire’ at the end of the day like the goods her bakery sold, but she wasn’t going to risk it in case they wouldn’t), and the woman didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. The store was cold, especially in comparison to Marinette’s bakery, but that probably wasn’t helped by the fact that neither of them were particularly dry. It was silent, save for the rain outside, and though she remembered being told once that Cass was mute and that that was the reason for the woman’s quietness, she couldn’t help but feel that it was a little awkward to work in silence like that.

So, she filled the silence. Talking about how this one movie from the other day had been painfully boring and that she needed to avoid it at all costs, if only for the sake of her own sanity. Rambling on and on about all of the different times that Adrien (her roommate, who she could not stress enough was her roommate, and by the way he was just a roommate) had nearly killed both of them trying to cook, whether that be by exploding a microwave or by poisoning them. Running down her to dos for the next few days and mentioning that she needed to buy more flour for the shop. And then, when Cass had sent her a mildly amused look, said flour not flower. Then she decided that, actually, maybe her shop could do with a couple of flowers, a pop of color could do them nicely, but they would have to be scentless, or the entire eating experience would be ruined. Cass had looked confused, so she had had to quickly explain that taste is actually largely based on smell, and sometimes smell can rub off on foods, so people who serve food are actually required to ensure that they never smelled too much – whether good or bad.

She was… definitely talking the woman’s ear off, but she didn’t seem to actually mind all that much, smiling faintly.

At least until Marinette was done helping her.

But, when Marinette made a move to leave, she held up her hands, briefly holding up a finger in the near-universal ‘one second’ gesture.

Marinette watched as the woman flitted about her shop, her lips pursed in thought, a tiny wrinkle between her brows, her cheeks puffed out the slightest bit. She was… extremely expressive. Marinette figured that was probably because she almost definitely used sign language, which Marinette admittedly didn’t know too much about, but she knew that a lot of meaning in sign language was conveyed not actually through the signs themselves, but instead facial expressions. Or, at least, that was what she had guessed by the few interactions with deaf customers she’d had – Adrien was the polyglot, not her.

Either way, the expression was kind of cute.

It was, perhaps, because of that particular line of thought that it took her longer than it should have to realize what was going on. It wasn’t until she saw the woman start arranging the flowers into a careful bouquet that she realized what, exactly, was going on. Marinette’s eyes widened. She did not know that much about plants, save for the edible ones, but she knew enough to know that bouquets were probably expensive.

“I don’t – here, let me run back to my shop and get some money.”

She shook her head and paused briefly, if only to pull a pad of paper out from behind the desk and start writing.

They are to thank you. If you pay for it, I’ll have to thank you again.

Marinette smiled bemusedly. “What a tragedy that would be, getting a bunch of flowers from a pretty lady.”

Cass sent her a look that was surely meant to be stern, but there was amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes.

The paper crinkled in that same gentle way as she tied off the ribbon and offered it to her.

She hesitated, before carefully taking it into her hands. The bouquet certainly smelled floral, but not to the point where it was overwhelming, though that was hardly what most people focus on. Still, it was nice that Cass had taken that into consideration.

As for the flowers themselves… the bouquet was made up of vibrant yellows and soft whites. Marinette tried to pick out what any of them might be. She thought that a couple of them could have been daisies, but don’t quote her on that.

“I’m guessing that all of these have hyper specific meanings?”

Cass nodded, giving her a briefly amused look before starting to write them out. Then, she scribbled over the words and wrote something else. Unfortunately for her, Marinette was nosy, and therefore she squinted long and hard at the section that had been crossed out to try and decipher what she’d originally been trying to say:

Agrimony means gratefulness. White carnations and yellow daisies are about how you’re really sweet and I want you to be happy. Mayflower and Queen Anne’s Lace together usually convey a sense of ‘welcome to my place’.

Basically, I’m really thankful.

Marinette’s eyes widened. She looked down at all of the different flowers. She had been mostly joking about the flowers all having some sort of secret code – she’d heard of flower language, of course, vaguely, in passing – but that was… a lot. It was interesting, knowing how much thought could go into all of the different parts of a bouquet, how it all came together to convey a specific feeling. She wondered if adding or taking away a single flower could change the meaning entirely.

She sent Cass a hesitant smile. “Don’t know how you can keep up with all of that.”

Cass rolled her eyes, waving her compliment off easily.

I don’t know how you can make all of those sweets in time for the breakfast rush.

Marinette felt a faint blush creep across her cheeks. “Well, first, you have to wake up super early.”

Cass looked as if she would rather die. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh at the way her entire face scrunched up in disgust at the mere idea of waking up early.

She could only shrug. “The struggles of a small business owner.”

Tell me about it, Cass wrote, before leaning back against the desk heavily, as if even the memory of work was enough to make her feel faint.

Marinette giggled. “I’d love to, but we should probably get back to our jobs as small business owners and all.”

Cass gave a clearly overexaggerated pout (Marinette wasn’t sure quite how to explain how she knew that this particular overexaggerated expression was more for the sake of a joke than the overexaggerated expressions the woman always did, but there was a definite difference), and Marinette could only laugh and lift her hand in a lazy kind of wave as she headed to the door.

A hand caught her sleeve before she could reach the door, and Marinette wouldn’t even pretend in the privacy of her own head that the reason she was hesitating was just because she didn’t yet want to brave the rain.

The woman hesitated, before offering her another flower. It did not quite go with the bouquet – where the bouquet was white and yellow, this flower was white and pink. Still, it was pretty. And, for the first time, as she gently took it into her free hand and started looking it over, she was pretty sure she recognized them.

“Almonds?” she said.

Cass’s eyes gleamed. She nodded eagerly.

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at the woman’s excitement. “What do they mean?”

She had her trusty notepad on her. But she hesitated this time, her pen hovering over the page.

“Oh, don’t tell me you forgot,” Marinette teased.

Cass’s lips twitched upwards in amusement.

Finally, she started writing.

Help me pack up the next time it rains, and I will tell you. Promise.

Marinette could look it up, of course. It was the modern age. Phones exist and, if she really wanted, it wouldn’t be that difficult to check the moment she left. And she was pretty sure the woman knew that, too, since Marinette had already told her that she was well aware of what flower this was. It wouldn’t be hard to look it up.

The choice was hers.

She smiled faintly, soft petals coming to rest against her lips when she pretended to tap her chin thoughtfully. As if she would ever actually need time to consider her options.

“Promise,” she agreed, quietly wondering if she might have to reassess her hatred of rainy days.

#mgi civil war #cass quality #maribat #cassinette #cassette #lol #cassandra cain #marinette dupain cheng #im a person of color again #<-this joke does not make sense to many people but it was funny i prommy

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