Chapter Text
It was a slow day. They usually took walk-ins on Saturdays, but for some reason, they just weren’t as busy as usual.
Denki picked through his broken flower pot and tried not to sigh.
“Gettin’ real tired of your moping, Static,” Katsuki snapped without even lifting his head from his sketchbook.
“I’m not moping,” Denki told him. He was working on arranging the broken flower pot inside a frame. He’d had to break the bigger pieces into smaller ones so they’d lay flat, and he was almost finished. He liked the way it looked, all laid out like this. Mina had suggested he fill the cracks with gold resin so that was his next step, once he had all the pieces glued down where they were supposed to go.
“Leave him alone,” Eijirou chastised. He was laid chest up on Mina’s table while she tattooed a spot on his belly and he wasn’t even flinching about it. “He’s allowed to be sad.”
“I’m not sad,” Denki said.
“Is that why you’ve spent all your time staring out the window?” Mina asked without lifting her head.
Katsuki snorted and then said, “Mother fucker acts like he’s never been turned down before.”
Denki frowned at him. “It doesn’t happen that often.”
The rest of his sentence sort of trailed off because he saw Hitoshi arrive for work. He had his chin tucked into his scarf, and all he did was walk up and pull open the door to the flower shop, but Denki couldn’t stop replaying it in his mind.
He didn’t get it. Hitoshi was a very pretty man, but Denki had had lots of pretty men. They didn’t usually make him feel like this. He just wished he could stop thinking about him for a day. Just a day. Denki had only spent a grand total of maybe thirty minutes talking to the guy and it had already been two whole weeks since Hitoshi turned him down, so really Denki should be over this now.
“Maybe he knew you’d fuck up his plant,” Katsuki countered. “I’m gonna tattoo a fucking leaf right on the arch of your foot so at least you’ll have one green thing you can’t kill for a while.”
Denki frowned, and peered reflexively at the ivy plant Hitoshi had sold him.
It looked… bad.
He wasn’t sure why since he’d been trying to take good care of it. He’d set it in the window sill so it could get a little sun, and he’d watered it every day, but it was still all yellow and wilty.
“Maybe I’ll add a purple flower,” Katsuki drawled, finally lifting his head and meeting Denki’s eye.
Denki set the pieces of pottery down and hopped off the stool he’d been sitting on.
He grabbed the pothos, and marched out the door without another word, even though he could hear Katsuki laughing at his back as he walked.
When he came through the door to the flower shop, the alpha in the scarf was… possibly sleeping behind the counter.
Denki stared at him for a beat before he craned his head, and peered around the pleasantly dim shop. Denki actually liked it in here a lot. There were green things everywhere and some of the plants had bright lights shining down on them but the lights only lit up the shelves so the shop itself was sort of shadowy.
And it smelled good. Like flowers and fresh rain and also lavender.
“Oh.”
Denki turned his head, heart doing a fearful little flip when he saw Hitoshi standing in the doorway he’d come from the last time Denki had been here. He looked like he’d drawn up short, and Denki saw him duck his chin a little even though he wasn’t wearing his scarf.
It was hanging by the door, and Denki didn’t know what impulse prompted him to take it off the hook and hold it out with a smile, but Hitoshi accepted it with relief Denki could literally smell.
Maybe that was it.
Hitoshi just smelled so fucking good.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Hitoshi said quietly, winding his scarf around his neck. Denki watched him do it and tried not to stare too hard at his hands, and his wrists. He was always in long sleeves, in thin worn shirts that looked like they’d rip easily, and something about his bare hands and wrists looked… beautiful. Denki liked hands, as a general rule, but this felt different. Hitoshi’s were slender, with long delicate fingers and short, clean nails.
He watched Denki in silence, violet eyes narrowed a little. He always looked at Denki like that, like he wasn’t quite sure about him. Denki supposed he wasn’t. He was a careful, standoffish sort of man, and that was part of why Denki hated how much he couldn’t stop thinking about him.
“Hi,” Denki said again, hoping his smile didn’t seem too eager.
