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a-tired-bitch · 6 years

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You Should Know Better Pt.17

23 Parts: I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII - XVIII - XIX - XX - XXI - XXII - XXIII

MASTER LIST

YSKB MASTER LIST

Summary: After asking Dustin for a favor, Joe arrives home to a surprise.

POV: Joe

Characters: Joe Merriweather, Dustin Ayers (Italics), Claire Merriweather (Indented Italics)

Word Count: 3187

Author’s Note: After over four months of not writing, I present you with the best Joe Merriweather fic out there. The majority of this chapter is driven by dialogue. I really have to get into the swing of things again. I didn’t get this beta’d or read over, so have fun reading and excuse any typos.

Quote: “You trying to intimidate me has as much luck as a crack whore turning down crack – you see, it’s just not going to work.”

“Dustin, buddy, just listen to me for a second.” Despite driving down the desolate road with no passengers, Joe spoke and gesticulated his hands as if someone sat beside him. “Ever since we’ve become brothers, I’ve done a lot of favors for you, like a lot, whether they be in a personal or professional sense, and most of the time I’ve done so without questions or complaining, but the one time,” Joe raised his index finger before clenching his hand on the steering wheel, “the one time I fucking ask you to come to one of my classes and hang around for a bit, you decide to keep me hanging.”

Just as expected, a moment of silence flowed throughout the Jeep, the only audible noise was the outside rumbling of the engine, pulling the vehicle forward.

As compared to most other times, instead of reveling in the solace of the silence, Joe knew, at least to his own thinking, silence had no chair at this table.

With a long exhale that was accompanied by a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, Joe spoke yet again. “Usually the hardest part of communicating is listening, but you’re doing a damn good job right now.”

“Look, Joe, if you want me to be completely truthful, I don’t wanna do it.” The man’s annoyance laced voice finally booming through the speakers. “Plus, I don’t even have the free time to do that - I picked up an extra shift to get that good ol’ fat overtime check like I did yesterday.”

Fully prepared for the answer and excuse, Joe smacked his tongue along the roof of his mouth. “Oh, Dustin,” Joe whispered under his breath in a disappointing tone, “of course, I want you to be truthful and I appreciate the truthfulness, but that’s not the answer I want to hear, and I would really hate to intimidate or force you into this by threat or guilt.”

A booming laugh traveled throughout the speakers, forcing Joe to lower the volume. “You? Intimidate and force me? God, Joe, that’s one of the better jokes you have ever told. Seriously, you should look into a career in comedy because that shit has me almost pissing my pants.” The burly laughs turned into nothing more than a few chuckles. “You trying to intimidate me has as much luck as a crack whore turning down crack – you see, it’s just not going to work.”

With raised eyebrows, Joe straightened in his seat as a mix of shock and dismay claimed his features. There was no doubt, that what Dustin had just said was true. In the eyes of most people, whether they share a level of intimacy or not, Joe could be a pushover and claim the title of an easy, calm, and docile soul, but nevertheless, there were times where it was necessary for him to assert his dominance and this was one of the occasions.

Narrowing his sights on the road before him, Joe cleared his throat. “Tell me, Dustin, since I assume you’re currently patrolling prostitution lane due to your little joke, I take it that you’re in your vehicle since you’re on your phone.”

Not only did the dinging of the laptop notification confirm Joe’s assumption, there was also a verbal confirmation. “Prostitution lane is my favorite place to be – you know, deterring crime, getting a comedy show, and other shit. But anyways, why do you ask?”

“Good, because I want you to do a couple of things in order to put our professional relationship into perspective. Don’t worry, though, you can do all of this in the comfort of your seat and I’ll be sure to say my orders in a nice, clear, and slow manner.”

There was a delay in Dustin’s response, but it came sooner rather than later. “What the fuck?,” he questioned, “professional relationship into perspective?,” the man asked, repeating Joe’s underlying threat, “what kind of bullshit mind games are you –.”

