Word Count: 1926

Tags: Cute. Little plot. Implies smut

Jesus fuck that's hot.

Paul shook his head and continued into the shop, actively ignoring thoughts of the motorcyclist and shiney bike outside.

Not a minute later, bells chimed as someone entered the front door. Paul exited the back room to great the potential costumer.

"Hi, welcome. Can I help-"

Shit. That's a fucking lot of tattoos.

Paul shook his head and returned reality.

"Can I help you with anything?"

The man grunted in response.

Or maybe it was just a general grunt cause who the fuck grunts??

Paul watched tentatively, trying to determine whether or not the man was a threat. Not that he was scared, he's second job was a marshal arts trainer, but still. The man was off-putting.

He selected a bright yellow gerbera and approached the counter.

Good choice.

The Daisy's came in fresh this morning.

"How much?" He asked.

"$2."

He pulled out a crumbling leather wallet and handed over two bills, then walked out the door without another word. Pauls eyes followed the man as he passed the parked bike and entered the Tattoo parlor a few doors down.

Strange.

•••

Two different roses.

A sunflower.

A couple of carnations.

A mix of Maiden's hair and Baby's breath.

A sunset Dahlia.

Another daisy (red this time).

An stem of not so cheap orchids.

Roughly twice a week for three months he came in, picked some small flower, paid, and left. Never more than 3 words spoken at a time. Paul accepted the strange interactions and began to enjoy them for no particular reason. Something about him was just extremely calming.

Today it was a single sword fern leaf. Somewhere along the line he had gotten used to the mans very small requests and allowed him to buy single stems rather than bouquets. Really, Paul didn't want to explain that you can't buy just baby's breath or a single carnation to the man who didn't seem to understand that the bouquets were banded together for a reason, so he let him pull whatever flower and just made up some small price when he got to the register.

"Uhhh, 35 cents?"

The man raised an eyebrow at the seemingly random number.

Paul caught his eye.

"Well what do you want me to say it's a single leaf man, I feel bad charging you for a leaf! Just take it."

The man looked taken aback.

"You sure?"

"Yes! It's a leaf!" He exclaimed, exasperated by the mans strange choice in floral arrangement.

"Uh, thanks man."

He quickly walked away.

Paul watched as he walk/jogged to the parlor.

That's the most we've ever spoken, Paul realized. He went back to work, stocking the flowers and creating arrangements.

"God-Fucking-Ugh!" He threw the pile of roses and pressed the bleeding skin together while he searched for a bandaid.

If he was being honest, it was a total over reaction, just like the interaction with Strange Tattoo/Flower/Motorcyclist. He was having a shit day- his ex sent him a wedding invitation.

Save the date! October 3rd!

Fuck that. Who the fuck invites their ex boyfriend-whom they cheated on- to their wedding to the person they cheated with (who just so happens to be that ex's ex-best friend.)

Lost a best friend and a boyfriend in that one, so that was fun.

It was getting late- well late for a flower shop- so Paul flipped the opened sign and headed to the back room to take a nap. His car broke down a few months ago and he didn't have the money to fix it, so he sold it for scrap and got a bus pass instead. Conveniently, there was a stop on the same corner as the shop. Inconveniently, it only ran 4 times a day. 7am (nope), 10 am (ride to work), 1:45 (useless) and 7:30 pm (ride home). Two and a half hours sleep then he could go home. It was a Wednesday anyway so it's not like he was losing any costumers.

•••

The chime of a bell brought Paul into a groggy awakening.

What time is it?

Fuck. 11:38

How?!

He wasn't that tired.

"Hello?" Someone called from the front of the shop.

Shit! He didn't lock the door!

Paul inhaled deeply and prayed nothing was missing. How much more could go wrong today.

"Just a sec!" Paul ginger combed his long hair and headed out.

"Oh good. The sign said closed but the lights were still on and you're usually gone by now, so I was just checking."

Tattoo Motorcycle man stood awkwardly in the middle of the shop floor.

"Oh. Thanks." Paul has never heard so many words from his mouth. His drawl was kinda cute.

"So I guess I'll just go now," the man continued when Paul added nothing more. He took a step toward the door but stopped.

"Hey, uh, you need a ride? There's no more buses coming this far out."

"How do you know I take the bus?" Paul challenged.

"Well there's no other cars in the lot," he retorted sarcastically. "But also," he continued with less confidence, "seen ya get on and off. The bus bench's right out side the shops window so," he trailed off scratching the back of his head.

Paul studied him.

Fuck it.

"Okay. Gimme a second."

He grabbed his bag from the back and returned.

"Off we go then." They headed out the door, Paul making certain it was locked this time.

As they approached the bike Paul realized his miscalculation.

Of course he meant a ride on his bike how else would he drive there's no cars out here.

"Trust me it safe. I got a spare helmet and everything." He tossed Paul a plain black helmet.

"Oh shit, I'm Daryl," He stretched a hand out to Paul over the bike.