“Hi,” Hitoshi replied again, this time with a hint of laughter in his voice and crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Um, my plant isn’t doing very well,” Denki said abruptly, lifting the pothos. “Can you help?”
Hitoshi’s eyes fell to the plant and he had a little wrinkle in his brow when he said, “How often have you been watering it?”
“Every day!” Denki said eagerly. “I was trying to take—” He cut himself off because Hitoshi had huffed out a quiet little laugh.
“That’s too much. You have to let the soil dry between waterings. Come look.” He jerked his head, toward a tall shelf where one of his own plants was dropping vines in a leafy cascade down almost to the floor. He lifted on hand and laid it against the soil in the pot and said, “I’ll water her later tonight. See?”
Denki met his eyes and felt his belly turn over. He rushed forward and stuck one hand in the pot too, even though he was shorter than Hitoshi and had to come up on his tip toes to reach.
“You never came by for a new pot,” Hitoshi said quietly.
Denki tried to think of something charming and clever to say and felt himself blush fiercely when he landed on, “I. I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You wouldn’t have bothered me.”
Denki had to struggle to keep smiling. He had to struggle not to let his emotions scent the room. It was abundantly clear that Hitoshi didn’t like that, and Denki was already entering ‘creeper’ territory by coming here at all since Hitoshi had run away when Denki had asked him out.
It had been stupid. He’d known it wasn’t the right time, had known he should take his time with Hitoshi. He was soft and quiet and mysterious in a way Denki didn’t usually go for. He was normally much more prone to flashy people who drew attention. But Hitoshi just didn’t. He struck Denki as an absolute wallflower, and Denki really couldn’t understand what it was about him that was so… interesting.
And then they’d been alone together and he’d smelled so good it had taken everything in Denki’s power not to reach out and touch him.
“Um, what should I do?” Denki asked, holding up the pothos when he couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t I know you physically ran away the last time I asked but listen I’d still really like to take you out so what do you say?
Hitoshi frowned, and Denki realized he took it as a good sign that he could see Hitoshi’s mouth at all. He hid in his scarf a lot.
“Let’s move her to a bigger pot. She should be okay once she dries out a little. Oh. You wanted to. To paint it,” he added, stopping the motion he’d made toward the flower pots.
“It’s okay,” Denki insisted. “The plain ones are pretty too.”
Hitoshi paused, and smiled, and then shifted his route to pluck a flower pot from the display. “Come on back, I’ve got everything we need.”
He disappeared past the counter and through a doorway. Denki spared one look for the sleeping man behind the counter, and then followed.
“Is he okay?”
“Sensei? He’s fine. He doesn’t get enough sleep,” Hitoshi said absently. He had set the pothos on a wide counter along with the new pot and an open bag of soil. Denki watched him add a few handfuls to the pot.
“Sensei?” he asked.
Hitoshi looked up and met Denki’s eyes from across the table. It was enough to make Denki’s skin prickle. He had the most beautiful eyes Denki had ever seen on a real life person before. And Denki was good friends with Shouto and Izuku so that was saying something. He blinked, his long violet lashes brushing his cheeks, and Denki felt his cheeks flush.
“I’ve known him a long time and I’ve always called him that,” Hitoshi said quietly. “He taught me how to care for all the plants we sell.”
“Um, so what are you doing?” Denki asked, coming forward a little so he could look at Hitoshi’s work. “Can you teach me?”
Hitoshi bit his lip and smiled at the table and if he hadn’t given Denki a very resounding ‘no’ when Denki had asked him out, Denki would have bet good money Hitoshi was into him. It was very confusing.
“Sure,” he said in a low, quiet voice that made all the hair on Denki’s neck stand up. “I’m just going to move it into a bigger pot, and that should help dry it out a little too.The key to re potting is not to shock the plant too much.”
“You can shock plants?” Denki said, coming around the table a little so he could see better. He tried to keep his distance, but Hitoshi angled his body so Denki could see and Denki almost absently slid closer.