Interrupting the rambling of confusion, the orders began to flow. “Shut up and listen very intently to me – what I want you to do first, is to look around that SUV. Go ahead and take a second to revel in the smell of that vehicle – I know you usually have a citrus smelling air freshener, so take a nice, deep whiff of that.” Joe paused for a moment, allowing the man to do what he was ordered. “Next, go right on ahead and run your hand along your thick, worn-in duty belt until you come along your cuffs. When you find your first pair, let the coldness of the steel spread across your skin. Once that happens, glance to your right and admire that shotgun that’s stationed in its holster – it’s a pretty view, isn’t it?” Yet again, another pause came. “Lastly, peel away those sunglasses and take a nice, long look in that rearview mirror, but make sure you get a glimpse of that beautiful cage that’s right behind you.”

There was no doubt that the orders pouring out from Joe’s mouth were, in some ways, strangely sensual and sexual. “Do you know why I want you doing these things?”

“I have no fucking clue what kind of bullshit you’re trying to do, but it sure sounds like you’re trying to have some strange, kinky session of phone sex with me and although I appreciate the attempt, I don’t want to rub another one out in the car right now.” An attempt to cut through the tension that was radiating from the other end of the phone was made, but ultimately, all attempts failed.

“Phone sex is usually my thing, but right now, with you, it’s not my thing,” Joe admitted, allowing for the comment to cut just a sliver of tension away. “But anyways, I want you aware of how much you’ll be missing that SUV when your ass is on desk duty. I want you to also be aware of who owns you. I want you fully aware that I am your superior when you’re sitting in that car. I command you and you listen to me.”

Yes, in the eyes of both Joe and Dustin, the whole speech was a threat in a sole effort to assert dominance, but truth be told, it was more than likely an empty threat that would never happen.

Turning onto his street and eyeing his empty driveway, Joe listened as a defeated sigh sounded through the speakers.

The smile that began to claim his features was a direct result of Dustin’s submissiveness. Deep down, both of the men knew that the older, more experienced man would come out on top. “Remember, Deputy Dustin Ayers, I own your uniformed ass when I deem fit.”

“So that’s how it’s going to be? You’re hitting below the belt with your low blows, aren’t you? Pulling the whole ‘I can tell you what to do because I’m your superior and you are required to listen to me without any resistance’ card.”

“You’re damn fucking right I am.” Joe asserted, nodding his head. “You see, when certain circumstances arise, I’ll fucking pull that card and put it to good use. It’s a rare occasion when I do that, but when I do, things usually pan out in my favor, am I right?” His voice dropping, becoming more threatening.

Thankful for the commencement of radio traffic, Dustin listened intently before it died down. “Fine, fine fine,” he repeated as if he were a broken record. “I’ll think about it, but no promises, but tell me, when is it? Where is it? What time would I need to come? How long would I have to stay? And what would I have to speak about?”

Although the answer was neither a definite yes not a definite no, the older man was content since he knew, that deep down, Dustin would appear and help him out.

“Look on the bright side, think of it as a sort of community policing and getting an eye on some future colleagues,” a string of low mockingly chuckles panned out before the answers commenced.

“Next Wednesday which is a week from now. Ugh,” Joe went quiet for a moment, visualizing the shift in times to accommodate the exam week. “Let’s see, you can come at four and we’ll shoot the shit in my office for a bit before going into the class – if you do that, you’ll be there for about three hours. As for the last question, feel free to talk about whatever the fuck you want – everyone there is grown and knows what that line of work entails. And don’t worry, I’ll talk to whatever supervisor overseeing your shift – which I believe is Schultz – and tell her what’s going on.”

Pulling into his driveway, fully unaware of the events that were about to unfold, Joe brought the Jeep to a halt.

“Talk about whatever?” Dustin repeated. “You sure about that? You’re not going to put any restrictions on anything? Might end up regretting that.” Dustin jokingly teased.

