Chapter Text
It’s a routine, if not slightly boring Tuesday the first time Eggsy opens the shop by himself. He gets there early and whistles along with the birds as he waters the flowers and sweeps the fallen petals off the floor. He takes his time checking on the flowers, his deft fingers easily plucking away stray weeds and dead bulbs. He has extra yellow daisies in the back, and there’s always an abundance of baby’s breath and various greens he normally uses as fillers.
He ends up snipping a small handful of the daisies, bulking them out with odds and ends of other white and yellow flowers that would otherwise end up in the rubbish. He surrounds the flowers with thin layers of baby’s breath and fern leaves, wraps all of the stems in green rubber bands, and places the arrangement in one of the shop’s spare vases that is filled with water and has a yellow ribbon tied in a bow around the neck.
Satisfied with his work, Eggsy loads the drawer into the cash register, ties on his shop apron, and opens the door to Persephone’s Garden five minutes before their scheduled open. He receives no customers during the first hour he’s open, so he sprawls his books across the service counter, pulls up a chair, and balances his sales and purchases from the last week.
Roxy Morton walks into the shop at half past ten, and Eggsy squirts her with one of the various spray bottles scattered around the shop. She shoves him affectionately, and slips behind the counter, pulling a pristine apron with the flower shop’s logo embroidered at the top out from underneath the cash register.
“I thought you said you was gonna be late,” Eggsy says, reaching out to hold Roxy’s hair up as she ties the apron around her neck.
“I was late, Eggsy,” she replies, smoothing her hair down when her apron is secured. She smiles fondly at him and then notices the flowers at the edge of the counter. “I see you’ve been busy already,” she comments, reaching a hand out to straighten a drooping fern leaf.
Eggsy shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and grins. “I couldn’t help myself,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “We had extra that weren’t gonna be used, and it’s Daisy’s birthday tomorrow. Figured it’d be cause for a celebration.”
Roxy turns her smile towards Eggsy and rolls her eyes. “You’re going to spoil her,” she chastises gently, crossing behind him to look at the books, eyes skimming over Eggsy’s nearly illegible scrawl. “Please tell me you used a calculator this time.”
Eggsy smiles sheepishly and mumbles incoherently under his breath.
Roxy takes his actions as a loud “no”, huffs at him, and picks up the books with a slight frown marring her face. “Well then, I’m going to go in the back and fix these. You man the counter like you normally do.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Eggsy mock salutes her, clicking his heels together as he stifles a snicker.
Roxy rolls her eyes and casually pecks a kiss to Eggsy’s cheek as she passes. “I mean it,” she continues, slipping out of his line of sight. “Mrs. Milverton is coming in today to pick up her daughter’s order, so you need to be on your best behavior.”
Eggsy freezes in his spot, his eyes widening as he hears the news. He whispers expletives under his breath as he goes about cleaning off the counter, spraying the glass countertop and wiping the moisture time after time until every smudge is gone and the glass is shiny enough Eggsy can use it as a mirror. More vile phrase escape him, and the more he talks, the more he finds his hands wandering to fiddle with things, so he ambles around the store and adjusts each of the small displays they have. He straightens the posters on the wall, and wipes off the small table they use for consultations.
When he finally completes his circuit and the shop looks pristine, he goes back to stand behind the counter, hands absentmindedly reaching for the spray bottle of cleaner and a rag so he can continue cleaning the spotless counter. He is halfway through a slew of phrases so colorful, he’s sure would give a nun a heart attack when he realises he’s not alone. Looking up from the counter to meet the most beautiful brown eyes he’s ever seen, Eggsy pauses mid ramble, feels his eyes widen to the size of tea saucers, and whispers once more, “Shit.”
The eyes belong to a man that is currently standing at the counter. As Eggsy takes in the rest of him, it becomes undeniable to him that the rest of the man is just as gorgeous as his eyes. He is wearing a pristine, grey pinstripe suit, a perfectly crisp white shirt, and a blue and pink striped tie knotted perfectly around his neck. The very corners of his lips are turned up in a hint of a smile, and those brown eyes are sparkling with mirth behind sleek glasses. “I’d like to order some flowers, please,” he says in a voice that reminds Eggsy of expensive whiskey. “That is, if that’s all right by you.”
Eggsy feels his throat swallow a handful of times as he nods dumbly, hands groping under the counter for the ordering pad and a pencil. “Yeah,” he mumbles, unable to tear his eyes away from the beautiful stranger long enough to see where he’s grabbing. “That shouldn’t be a problem. Yeah.”
“Very good,” the stranger says, reaching into his suit jacket to pull out a small, neatly folded piece of notepad paper. “I’m looking for these four flowers, specifically. I understand that some might be difficult, if not impossible to procure, and I am willing to wait.”
He hands the list to Eggsy and waits in silence as he reads the words he had written. He murmurs the names of the flowers- Geranium, purple roses, cherry blossoms, yellow lilies- and thinks about what these flowers are trying to say- stupidity and folly, love at first sight, fragility of human life and-
“I’m walking on air?” he says out loud, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“I beg your pardon?” the stranger says, tilting his head to the side.