“Mhmm. Re-potting can be… traumatic for them. So you want to be gentle. Don’t jostle the roots too much.” Hitoshi slid his long, slender fingers around the body of the pothos, and then just upended the little plastic pot it was in. He turned the whole thing upside down, gave it a wiggle, and the plant and all the soil just came sliding right out. “See?”
Denki wished he did, but he was too busy staring at the soft, intimate expression on Hitoshi’s face as he stared down at the plant. He shook it very gently and some of the sopping wet soil fell from the roots and hit the table.
It felt like it had been a long time since he spoke, and Denki wasn’t even aware he was supposed to answer until Hitoshi lifted his eyes and met Denki’s.
He blinked, almost like he’d forgotten Denki was there, or maybe— maybe Denki was standing too close.
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, taking a step away. “I was just… trying to see.”
Hitoshi smiled at him.
Denki felt like someone had punched him.
“It’s alright. So now that she’s out of her pot, you just set her in the new one like this, and fill in the soil around the root ball. She should be okay. She might wilt a little more, but she’ll perk back up. You can…” He trailed off, and Denki swore his cheeks got pink when he said, “You can bring her back over if you have any trouble and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks,” Denki said. Hitoshi pushed the pot over to him and dropped his eyes to the table again. “You’re. Really good at this stuff, huh?”
Hitoshi seemed to pause for breath, and then he said quietly, “I’ve just been doing it for a while.”
Denki took a chance. It was maybe a chance he should have let pass by. It was maybe pressing just a touch too hard, and he felt a flare of guilt at that. He tried to be the kind of alpha omegas felt safe around, tried really hard, and all his logic was telling him if he wanted to be that alpha he should his new plant and thank HItoshi and go home.
But…
“Nah, it’s more than that,” he said with just a hint of hesitation in his voice. “You love it.”
Hitoshi looked up at him like he was almost shocked, and then looked down at the table, a deep blush rising on his cheeks.
Time to go.
“Thank you,” Denki said quickly, taking the plant from the table.
“Yeah,” Hitoshi muttered, voice low and deep and fuck why did everything he say have to feel like a purr? It sent a delicious chill up Denki’s spine and he zoomed away before he could do something stupid like ask Hitoshi out again even though he really wanted to.
He smelled like lavender and potting soil and fresh rain and Denki sighed deeply when he reached the street, already disappointed that scent of him hadn’t followed Denki outside.
🗲🗲🗲
Denki didn’t look up when the door opened. He was hunched over his table, working up a piece for an appointment he had the day after tomorrow and trying not to think too hard about pretty purple haired omegas; the piece was a floral half sleeve because of course the universe couldn’t make this too easy.
The next thing Denki heard was Katsuki saying his name.
When he looked up, Katsuki was swinging back from the counter, hands in his pockets. He hadn’t even spoken to the two people walking in, and Denki suspected immediately that he knew why.
Two people were coming toward the counter— one, an alpha with long curly hair and two full tattoo sleeves and more work across her chest, the other, a slim, unobtrusive omega with very long, pin straight dark hair pulled over one shoulder. The alpha had her arm around the omega, who was looking around the shop wide eyed and a little hesitant in that way people who had never been in a tattoo shop before had.
Denki smiled at them both and said, “Hey! How can I help you?”
The omega glanced once at the alpha, who urged her forward with a look.
“Are you Denki Kaminari?”
“Yep!” Denki said with another reassuring type smile. “What can I do for you?”
The omega extricated herself from the arms of her friend and ran her fingers through her hair when she said, “I read online that you’re supposed to be really good with uh. With cover ups?”
Denki was pretty sure he knew what she was getting at, but he still said gently, “What are you looking to cover?”
She spent one second chewing her lip, and then carefully lifted her hair off her shoulder, showing Denki the rather grisley results of a mate bite.
“Come right through here so we can talk,” Denki said. He opened the little door that separated the room into two, and urged them back to his table. He had a love seat for them to sit on so they could talk about what she needed with at least a hint of privacy.
The two women followed Denki and sat down when he motioned to the seat. The omega introduced herself as Jo, and the alpha said she was Eve. Eve looked familiar, and Denki wondered if she was one of Mina’s regulars; it was hard to keep track sometimes.