Glancing over at his truck, Joe fiddled with the garage door opener that rested in one of the cupholders. “Man, you know what I mean – tell some stories, crack some jokes, do whatever the fuck, but if I have to cut you off from rambling too much or getting too deep, I’ll do so.” Pressing the button on the garage door opener, Joe turned his attention to the door. “You’ve seen some of these people before, so just bust their balls a bit. Make fun of them. Tease them. Don’t worry —.”

Suddenly, with just enough space to see into the garage, Joe noticed a car in his spot.

Resting in the garage was a black Mercedes, a color matching the coldness and blackness of the person who owned it.

A string of derogatory slurs and disrespectful curses filled the confined area before Joe abruptly said a goodbye to his partner, closing the call before the man could say anything.

With anger pulsing throughout his veins, Joe hopped out of the vehicle, nearly forgetting to shut it off and put it in park before storming into the garage.

With long and heavy strides, it took just a few steps before Joe was before the door, pushing it open and catching the handle just inches before it crashed into the wall behind it.

The smell of steak frying in a pan filled his nostrils. The sounds of sizzling meat pierced his ears. The sight of Claire standing before the stove in a pair of heels, tight jeans, and a black shirt filled his vision.

It was almost as if his loud entrance went unnoticed by the woman – she continued to calmly stand before the stove, tending to the meat.

“Ugh, are you fucking deaf or are you stupid?” Joe called out, slamming the door shut.

Gently placing the fork down, Claire slowly turned to face the man who was dressed in a full-blown black on white suit. “No, I can hear you loud and clear and since I can hear you loud and clear, there is no need to get loud because, you know, my ears are just fine. Also, no, I’m not stupid either because here I am, in our house, cooking us a nice dinner. If anything, I’m a nice person, not a stupid one.” Claire sassed, watching as the enraged man stopped just feet away from her.

With squinted eyes, Joe quickly looked her over before locked eyes with her. “Our house? A nice dinner? A nice person?” Joe falsified a laugh, “you were always one to have a shitty and dry sense of humor, but looks like a lot can change over the course of a few months.” Taking a small step forward, Joe lowered himself just slightly. “Cut the shit and tell me how the fuck you got in in my house and why the fuck you are in my house.”

Holding up a finger, Claire turned back around, giving the steak one last flip and baste before turning off the stove. “I thought you were always three steps ahead of people in thirty different directions.” Claire mocked. “If you’re that smart why don’t you tell me why I’m here then.” Turning around, cold, blue eyes stared relentlessly at brown squinted ones.

She waited a moment to see if he would answer, but as expected, Joe remained quiet, leading for her to answer the questions for him. “You must have either known or hoped that I would come back because you never changed the locks or the codes – either that, or you forgot to do it, but you aren’t a man to forget things.” She paused for a moment, searching his face for any minor changes. “As for why I’m here,” she tilted her head slightly, tearing her eyes from his, gazing past him, “well, I would be lying if I said I knew the answer to that.”

Silence began to envelop the room – on one hand, Claire stood there with her eyes latching onto Joe as she awaiting a response from him and on the other hand, Joe turned a cold shoulder to her, his head dropping, and a hand coming up to rub the side of his bearded cheek.

It seemed as if an eternity passed with neither of the parties daring to break the streak of silence.

Strangely, for Joe, it seemed as if this small moment of time, particularly the layout of the conversation and the silent interactions between the two, rang a bell in his mind, serving as a sort of deja-vu. The underlying tension in the air, the wandering glances, the shoulder-turning-head-dropping-cheek-rubbing-disappointment, and not to mention, the smell of cooked steak, all took him back to the moment Claire sat him down, told him she was leaving him for another man, and explained how she wanted a divorce.

Letting his hand run up from his cheek and into his hairline, Joe cocked his head back, letting out a long sigh before resting his sights on her again. It was almost as if she was frozen in time for she had yet to move an inch.

