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Flowerkill, Or The Anatomy Of Spite

Summary:

“Okay, how do you passively-aggressively say 'fuck you' but like, with a bunch of flowers?”

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Whenever Mary-Margaret told people she worked in a flower shop, she was met with responses such as “Wow, this is so cute,”- but she could always see beneath her interlocutors' fake smiles and condescending nods, and she knew exactly what they thought: her job was boring.

 

Granted, there were more sensational things to do in life than to put together flowers for other people, but what people failed to realize was that the interesting part of the job laid in the clients- whether they were looking for a first date gift, or a way to apologize to a loved one- she loved imagining stories about what could possibly have bought these people to her shop.

 

Valentine's day was particularly prolific for her- while her emotional life wasn’t particularly fulfilling, with her spending most of her February 14th nights watching romcoms with a tub of mint chocolate ice cream as her date, it was most definitely the best day of the year for her business. People thought a bouquet made for a romantic gift, which was perfectly fine by her, if it weren't for the fact she felt a little overwhelmed by the sudden amount of orders, even with David by her side to help her set them up, but that was one of the setbacks that came with being the only flower shop in town. 

 

The day after Valentine’s Day was a little more intriguing, though- and slightly funnier. People coming in frantically looking for flowers as a way to make it up to their loved ones wasn’t funny per say , but it did amuse Mary-Margaret a little. 

 

Which was why when this stranger walked in, fifty dollar bill in her hand, she’d definitely expected her to ask for a romantic bouquet of some sort to offer a loved one as a way to apologize for not doing well enough on Valentine’s day.  

 

But instead, she slapped the bill on the table, before looking her in the eye and asking; “Okay, how do you passively-aggressively say 'fuck you' but with like, with a bunch of flowers?”

 

Mary-Margaret was taken aback- she’d barely had had the time to process the stranger's presence in her shop, let alone the demand that came with her. She shook her head, “I'm sorry?” She said, her brain still trying to catch up with the situation.

 

“Sorry, I guess that was a little rude of me,” the woman gave Mary-Margaret an apologetic smile, her red lips quirking up at the corner, and Mary-Margaret visibly gulped, heat rising to her cheeks. Because now was a good time to think about how pretty her client was.

Especially when said client seemed to have it rough on Valentine's Day.

 

“I'm Ruby, nice to meet you,” she said, extending out her hand for a handshake, which Mary-Margaret gladly took, “My mother and I had a fight, and uh, I need to do something to show how spiteful I am, I guess,” she said, 

 

“Oh... I'm sorry to hear about that?” Mary-Margaret tentatively tried, not knowing whether this was supposed to be a good thing or not- she'd always hated fighting with her mother because the two had always been two peas in the pod, so when the two argued, it always ended up being bad- never as bad as the time she’d revealed she’d rather sell flowers than be a big-time lawyer, and that law school would be a waste of time for her. Her mother had refused to talk to her for an entire month, constantly talking to her father about how ‘she was throwing her lie away for a boy’ which made absolutely no sense, since there was no boy involved in this ordeal, but Eva seemed convinced that a boy was at the root of what she thought to be an identity crisis of some sorts.

(Hint: it was not. Mary-Margaret felt way better owning a flower shop than she ever would have as a lawyer, something her mother finally came to terms on her own after a long period of denial.)

 

 “Oh don't worry, my mom sucks,” the other woman playfully smiled at her, a twinkle in her eye Mary-Margaret hadn't noticed before appearing, “Something about her daughter being a lesbian not sitting well with her. Good riddance if you ask me,” she said, winking at Mary-Margaret.

 

If Mary-Margaret was blushing before that, she was probably redder than a tomato by that point. She stammered, “I- yes, very much. And if that can make you feel better, my mom always talks to me about how much she wants a grandchild. I don’t intend on giving her one anytime soon, though,” she said, before looking around and whispering, “But don’t tell her I said that.”

 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she picked it up to see a few texts from David.

David: wow you're terrible at this haha (2:47 PM)

David: you two act like edward and bella in the first twilight movie (2:47 PM)

David: you’re bella btw (2:47 PM)

 

She turned her head to find David observing the exchange from the back room, smirking at her. She glared at him, pulling out her phone and typing out an answer, before hitting send and shoving it back in her apron’s pocket.