“May I?” Denki asked, once they were all situated. He leaned on the arm of the love seat, and Jo wordlessly moved her hair aside so Denki could get a better look at the scar.
It was definitely one of the worse ones he’d seen; it looked like whoever had left it had come back for more, had left multiple deep marks on her neck and the top of her shoulder.
“I read sometimes you can camouflage scars?” she asked tentatively.
“Sometimes,” Denki told her. “Honestly, I don’t think that’s the best option here. Usually I’ll do that for smaller, less, uh, noticeable marks.”
“It’s bad?” she mumbled.
“You knew it was,” her alpha said gently.
“I’ve seen worse,” Denki told her. He had, but only just barely.
She frowned a little, but then shifted to pull some folded computer paper out of her pocket. “Eve said it might be— uh, I brought some ideas for a tattoo.”
Denki took the paper with a friendly smile and opened it up. It was mostly just stock images pulled from the internet, but it gave Denki an idea of what she liked.
“Would that be okay?” she asked, jerking her chin. “Like, is it big enough, or the right shape or, or whatever?”
“I can work with this!”
It was a great choice, actually— a lotus blossom was the right shape to fully conceal the worst of the scarring, and she showed him some pictures she’d found of his work online that she liked, and a few examples from other artists, so that Denki could see she liked delicate, geometric florals. It wasn’t an exact match for his usual style— if she were any other client, he’d probably refer her to Mina— but no one else here was really comfortable doing what Denki did.
By the end of the conversation, she was looking a lot happier, more excited.
“I’m really happy you trusted me with this piece,” Denki told her. “Do you have any other tattoos?”
She shook her head, and then paused and held out her wrist, where she had a little sun tattooed.
“Tattooing scar tissue is a little different than normal,” Denki told her. “Some places might be more sensitive, depending on how deep the injury was, but some you might not feel at all.” She bit her lip and nodded, and Denki lowered his voice. “Covering old mate scars can be a really emotional experience for some people, and tattooing over scent glands can make those feelings particularly intense.”
She winced, but didn’t drop her eyes.
“That part won’t be comfortable,” Denki said as candidly as he could. “In my experience, in those cases, alpha scenting can be very helpful. Do I have your permission to—”
“Yes,” she interrupted him, a little blush in her cheeks. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
“You can ask me to stop— or, well, start— any time, if you need to. I just want you to be comfortable.”
“Cool! I’ll get you all the info you need, and if you’re free today, I think I could actually schedule you to come back later tonight, say, six?”
❀❀❀
Shouta wouldn’t let Hitoshi live it down.
He wasn’t actually saying anything, but he kept dropping hints. Urging Hitoshi to leave for the day. Talking to Hizashi about wanting a new tattoo. Asking Hitoshi if he thought his ‘little friend’ was any good.
Hitoshi was beyond grateful when they both left for the evening, and left Hitoshi to close the shop.
It had been a slow day, and Hitoshi had uncharacteristically finished his closing chores already; he just wanted to go home. He couldn’t be in the shop anymore without thinking of Denki being just… right across the street. Hitoshi couldn’t shake it, couldn’t stop thinking that Denki would walk back in any minute.
Hitoshi could still smell him, if he thought about it hard enough.
And he was thinking about it very hard. For most of the day. In fact he wasn’t sure he’d woken up in days without Denki’s smiling face popping into his head almost right away. It was… concerning.
He was so fed up with the day, with the strange anxiety of mooning after a man he didn’t even know, that he actually walked over to turn the open sign off five minutes early.
He was just in time to catch a tall, well muscled woman with a lot of tattoos and curly hair rushing toward the shop.
He tugged open the door for her, and was instantly greeted with a scent that was almost familiar but… different somehow.
“Shit, are you closed?”
“Not quite,” Hitoshi said. “How can I help you?”
She stepped into the shop and shoved her hands in her pockets, eyes tracking to the refrigerated bouquets.