Eggsy looks up at the man from the paper in his hands and whistles low through his teeth. “Are these for a bird, mate?” he asks, letting the paper fall from his hands to settle on the counter. “Because if so, this is the most confusing bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen.”
The man in front of him goes still, as if contemplating what Eggsy meant. “I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. “But I’m not quite sure what you mean. How are the flowers confusing?”
Eggsy feels his jaw fall slightly open at the question, and it takes a large amount of self control not to gape openly at the stranger. “Well, mate,” he manages after a moment, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Every flower has a meaning.”
The stranger nods at him, silently waiting for him to continue.
“Er, well, that means that every bouquet is composed of several meanings from the different flowers. And, to be honest, what you’re asking for makes no bloody sense.”
“And what is it,” the man begins, reaching a hand out to tap on the list, “that I’m asking for?”
Eggsy swallows thickly around the lump that has formed quickly in his throat and counts to five slowly before he replies. “Well, the geraniums mean that someone’s stupid. The purple roses mean that the giver loved the receiver on first sight. When you combine the two, it could mean regret for that love, but then you add in the cherry blossoms which represent how fragile life is. Those three make sense together, regretting a loved one’s death. But then the yellow lillies, they mean-”
“I’m walking on air,” the stranger repeats, nodding again. “Yes, I see now how they make everything confusing. I do apologise, I was not taught the language of flowers as a young boy.”
Eggsy nods dumbly and tries his hardest to keep a blush from tinting his cheeks. “Yeah, well, I grew up in it,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Me mum owned this store ever since I can remember. She’d take me in with her when I wasn’t at school, and I’d get to sit in the back and listen to her talk as she took care of the flowers.”
The man smiles at him. “It sounds like you admire your mother very much,” he says. “Does she happen to be in today?”
Eggsy shakes his head. “Nah. She handed over the keys to me not long after my little sister was born. Says she wants to do right by Daisy, really be a mum this time.”
“Ah, so you’re the owner then?” the stranger asks, raising a single eyebrow in question.
“Yeah I am,” Eggsy says, meeting the man’s gaze with a smile, offering his hand to be shaken. “Name’s Eggsy Unwin.”
The stranger takes his hand firmly and shakes it once. “Charmed, Eggsy. I am Harry Hart.”
Eggsy repeats Harry’s name a few times in his head and nods dumbly, his hand still holding on to Harry’s. It takes a few moments for Eggsy to come back to himself, dropping Harry’s hand with a sharp intake of breath. “So are they for a bird, then?” Eggsy babbles, trying not to wring his hands awkwardly in front of his torso. “The flowers, I mean?”
The man shook his head. “They are for a woman, yes,” he begins, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “but not in the way you’re thinking; it’s for a client of mine.”
Eggsy nods mindlessly again, fingers crinkling around the list. “A client. Right,” he repeated, dropping his gaze to his hands. “Well, I’ll see what we have in the back and make some phone calls for the rest. Do you wanna pay now or when you pick them up?”
“I can pay now,” Harry replies, pulling out a billfold from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, deft fingers pulling out just the right amount of bills.
Eggsy collects them, puts them in the cash register, and hand-writes out Harry’s receipt with shaky fingers. He smudges the ink a time or two on the paper, and when he hands it to Harry, the other man is offering him a pristine, white, likely pressed, handkerchief.
“For the ink on your hands,” Harry explains, taking the receipt, folding it perfectly in half before tucking it inside his billfold. “Wouldn’t want you to stain your clothes. Or the flowers,” he adds.
Eggsy feels his cheeks grow hot as he hastily wipes at the black smudges marring his skin. The ink soaks into the cloth, and Eggsy inwardly curses as he realises that it will likely stain something horrible. When his hands are mostly clean, he shoves the handkerchief back at Harry, a murmured apology falling from his lips.
Harry just smiles at him as he tucks the now spotted cloth back into his pocket. “It’s no trouble,” he assures him, his voice soft and gentle. He pauses to check the time, fingers pulling a shiny, silver pocket watch from his trousers, his smile fading as he notes the time. “I’m afraid I must be going. I have a very important meeting I need to attend. Shall I stop by again next week to pick up the order?”
“Y-yeah,” Eggsy stutters, blinking owlishly as Harry tucks his pocket watch away. “You can come on Monday. That should give me enough time to track down the cherry blossoms.”
“Excellent,” Harry says, nodding once at him. He offers his hand once more to Eggsy and murmurs, “it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Unwin.”
Eggsy grasps at Harry’s hand and does his best to prevent his brain from short-circuiting at Harry’s warmth. “You as well, Mr. Hart,” he croaks, wincing as his voice breaks mid-sentence.
Harry’s mouth turns up at the corners in an amused smirk, and then, he’s turning away from Eggsy and walking out the door. Eggsy can’t help but stare slack-jawed as he goes, mesmerised by the whole encounter. Unfortunately, he can’t spend any time ruminating on what just happened, for Mrs. Milverton strides through the door to Persephone’s Garden not ten minutes later, demanding the order for her daughter. Sighing, Eggsy forces on his most charming smile and continues cursing the bitter old hag in his mind.