Chapter Text
Loki Laufeyson had never been one for sentimentalities. He had grown to think of love as a weakness - possibly because of everything he had found himself going through in his youth - along with so many other positive feelings that never failed to fascinate and soften everyone around him. Pathetic. But even so, much to his dismay, his heart wasn't as bulletproof as he would've liked it to be.
« I'll take one of those » he muttered begrudgingly, pointing his finger to a specific set of red and white flowers a few feet from him.
Clearly.
« That is a wonderful choice, sir! » exploded an excited voice behind him, and Loki rapidly took a step to the right to let a young woman zip through.
Her very long, very dark hair were dancing on her back as she moved. Loki remained there, eyes fixed on her little form made even prettier by a knee-length yellow dress. He felt stupid, immensely stupid. He hated that feeling.
« I'm sure your, ah, girlfriend will appreciate this selection even more » proclaimed the cute florist right taking the enormous basket of flowers in her tiny arms and beginning to walk towards the cash register.
« You sure you don't need hel- »
Loki swiftly grabbed the young girl's arm as she almost tripped on her own feet, throwing her a confused look when he heard her laugh.
« It's routine! I'm fine, I'm fine » she spoke, wobbling her way to the counter « You couldn't believe how many times I've crashed my butt on the floor of this place. You can say I'm pretty experienced now »
She dropped the basket on the wooden surface with clear satisfaction painted on her pale figures, and threw Loki a brilliant smile that made his stomach tangle and his lips move upwards. He furrowed his brow a second later and painfully pinched himself - punishment had always been the best motivator. The florist looked confused for a second, like she was asking herself if the stranger in her shop was indeed a bipolar maniac came to poison all of her flowers in the purpose of throwing them out on the streets and kill dozens of people for his own mad pleasure. Uh, not a bad plan actually. To be remembered, he appointed myself. But the thought had clearly been dismantled in her mind, as she had quickly recovered her happy attitude and was now working on the flowers he had just bought.
« Girls love flowers » she spoke, her cerulean eyes timidly and briefly meeting his every couple of seconds « Especially roses! Oh, roses are so romantic. And you chose red and white. Yours must be a lucky girl indeed »
« I don't have a... girlfriend » such a childish way of addressing the role of a romantic partner « I don't have anyone, really »
« You don't? » came the surprised answer, the young woman's fingers almost getting in the way of the long scissors she was using to trim the beautiful flowers. « I'm okay, I swear, I'm okay! I just, ah, thought... you've been here a lot in the last few weeks, and bought so many flowers that... I'm sorry I've assumed »
She shook her head, hair moving everywhere. Loki felt some kind of hideous, warm feeling in his chest that had been bothering him for the same several weeks the florist had just spoken about. He resisted the urge to groan and just sighed as a response.
« Don't fret. I am, as it turns out, extremely fond of flowers » Loki spoke with a dreadfully apathetic voice, funnily in contrast with what he had just said.
Bipolar maniac.
The girl did not seem to care, and smiled at him with her usual brightness.
« Flowers are beautiful » she agreed, edging forward on the table to inhale the sweet scent of a white rose that was closest to her face.
Loki observed her, observed everything that was her, and fixed his eyes on her trembling eyelids and on her soft lips that were silently smiling. Unfortunately, he was liking what he was seeing: too much for his own comfort and possibly too much for the one of the cute florist as well.
« Well, whoever these flowers are for... » the young woman spoke again, draping a red ribbon all around the basket and beginning to braid it in a pretty way « ...I really hope they enjoy it! Flowers can bring much happiness to one's life »
Will they? Will they bring happiness to mine? He thought to himself, his mouth a straight line. He had done terrible things, often enjoying doing them, and couldn't start to imagine a world in which everything could be forgiven and his life could really taste like a life worth living. But luckily, the cute florist wasn't aware of any of that. To her he might have just looked like a tall and possibly creepy stranger who loves to buy flowers in her little shop. She might be enduring his presence only to sigh in relief as soon as he was out of the door, the muscles in her shoulders relaxing when the threat of a possible maniac was out of her way. His body got stiff, and the girl noticed.