“What kinda flowers say ‘your ex was a piece of a shit and he’ll never fuck with you again’ and also ‘I love you?’”
Hitoshi hid a smile. “Uh. Well.”
“Okay, how about just like, ‘I love you.’”
“Easier,” Hitoshi said. “Roses?”
“Seems kinda cliche.”
“Or classic,” Hitoshi countered. “What about red roses for romance and pink for trust and happiness?”
She smiled. “I like that actually.”
Hitoshi was glad, since that was what he had on hand most easily at the moment. It didn’t take him long to put everything together, and the woman seemed pleased with the result when he brought it to her.
Hitoshi rang her up, not thinking much about the whole experience, until she said, “Such a weird place for a flower shop. Can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.”
“We’ve been here for years,” Hitoshi said casually. “Before most of the other businesses on this street.”
“Yeah, that’s what the guy across the street said.”
Hitoshi almost dropped her change. “What now?”
“The guy across the street? Denki Kaminari? He was telling us— he’s tattooing my girlfriend right now so I decided to get her some flowers. Super sweet guy.”
Hitoshi felt his lips twitch and he wasn’t sure if he was amused or annoyed.
“He. He is, yeah.”
“Anyway, thanks again! Sorry I got here so late.”
Hitoshi watched her go, tried not to picture Denki with his bright, infectious smile telling her about the flower shop across the street. He’d probably be dressed in something low cut, showing too much skin, radiating all the comfort and strength of an alpha and wrapping it in the slight, unassuming aura of a beta or omega.
Hitoshi sighed again.
He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
He turned off the open sign, spent about fifteen more minutes tidying up and counting the till, and was just about to walk out the door when he realized the woman from earlier had left her car keys sitting on the counter.
Hitoshi’s heart started to beat unreasonably quickly, and he stared at the door for a long moment, willing her to come back. She would eventually, but who knew how long Hitoshi would be stuck here waiting for her to realize. How long did tattoos take exactly?
There was nothing for it. Hitoshi would just have to take them over to her.
He gathered his things, his scarf, his bank deposit, and then her keys, and locked the door to the shop behind him.
It was dark out. The bars were just starting to get some traffic, and Hitoshi had to wait for a few slower cars to pass before he could trot across the street.
He was proud of himself for only hesitating for a moment before he tugged open the door and pushed inside.
It was bright, warm, and surprisingly inviting. He’d been so nervous last time, he hadn’t fully taken the time to appreciate just how unintimidating the place was. They were just a little busier than they were the last time Hitoshi had been in here. Katsuki was behind the counter, showing someone a sketch book. The pink haired woman was still tattooing someone. She seemed to always be busy. There was a third man Hitoshi had never seen before— tall and lanky with dark hair and muscled shoulders— also tattooing someone. And the two omegas from before— the one with green hair and freckles, and the one with red and white hair and a scar over his eye— were sitting in front of the counter snuggling with each other and looking at something on their phones.
Hitoshi drew up short, wondering who he should talk to about leaving the keys, and then he saw Denki.
He was positioned close enough to the counter that when Hitoshi came toward it, he could see Denki was tattooing a woman’s neck.
It felt like being dropped in cold water.
She was an omega.
She had tears on her face. He was tattooing a very sensitive place with what looked like a lotus flower from here, but Hitoshi could hardly appreciate the artistry because as he watched the woman started simply radiating distress.
Her girlfriend, the one who had bought the flowers, was holding her hand, but it was Denki who started scenting her.
He did it easily, without opening his mouth, and suddenly Hitoshi was overwhelmed by the smell of him, but the soft, cajoling calm of morning sunshine and spring storms and a rich, potent fury washed over him when the woman he was tattooing took a steady breath and her face went slack.
“Hey!”
Hitoshi turned his head slowly, like he was moving through tar.
Katsuki was behind the counter now, staring at him. He looked like maybe he’d tried to get Hitoshi’s attention a few times and Hitoshi hadn’t noticed.
He realized the shop had gone rather quiet. Everyone was looking at him.
Denki’s eyes flipped up from his work just once, and then he looked back down to what he was doing.