The view of his wife didn’t last long before he turned away and walked towards the cabinet. Reaching out, he opened the white surface, retrieved a glass, and gently closed the door.

This situation called for a drink.

Examining the small array of liquor bottles, he had restocked after drinking a day or two of his life away, Joe opted for the usual.

Pouring out the amber liquid of a Jack Daniels bottle, he was careful to pour no more than the usual amount before placing the bottle back into its respected spot.

Finally, turning around, glass in hand, Joe spoke, “Well, if you won’t say it, I’ll say it for you: you’re fucking lying.” He then proceeded to take a sip.

Not only did the burning liquid ignite a small fire within him, but it seemed as if a fire started within Claire as well.

Whipping around, a shocked, yet flushed-face Claire locked eyes with him. “I’m lying?,” she questioned almost in dismay as she brought a hand to her chest, “No, no, no, Joe, you’re lying,” she rebutted, waving a finger at him, “and I would like it if you didn’t use your little police-reverse-psychology-interrogation questioning-bullshit tactics on me.”

Placing the glass beside him, Joe raised his arms up defensively, “Look, I work with people all day long and I can sense and smell a lie from a mile away. Not only that, but I know for a damn fact that no one in the right mind just happens to show up in their ex-spouses, but apparently in our fucked-up case, their spouse's house without telling them and just ‘doesn’t know why they are there.’” Joe pulled his eyebrows together, letting out a fake chuckle. “If you ask me, that’s burglary which is a crime and not only that, but it’s a shit move on your part.” Lowering his arms, he leaned against the counter.

Weighing her options, Claire battled with wanting to continue the bickering match the two of them were engaging in and wanting to cut the shit and get down to business with or without the help of some seduction on her part. “Yeah?” She asked, ignoring the majority of his reply. “And what are you going to do, whip out those cuffs we often put to good use and take me to jail?”

There was a handful of distance between the two - Joe continued to lean against the counter while Claire stood in the middle of the kitchen. She blatantly gave him a look over and in that moment, just like many others, she once again realized that there was no doubt that she still felt a level of attraction towards the man. In this moment, she wanted to approach him and loop her fingers through the visible belt loops on his slacks and him towards, but not only was it too early for that, but also far too dangerous – dangerous not in the terms of its true definition, but dangerous in the terms of not wanting to overstep the boundaries. In addition to wanting to approach him, she wanted to manipulate him, but they both knew that Joe was too smart for that now, especially after how things panned out over the last few months – any attempt at persuasion, seduction, or manipulation would more than likely fall apart.

Digging his hands into his pockets, Joe dropped his head, a laugh slipping through his lips, breaking his façade. “No,” he answered, leaning off the counter, “I’m not going to use the cuffs on you nor am I going to take you anywhere.” He finished, another laugh escaping before finishing off the rest of the amber liquid. “But you know what we are going to do?” He asked, placing the glass down as he proceeded to open the cupboard again.

Tilting her head and narrowing her eyes, she watched as the man retrieved a set of plates. “What’s that?” She questioned, knowing fully, or at least to some extent, what his answer would be.

Without answering right away, he walked before the stove and instantly a frown claimed his lips at the sight. “Well, since you cooked only one steak – who cooks just a single steak when you break into someone else’s house -, we’re going to split this sucker, sit down, and have a nice and cordial discussion as to why you’re here and what you want.”

Moments later, the two of them sat down at the dining table, half a steak on eat plate, and a glass of wine placed out before them. After exchanging a smile and a longing glance, Joe went to pick up his knife before Claire reached out and stopped him.

“Before we do anything, I’m going to lay this,” Claire quickly dug into her pocket, pulling out a golden band along with a black and blue band - the one Joe wore while on duty - before settling it down on the table, “and this down,” she then pulled out her own wedding ring and band, “and by the end of this discussion, dinner or even the end of the night, I want both of us to know whether we should put these back on and work things out or keep them off and go our own ways.”