« You... wait a minute. Just a minute! » she raised her hands, getting away from the counter with fast pace « Please, remain there! It won't take but a minute! »
And then she disappeared in the intricate labirinth that was her shop; gigantic and beautifylly decoreted vases of flowers obscured the eye, adorned by much smaller daisies and lilac of bright colors and soft shapes. They all smelled of something and yet... he wasn't feeling overwhelmed. Somehow, they all seemed to work well together. The whole shop smelled as if it had been dipped in some bowl of scented sparkling water, strong enough to be felt but light enough to caress your senses. Loki closed his eyes for a second and brought a couple of fingers up to the bridge of his nose. You can't do that, he warned himself. This is madness!
« Here I am! » spoke the fesity young florist, appearing at his side with a curious looking flower in her hands.
He threw her a puzzled look, and she shook her head with a knowing smile on her face.
« This one is called "Bird of paradise" » she brushed one of the, er, he guessed they could be called petals, within her thumb and index finger « I admit it has an odd shape. But... »
She brought the flower closer to him and, by extension, to his body. He got stiff again, but couldn't compel himself into not looking at her beautiful sun-yellow dress: it had tiny red daisies printed on it, he noticed. Her hair was falling over her naked shoulders, and they were slightly touching his chest. Loki slowly breathed through his nose, his eyes concentrating on the honestly quite ugly flower she was handing him.
« Did you know flowers have meanings? This one means joy and, well, paradise » she chuckled adorably, her eyes fixed on colored petals « It will take care of you, I can tell »
And just like that, Loki found himself holding a long and orange and spikey flower that apparently was supposed to bring him joy. Or happines. Or both. Oh, how young and pure were these humans. But for reasons to him unknown, or even better, known to the part of his being he had decided to ignore, he kept it and didn't protest when she moved away again, making him lose the opportunity to beg her to put it back.
« Well. I suppose we'll have to add this, ah, "Bird of paradise" to the bill... »
The florist shook her head with a determined expression on her rounded face.
« Don't even dream of it. It's on the house »
She smiled once again and pushed the now adorned basket towards him, relaxing her arms on top of the counter and observing him with a gentle light in her cerulean eyes. He stared at her, possibly a bit intimidating, what with his inscrutable expression and all, and took a few steps back right before the situation risked becoming socially awkward.
« Thank you. I appreciated it » he said, biting his own tongue, acting like a fool and wishing he could smash his head against a wall because of it.
The florist clapped like a child, her smile widening.
« Please, come back for more! » she replied, waving a hand at him as goodbye.
Her tone sounded much eager and hopeful than he would've liked to notice, nevertheless Loki chose to not add anything and to walk in direction of the exit. He opened the door and closed it behind him, breathing the clear air of the outside. His brain cleared up a bit, but he disappointigly had to recognize that the wonderfully sweet smell of the flower shop was still on his clothes. Or in his head.
« Finally, brother! » came a thunderous voice at his side, and Loki had just the time to roll his eyes to the back of his head before a giant man appeared into his line of view.
« Are you done? Which flowers have you bought today? » Thor tried to spy in his basket, but Loki forcefully pushed it against his chest and barely gave him time to lift his arm to welcome the weight of the large number of flowers.
« You can have them » Loki shrugged his shoulders, eyes pointed to the woods in the distance that made that whole street a whole lot prettier.
Especially with the brightly colored flower shop being in the middle of it.
Thor sighed.
« I will bring them to Amber. She will know what to do with them »
Loki did not care. He started walking with his hands in the pockets of his black suit, leaving Thor behind and thinking of the girl he had been visiting so much. He couldn't even ask her name, and yet he probably had been the most source of income of the last month for her. He couldn't help himself. The florist had just caught his eyes, unexpectadly, and her attitude had done nothing but drag him further in. It was stupid, and reckless. She's just human, he thought with clear disgust. And yet... and yet. She was pretty, and her smile was pretty as well. She always wore colorful clothes – yellow, light blue, green, pink, red – and she always welcomed customers with the brightest and sweetest smile she could master. She talked with anyone of anything. He saw her chat with old ladies, play games with old men and entertain young children to give a moment of rest to their exhausted mothers. Moreover, she was good. Too good for a man like he was. Loki stopped and observed the bizarre flower she had gifted him. It was ugly, yes, and it was orange – not his favorite color. Nonetheless, it smelt nice. And it possessed some sort of aura that made Loki squint his eyes in affection at it. Weird, and scary. Loki sighed once again, lowering the flower – but not letting go of it – resuming his walk in direction of the base. He would've visited again, of that he was sure.