“Fuck are you doing, man?” Katsuki demanded.
Doing. What was he—
Oh.
Right.
He was scenting. Because of course he was. Because that’s what he did when he saw people taking advantage of omegas. Because it was impossible for him not to react.
If the shop hadn’t been mostly full of omegas, he might have used his quirk.
As it was, he said quietly, “She left her keys.”
The alpha woman from earlier was looking at Hitoshi suspiciously now, had positioned herself in front of her girlfriend. Hitoshi flung the keys at the counter, whirled around, and left.
Katsuki followed him.
“Hey! Fucker! What the fuck!”
Hitoshi kept walking, back toward his shop even though he should go home now.
“Asshole.”
“Why are you following me?”
“I wanna know what the fuck you think you’re doing stinking up my goddamn shop like that! You fucking jealous Denki’s touching another omega, or something, what the fuck—”
“There is nothing— no reason for me to be—” Hitoshi tried to grit out. Really, it was absurd.
“Then what the shit, dude? You’re outta line!”
“Do you regularly let your alpha artists make their clients submit like that?”
Hitoshi’s cheeks heated the second he spoke. Fury crested over him and he wanted to hit something. And how could another omega let—
“Oh my god, you’re so stupid.”
“Excuse me?”
“He had her permission, you idiot.”
“He— what?”
“Do you know anything about Denki? Like have you even bothered to look him up online?”
“What? No, why would I—”
“Look at our fucking website, you jackass.”
Hitoshi blinked.
Katsuki was glaring, red eyes narrowed in fury, but he had his hands stuck in the pockets of his sweatpants.
“Denki would never do that to someone without asking first. I don’t know what your problem is, but either ask him out or fuck off because I’m tired of seeing him mope for days every time he talks to you.”
Hitoshi’s stomach dropped. He was trying to be angry, but it was hard all of a sudden, and he said, “He. Um. He what?”
“Like you don’t fucking know,” Katsuki said dismissively. “Don’t come back to my fucking shop if you can’t keep your shit together,” he added, turning on his heel and moving back toward the street. “I’ll kick your ass.”
Hitoshi watched him cross the street, and realized he was staring with his mouth open.
He pulled out his cell phone immediately and searched for Denki’s name.
With the very first click, he felt his heart flip over and fall into his belly.
The first entry wasn’t the shop website, but rather an article.
Local Tattoo Artist Helps Clients Reclaim Scars of Domestic Violence
Hitoshi tried to swallow and felt like he had a massive rock in his throat. He clicked the link and realized immediately that Katsuki was right; Hitoshi was a complete asshole.
It was a well written article. It started out by describing an omega man with a deep scar at his throat. He told the journalist how much his life had improved since he left his abusive alpha, but that it was hard seeing the mate bite he used to love in the mirror every day. That he felt like as long as it was there, he’d never really be free of his ex-mate. Surgery— as Hitoshi well knew— was cost prohibitive, and not always reliable, depending on how deep the scarring was.
So the man reached out to Denki.
And it wasn’t just a one time thing— Denki specialized in this. The article was accompanied by ten before and after pictures of work he’d done covering up mate bites.
The quotes from him made Hitoshi’s heart squeeze, made everything he’d just seen in the shop re-contextualize in his head.
D: I realized a lot of artists aren’t willing to do this kind of work, mostly because any tattoo involving a scent gland has its own risks.
I: What kind of risks?
D: Well, for one, it’s probably one of the most sensitive areas on the body, so if it hasn’t been damaged by the surrounding scar tissue, tattooing that area can be really painful. The skin there is very thin, so you have to be careful about how deep the needle goes, how much ink is deposited. If you go too deep, it’s possible to deposit ink into the gland itself which can cause all kinds of really nasty complications, aside from the, the tattoo just won’t look as good as could if the ink spreads where you don’t want it to go. So it’s just important to choose an artist with a lot of experience with this kind of thing.
I: Honestly having a tattoo done over a scent gland doesn’t sound like fun at all.