"Paul. But my friends call me Jesus."

Daryl snorted.

"Sure thing Paul."

He threw a leg over the bike and waited.

"Well? You coming?"

Paul followed suit, careful not to sit to close.

"What's you address?" He asked, passing Paul his phone with google maps opened. He typed it in and passed it back.

Daryl started the directions and closed his helmet, which Paul mimicked.

Daryl snorted as Paul struggled to find a place for his hands.

"Unless you want to fall off you better find something to hang on to," he joked as he turned the ignition.

"Umm," Paul struggled, trying to hold on the the seat behind him while still keeping a space between him and Daryl.

Daryl looked back and shook his head, then reached back and pulled one of Paul's arms around his torso. Paul was glad the helmet was covering his face so Daryl couldn't see his blush as he gingerly wrapped his other arm around Daryl and clasped his hands.

Daryl shook his head again at the way Paul kept a solid inch of space between every part of their bodies so his arms were positioned like a hula hop.

The bike started up and they existed the parking lot on to the highway through town. Daryl speed up unnecessarily fast, teasing Paul who suddenly gripped tighter, sometimes even pressing his head to Daryls back, when he did. A few minutes later, they slowed to a stop into a neighborhood of condos and apartments. Paul tried to get off slowly enough to act nonchalant, but his awkward nerves shown through. He pulled off the helmet and Daryl did as well.

Hot damn that helmet hair.

"Thanks," he handed the helmet to Daryl.

"Welcome."

Paul crosses his arms, missing the warmth of the angel wing leather.

"So, uh, this is my place."

"That's good. Be bad if I drive to some random house for nothing."

Paul laughed.

"Do you want to come up? I mean you don't have to it's late I just thought I'd ask."

Daryl let him finish his ramble before smiling. "Yeah sure."

Daryl tossed the helmets in the compartment and followed Paul into the apartment complex.

"Ta-da. This is it. I probably should have clean it before inviting anyone over but," he trailed off. He watched Daryl walk around the small living room/kitchen/dinning room set up studding pictures and nik-nacks. "You want some thing to drink? Beer, water, tea?" He offered a range trying to get a feel for the situation.

"Waters fine, thanks."

He filled two glasses and walked over to Daryl.

"So, can I ask you a question?"

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

"What do you do with the flowers? Like is your girlfriend into single stems or what?" Paul tried not so hard to be subtle on the word "girlfriend".

Daryl did his word grunt sound agin- or maybe it was a laugh. "Girlfriends ain't my type, and no it's not for anyone. I use 'em as references for sketches and tattoos."

"Oh really! That's cool." Paul continued, acting as though he didn't even notice the response to his questioning of his sexuality.

"Can I see some of your designs?"

"I ain't got my book with me but I got a few I did on my self here." He pulled off his jacket to expose a sleeve of different flowers mixed in with motorcycles, skulls, wings and zombies.

"Wow." Paul admired, not noticing when he started tracing the designs with his hand. "Those are really cool," he said looking up and realizing how close they were.

"Do you have any others?" He asked with only a hint of suggestion. He really was curious; they were kind of amazing.

Daryl smirked at the poorly disguised flirting.

"A few. How bout you? Any hidden ink?"

Paul caught his notion lip between his teeth as he huffed a laugh and smiled.

"I can show you if you like."

Daryl licked his lips in return.

God that helmet hair, just begging to have Paul's hand running through it.

"Yeah I'd like that."

"Well it's good we're not in public because I made some very poor choices in freshman year and lost more bets than I'm willing to admit."

Daryl laughed. Fucking actually laughed. And before Paul could recover from the shock of hearing the tattoo clad motorcyclist fucking giggle, two hands wove themselves into his ridiculous hair and beard as Daryl kissed him.

•

•

•

"Oh-my," He wheezed between laughs. "-fucking god! Why!"

Paul lied back pouting.

"I was drunk. I was 18. I though it was funny."

Daryl continued laughing.

"I keep saying I'm gunna get it covered but I've never wanted to have to explain why I got them in the first place," he whined .

On each hipbone, just along the v of his pelvis were two small bows.

"You're mean."

"Aww I'm sorry," Daryl continued to tease. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"You are a terrible person." Paul stated. "Also yes."

•••••••

Ps

•••••••

"No. We're not."

"Oh come on you know they deserve it."

"No! This is ridiculous."

"Pleeeease."

"We're not sending your ex and his ex-husband an invitation to our wedding!"

"But they deserve it! They did it to me!"

Daryl paused.

"That what?"

"They sent me an invitation to their wedding."

"And this is the ex that cheated on you with your best friend? They sent you a wedding invite?"

Paul nodded, knowing he was going to win.

"Oh fuck them they're both getting invites. With each other's last names. Fuck them."

Paul smiled smugly to himself as his fiancé added two names to the invite list.

"Okay. Now that that's over. Next on the list is flowers."