Shut up or I'll lie and tell Kathryn you collect furbies. (2:48 PM)

 

David: ouch... almost starting to think your sadistic streak is the real reason we never worked out (2:49 PM)

 

I'll kill you in your sleep if you don’t get back to work. <3 (2:50 PM)

 

Mary-Margaret and David had dated for a few years in college and had actually been going very strong at the beginning, but as time went on, their relationship fizzled out- no one was to blame for it, they'd simply drifted apart. They still cared for each other a lot when the relationship ended, and had decided that there wouldn't be anything wrong with staying friends. 

 

Ruby coughed, pulling Mary-Margaret out of her thoughts.

 

“Oh, sorry, I was busy trying to make sure my very annoying workmate gets back to work,” she said, putting the emphasis on the word annoying as to make sure David would hear it.

 

“Ah, I work with my granny so… I get it, she yells at me every morning because a leather jacket is apparently unprofessional,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. Mary-Margaret chuckled at this, a smile plastering itself onto her face.

 

She took the notepad and the pen that was sitting on the counter, scribbling something down before motioning the stranger to come with her “Come with me.”

 

So, she started walking her around the shop, “So, since there's no direct way to say 'Fuck you' with a bouquet, I was thinking we could do the next best thing,” she joked, causing Ruby to chuckle.

 

“I mean, egging her house would be an efficient way to tell her to fuck off,” Ruby joked, “Actually, I’ve done so. Multiple times since July. She only recently caught up on the fact that it was me and not one of the kids from the school she works at.”

 

Mary-Margaret snorted at this, “How did it take her so long to figure out it was you?”

 

“Well, I am very good at hiding evidence, so it might have had to do with that,” Ruby flashed an innocent smile at Mary-Margaret, whose heart tightened in her chest. It almost felt like her heart was becoming liquid and melting at the sight of this woman.

 

“Oh, are you a criminal now?” Mary-Margaret playfully asked.

 

“Well, usually not, but for you, I’d be willing to make an exception.”

 

“Oh, why thank you,” Mary-Margaret answered, her heart rate picking up. She cleared her throat, “So, I was thinking... geraniums, for stupidity,” she said, reaching for a few of the pretty pink flowers. In doing so, her hand accidentally brushed Ruby’s, and she quickly pulled away- almost as if she’d been burned. 

 

“Sorry about that,” She said, her skin intensely heating up. Ruby did not answer, nor did she move.

 

“Could you hold this for me, please?” Mary-Margaret asked, handing Ruby the unfinished bouquet, which she took from her hands. 

 

She then reached for another type of flowers, “Foxgloves for insincerity, and meadowsweets for uselessness,” she said, before bending down to reach them. 

 

“Can you hand me back the flowers please?”

 

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl,” Ruby said, handing her back the bouquet.  Mary-Margaret instantly froze, not knowing how to react. If she’d been blushing before, she was convinced her entire face had turned an awkward shade of puce by that point.

 

“I-Th-thanks,” she stammered, “Let’s go get some yellow carnations,” she said, steering the subject of the conversation to something she was comfortable with, “They symbolize disappointment. Then we’ll get some orange lilies for hatred.”

Ruby nodded, looking just as flushed as Mary-Margaret.

 

 

“Thanks, now I get to show my gratitude for my mother in the best possible way I can,” she later said, clutching the bouquet, "through spite."

 

“But um,” she continued, looking slightly flushed, “I didn't quite catch your name,” Ruby said, despite the fact that Mary-Margaret's name was written on her nametag. 

 

“Mary-Margaret,” she said, beaming at her.

 

“Alright, Mary-Margaret, thanks for the bouquet,” she said, before turning around and walking outside the shop, the little bell ringing as she stepped outside.

 

 

Once Ruby had left, David patted her on the shoulder, “It’s okay, one day you’ll finally learn how to flirt. And maybe one day, you’ll even find your princess.”

 

Mary-Margaret pretended to throw up, “God, you’re so corny,” she said, moving to clean the counter, “I don’t know how Kathryn puts up with you.”

 

“You were the one who used to put up with me, if I correctly remember. And you were just fine with the corniness too.”

 

“Wait, what’s this?” She said, noticing a piece of paper sitting on the brown countertop.

 

“Oh no, she must have forgotten her receipt,” she said, holding up in front of David.

 

David chuckled, “Mary-Margaret…” he said, trying not to laugh, “Maybe you should check the other side of the receipt.”

 

“Wh- why would I-“ she said, turning it around and finding a phone number written, along with the message. Mary-Margaret read it out loud, “To the cute blushing florist who couldn’t stop touching my hand, call me…” she reread it over and over, not believing her eyes.


David smiled at her, “Well, I guess you did leave an impression.”