D: It’s not! And then you add in the fact that any pressure or pain to that area can trigger, um, intense emotional responses. A tattoo is still a, a wound and usually the only time we have trauma there is when mate bites are formed.
The article went on, but Hitoshi felt like he wasn’t really seeing it anymore.
Suddenly, the way Denki hadn’t paid Hitoshi any attention when he’d walked in, the way he’d been laser focused on his work, and the way the woman on the table had been crying all made a lot more sense.
And the flowers. The flowers her girlfriend had bought her, and why.
Fuck.
🗲🗲🗲
Denki was sulking again.
He knew he was. He’d been really proud of the piece he’d done last night. It had been trickier than average and Denki felt he’d done good work. And then Hitoshi had come in and Denki had almost had to put a stop to the session. Hitoshi had left everyone just a little on edge, which wasn’t good for the kind of work Denki had been doing, and also wasn’t good for Denki’s emotions.
He was secretly glad Katsuki had run after him, but then he hadn’t said much when he came back. Just that Hitoshi was an asshole and Denki shouldn’t worry about him.
Hanta took one look at Denki when he walked in the door and said, “Oh, come on, don’t let that guy wreck your day.”
Denki chewed his lip. “I just don’t know what he was so upset about. It was weird.”
“Kat said it was something about scenting,” he supplied.
Denki frowned. “He’s really sensitive to that.”
“Katsuki?” Hanta said raising his brows incredulously. Denki got it. Katsuki could probably out scent an alpha army if he wanted to.
“No, Hitoshi,” Denki explained. “I can tell, it makes him really mad when people scent him.”
“Kinda hypocritical.”
“I don’t think he meant to,” Denki said with a frown. Hanta shrugged. They went about their work.
Just after two, a man walked into the shop. He was blond, with a thin mustache and yellow glasses, and it took Denki a second to place him— he’d been there in Hitoshi’s flower shop a few times, with the older alpha in the scarf.
He was holding a little bouquet of purple flowers on thick green stems, and he came at Denki immediately, a mischievous grin on his face. “Gotta delivery for you.”
Denki raised his brows, and turned his head toward Hanta who pulled a face and shrugged.
“What are they?” Denki asked, holding out his hands to accept the flowers. They were very pretty. Denki wasn’t sure anyone had ever gotten him flowers before.
“Hyacinth,” the man responded, as if that actually meant anything to Denki.
He watched Denki for a second more, and then said, “Enjoy!” in a loud, booming voice, before he turned and strolled back out the door.
Denki stared after him, brows raised as far as they would go.
“There’s a card, dude,” Hanta said when Denki made no move to take his eyes off the door.
There was, in fact, a card.
It was small, quickly scrawled in black ink, and a light purple that almost blended with the flowers.
It said very simply, Sorry -H.
But that wasn’t what made Denki’s heart race. Under the message was a phone number.
Denki was proud of himself for being able to wait a whole ten minutes before he texted it.
What’s a hiusinth?
The response was almost immediate.
Hyacinth. I think they’re pretty. I thought about a yellow rose but sometimes those mean ‘jealousy’ and I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.
Denki was chewing his lip, grinning at his phone. His heart was racing and holy fuck he had actual butterflies in his belly.
What’s hyacinth mean?
Purple means I’m sorry. There was a pause, and then three little dots popped up on the screen, so Denki waited for Hitoshi to send his message. I didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.
No one’s ever asked me before. How about violets?
The three dots popped up again, and then disappeared. And then again. And then disappeared. Denki chewed his lip and tried to be patient.
The next message was very simple, and very short, and it made Denki beam at his phone.
So coffee?
No, Denki typed back without pause. He sent it immediately, waited about thirty seconds just to make Hitoshi squirm a little, and then sent, I want to take you out for real. To dinner and a movie. Real romantic cliche shit.
Before Hitoshi could reply, Denki added, I’ll bring you flowers and everything. I know this really great flower shop.
It took Hitoshi a long time to respond, but Denki kept his eyes on his phone and knew Hitoshi had seen the message, and was trying to reply.
When he did, it said very simply, When?