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roseonhissleeve · 7 years

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Bloom — Part IV — Spring

REQUEST: Can u write a fan fic about the girl owning a flower shop and Harry coming in to get flowers for someone else but then they fall in love because love is beautiful like a flower

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is the final part of this story! I may add an epilogue afterwards, but this will be the last weekly update. Thank you all so much for the feedback and the support that this story has received—this one holds a special place in my heart. I hope that you enjoy! x

Bloom: Part I // Bloom: Part II //Bloom: Part III //

The day had arrived.

Harry had been talking about it for weeks and weeks—he’d had such a good time writing his first album in isolation, that he decided to do the same thing for his second album. He was heading off to a remote island off of the coast of South America, and he had booked out studio time for two whole months.

The two of them spent hours together talking about his travel plans and getting him a head start on the writing process. He would spent days sitting at the counter of her little store—he would even occasionally ring in the customers, teasing her about how he deserves to be on the payroll. For the most part he sat and played the guitar, or brought her fun things that he’d purchased to take with him.

She did her best to distract herself from the fact that her best friend in the world was leaving.

It had been almost a year since Harry walked into her flower store that first night, and now she couldn’t imagine her life without him. She understood why she wouldn’t be able to have any contact with him during his writing process—he needed to focus on his music, and she respected that entirely. But it would be the hardest two months of her life, because Harry was her favorite person in the world.

And because she was in love with him.

The day he came to say goodbye, it was almost midnight. She had been doing inventory in the store and stopped to read up on something in her encyclopedias, and she ended up falling asleep in the back room. She didn’t hear the dinging of the bell above the door as Harry walked into the store.

He called out her name softly when he didn’t see her at the counter, and stepped into the store before locking the door behind him. He always gave her grief about how she never locked the front door after closing, especially because she spent so much time there after-hours.

He walked in through the store and behind the counter to go into the back room, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. She was curled up in a blanket, her big book in her lap as she lay back on a large beanbag chair she’d bought the previous month. Her soft snoring filled the air, and even though she was asleep she looked distraught, as if she was having a bad dream.

“C’mon love,” he said, kneeling down beside her as he set a hand on her knee. She stirred a little bit—she was an incredibly light sleeper, he’d learned, and her eyelids fluttered open only enough to see his face. The moment she saw him her lips revealed a sleepy smile, her arms reaching out to him.

“Harry,” she mumbled, still half-asleep. “Come cuddle me.”

He chuckled lightly, moving so that he could position himself next to her on the large beanbag chair. She immediately curled up against his chest, and his heart leaped at the sensation—she’d never been this physically connected to him.

Up until that point their friendship had been strictly platonic, and he didn’t think that she had any intention of taking it anywhere else. But he couldn’t ignore the thudding of his heart in his chest as she draped her arm across her chest, her nose tickling his skin as it nuzzled into his neck.

“I’ve got yeh,” he murmured delicately, giving her a gentle squeeze as she positioned herself against him cozily.

“Mm, Harry?” She murmured, eyes still shut.

“Yeah, love?”

“I’m…really gonna miss you,” she sighed, and he thought that he heard a hint of sadness in her voice. He ran his hand up her back soothingly, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead before replying.

“I’m gonna miss yeh too, sweetheart.”

He let her drift off to sleep in his arms—he probably shouldn’t have, but he didn’t have the heart to wake her up just yet. Even though she’d been putting on a brave face, he knew that she was taking his upcoming departure harder than she admitted. She always got a little bit quieter when they spoke about it for too long, and she’d been in a cranky mood the past couple of days. And even though he was excited for his new adventure, he had to admit that he was sad he would be leaving her here.

Eventually he woke her up properly and helped her finish closing up the store, neither of them saying much. They both knew that a goodbye was in order, and they were both absolutely dreading it.

Once there was nothing left to do they both stood outside of the store, looking at each other underneath the light of the street lamps.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said softly, forcing a small smile onto her lips. She was holding back tears, but she forced herself to stay strong as he stared at her, his eyes scanning her own features for something that she wasn’t sure of.

“M’not worried,” he replied, his hands tucked in his pockets. Silence fell between them, both of them looking into each other’s eyes, neither of them willing to be the first one to say goodbye.

Suddenly he stepped forward, slipping his arms around her waist tightly. She stood frozen against his form for a moment, her eyes wide at the sudden intimacy. For a second, Harry feared that maybe he’d taken it too far. Maybe she didn’t want this.

But then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. The second she did he held her tighter, as if he could maybe keep her with him forever if he simply tried hard enough. His palms rested at the small of her back, his fingers splayed out to cover as much area as possible—her fingers tangled in the curls at the back of his neck.

She hid her face in his chest, and he nuzzled his lips into her hair, inhaling her scent softly. He never noticed that she smelled like lavender, but he would never forget it. He held onto her for what seemed like forever, yet it didn’t feel like long enough at all.

At the end of the night, both of them went their separate ways without saying much. And maybe that was their biggest flaw, or their greatest mistake.

Because both of them had so much to say, yet neither of them said anything at all.

There was only one song left.

One song that they needed to finish to make the album complete. He had been in the studio for a month straight now, and his album was almost complete—he was incredibly proud of what they’d accomplished, and every song was more or less finished other than small touches there and there.

But there was something missing.

“How do yeh like the pitch in this riff section, Harry?”

“Hm?” Harry jumped slightly as he was brought back to Earth from his thoughts of daisies and lavender. He looked up at Mitch, who was staring at him with confusion and an arched brow, gently slapping his hand against Harry’s shoulder.

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine,” Harry said, rubbing at his eyes softly before spinning around in his chair, turning away from the sound booth. “Play around with the riffs for a minute if yeh want, m’gonna work on somethin’ new.”

“Sounds good,” Mitch agreed, taking a seat in the chair beside Harry and grabbing a set of headphones. When he was writing Harry had a habit of wandering off on his own to work sometimes, and everyone there who worked with him previously was used to it. It was often during those moments alone when he wrote his best material.

He stood up and walked out of the room, grabbing an acoustic guitar from its stand on the way out. He made his way to a small side room and closed the door behind him, sitting down on the couch and setting the guitar in his lap as he began to play with the strings.

His mind swam with lavender and flower petals.

Hours later he sat in the sound booth, playing the full song for the first time. His fingers trembled as he played it, his voice occasionally rasping with emotion as he sang. He still had to look at the lyrics on the page, but for the most part he had it completely memorized solely because of how much it meant to him.

“It sounds amazing, Harry,” Mitch said when he was finished, pulling Harry out of his trance. He looked up from his sheet music and smiled, reaching to brush away the stray lock of hair that fell at his forehead. “What’s it called?”

“Flower Girl,” he announced, his heart leaping at the confession.

“Must’ve really loved her,” Mitch mused, flashing Harry a knowing smile. He chuckled, lowering his gaze to his guitar as he started playing the tune again, the lighthearted melody filling the air as he hummed softly.

The time away from home, away from her, had only solidified and brought to light what he didn’t have the guts to admit before leaving.

He was absolutely in love with her, and he wouldn’t let her go again.

It had been two months since Harry had left, and business was booming.

She was busier than ever, which provided a much needed distraction from missing him. She was filling out orders and had even had to hire someone to make deliveries, and she was going to have to start outsourcing more now that she didn’t have the capacity to grow all of her flowers in her little greenhouse. She was working hard and she absolutely loved it, but there was always something missing, and she felt that ache constantly.

She was in the back room reading a book when she heard the dinging of the front door.

“I’ll be with you in a minute!” She called out, shutting the book and setting it aside as she stood up and walked out into the store. Before she could there was another ding, and the store was empty. She stood at the counter, puzzled, until she saw the note that had been left on the counter. It was small and didn’t say much, except for an address, a time, and a pair of initials.

H.S.

Her heart almost fell out of her chest at the realization that this was from Harry, and it almost felt like some weird dream. She’d been waiting for him to come back for so long, and once two months had passed without a word from him she was starting to believe that maybe he had grown tired of her.

She checked her watch—she had two hours before she was supposed to meet up with him.

That evening she closed up the shop early, heading home to get ready.

Two hours later she was driving up to the address that she’d plugged into her GPS—she was wearing a white sundress with pastel purple sandals, and her daisy necklace. She had absolutely no clue where this address was taking her, but she found herself practically bouncing up and down with excitement at the reality that she was going to see her best friend again. It was almost too good to be true, but she didn’t let herself give into her doubts, not that night.

It was still light outside when she drove up to the address, which ended up taking her to a small park that she had been to a couple of times since she moved there almost a year earlier. She stepped out of the car and looked around curiously, her heart in jitters as she waited for Harry to make some sort of appearance.

From the distance she saw a small pathway, with what looked like rose petals on the gravel. She began walking towards it and discovered that yes, the pathway had been decorated with what must have been over a thousand rose petals, and she could only assume that it was a sign.

She couldn’t help the smitten smile that appeared on her lips as she began walking down the path, bending down every so often to scoop up a handful of petals and let them fall again through her fingers.

When she finally reached the end of the path she walked into a clearing, and what she saw absolutely took her breath away.

There was a large fountain in the centre of the clearing, the sounds of the trickling water making its way into her ears. All around the opening there were flowers—roses, tulips, daisies, hydrangeas, sunflowers, every kind of flower that could possibly be growing at that time of the year was there, in bunches and bushes that surrounded the clearing entirely. The colors reminded her of fireworks, and she was overwhelmed with the joy that she felt.

Then she saw Harry.

He was sitting at the edge of the fountain, one leg folded over the other. He was wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a patterned t-shirt, a loud, obnoxious blue and purple pattern decorating his torso. He was grinning like an absolute doofus, and she was smiling so hard that her cheeks hurt.

“Harry, what is this?!” She giggled as she walked towards him, doing a little twirl on her way so that she could get a look at everything. He stood up and began walking towards her, meeting her halfway.

“S’yours,” he said, reaching to take both of her hands in his and lift them to his lips. He inhaled softly, his lips smiling at the familiar lavender scent.

“Mine?” She choked, her eyes widening. She was thrown off by both the announcement and the feeling of Harry pressing his lips against her knuckles, something that he had never done before, but it brought tingles to her chest.

“Mhm,” he grinned, nodding his head. “The conservatory’s been here for years, but the owner apparently passed this last month and the lawyer’s been lookin’ for someone to take over the estate. When I heard, I told’em I had the perfect person in mind.”

“Harry…” she gasped softly, giving his hands a squeeze instinctively.

“I love you,” he blurted out, exhaling a nervous chuckle along with the words. “I was, um…I was gonna say this big speech, about all this cheesy stuff an’ how when I met you I didn’t know you were gonna be so important to me, and how the universe put us together fo’ a reason, an’ how I never wanna spend two seconds away from you again let alone two months…but I love you. I just love you, and there’s no simpler, more honest way to put it. I am in love with you!”

He shouted the last sentence out loud, and she giggled, overcome with giddiness at his revelation. When she giggled he began to laugh as well, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly and scooping her up off of the ground to give her a little spin, setting her back down on the ground afterwards.

“Do yeh love me?” He asked, eyes twinkling with hope.

“Oh, you silly boy,” she grinned, standing up on her toes to nuzzle her nose against his in a gentle eskimo kiss. “Yes. Yes, I love you. I do. Of course I do.”

He immediately pressed his lips against hers, and it felt like finally coming home.

They spend hours in her garden, skipping and rolling around in the grass. They felt the happiest that they ever had, and they couldn’t believe how long it had taken them to finally come together.

Their love was like a flower, and it bloomed oh so beautifully.

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