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queenie-ofthe-void · 3 months ago

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A Florist's Least Favorite Holiday

Steddie || wc: 1.7k || rating: T || tags: fluff, this is a real thing that happened to me so I wrote about it

Valentine’s day is fucking awful. It’s the worst day of the year, and this year’s no different than the last five Valentine’s days Eddie’s worked in the floral shop.

Eddie’s stripped the thorns from over a thousand roses in the past two weeks, sorting them into buckets by color. The best part about his job is usually bringing a design to life, picking the perfect flowers to create an arrangement like a work of art. Yet somehow, Valentine’s day manages to suck the life out of that too, with little to no creativity between each one-dozen red roses arranged in a fake crystal vase.

Prepping over a month in advance, Eddie has taken almost four hundred orders for pick-up and delivery for the tiny, backwater town of Hawkins. They’re a small shop, with only himself, Chrissy, and Vickie as permanent workers. Thankfully, this year they were able to hire some temporary helpers to blow up balloons, make candy baskets, and take deliveries. Even with the help, that still leaves everything else to the three of them.

Regardless, he’s busting his ass. The newbies have left for both rounds of morning deliveries and the first round of afternoons. Chrissy’s working the counter while Vickie fields complaints. This leaves Eddie to wander the floor, helping confused husbands and boyfriends find the right pick for their spouses.

Working with customers to find something they’re happy with isn’t so bad. He likes guiding them towards answers to questions they didn’t think to ask. Like what their spouse wears, how their home is decorated, what their favorite color is. Every detail helps, and Eddie is, quite genuinely, always happy to help someone who asks– nicely.

He’s on his way back to the counter with an empty bucket in his arms when he spots a guy holding a few roses. Eddie watches, momentarily transfixed, as the man sticks his tongue out in concentration, swiping it over his lower lip. His brow’s furrowed, glancing back and forth between the single-stem lavender and pink roses in the display case in front of him.

Eddie can’t blame the guy, honestly. There’s over twenty different colored roses to choose from this year. Chrissy really went above and beyond to haggle with their suppliers. They’ve got the best of the best, truly something to brag about.

He sets the bucket down underneath a display table so it’s out of the way as he heads over to help. Eddie must catch his attention.

Bright lights from the display case reflect the light hazel tone to his russet colored eyes and shines golden against his softly styled brown hair. A fine dusting of moles across his face and neck perfectly complement his tanned skin.

The prettiest thing in a shop full of pretty things. A goddamn angel.

Except he’s wearing high-top Nike sneakers like the jocks used to wear, along with tight acid-washed jeans, and a grey Members Only jacket. The guy screams straight, ex-jock, fuck boy, even more evident by the two separate roses in his hand as he eyes up a third.

Still, he’s a customer in need. And Eddie is nothing if not a humble servant.

“Can I help you find something?” Eddie asks, only slightly more casual and flirty than his typical customer service voice.

The man’s lips part into a soft ‘oh’ as he stands and stares at him. Eddie quickly glances down at himself, scanning for stray stems or petals hanging from his apron. There’s nothing there, at least nothing worth gawking at. Maybe he’s got something in his teeth? Shit, he should’ve checked first.

“Uhh–,” the man says, intelligently, interrupting Eddie’s own internal spiral– “I was just looking at, you know.” He gestures to the buckets of roses without taking his eyes off Eddie. “I need one more, and can’t decide on a color.”

“Three roses, huh?” Eddie says, the joke rolling off the tip of his tongue before his mortified brain can prune it, “One for each girlfriend, that’s sweet of you.”

Fucking Christ. He wishes he’d kept the bucket of water to drown himself in, like this day can get any worse.

This beautiful, angel of a man scoffs at the unbecoming joke and yeah, Eddie can’t blame him. For someone who not only prides himself on his customer service skills, but also his charm, this is a royally large fuck up.

The man grabs the lavender rose, holding it out to Eddie along with the two other pink and white ones already in his hand. “This is for my best friend. This one–” he holds out the pink– “is for my adopted sister.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, before the guy cuts him off.

“And this one–” he shows off the white rose– “is for my Gran. I’m stopping by the cemetery on my way home and thought she’d like it.”

Forget drowning in a bucket of leaf water, Eddie deserves to be crushed under the weight of a million roses, thorns tearing him into tiny little pieces.

“Right,” Eddie huffs, annoyed with himself. He scrubs his hands roughly over his face, like he can erase the embarrassed flush burning up his neck to the tips of his ears. “I’m so sorry, man. I have no idea why I said that. It’s just–” Eddie waves his hand around the store– “it’s been a long day, and sometimes I think I’m funny when I’m really, really not. I’m not normally this awkward, and I’m typically much better at my job.”

At this, the guy smirks, like watching Eddie squirm is entertaining. It’s the least he can do, if his misery makes the man feel better. He eyes Eddie up and down, so slowly that Eddie feels like his skin's on fire. Probably the display lights... they can really heat up some days.

“Can you ring me up?”

Eddie nods, thankful how quickly he seems to let the entire confrontation go. They make their way to the counter, Chrissy eyeing him as he asks her to switch for a second. She eyes the customer and nudges Eddie, where he notices a playful smirk on her face. Jesus, she’s nosey. He only rolls his eyes as she walks off.

Doing his best to avoid eye contact, Eddie focuses solely on wrapping up the flowers in the pretty, heart-printed paper they bought specifically for the day, and ties a matching colored bow to each package.

He feels the unrelenting urge to fix this, unsure why it matters so much to him. This guy most likely won’t even be back until next year, just like the rest of the customers he’s helped today. Eddie shouldn’t treat this one customer any different because he’s cute.

And yet.

“I actually think you’re really sweet!” Eddie blurts, thrusting the packaged roses into the guy’s waiting arms. “Shit, I meant it’s sweet you’re buying them gifts. I didn’t mean you’re sweet. Not that you’re not sweet, I mean– goddamnit.”

He’s smiling at Eddie, like this is all an adorable spectacle and not the worst experience of every Valentine’s day Eddie’s ever had. God, that fucking smile makes Eddie’s insides melt.

“Really?” His voice is playful, if yet a little shy. Eddie buys into it, of course he does, desperate to make up for his flailing.

“Yeah, definitely sweet– adorable, even. Positively charming.” Eddie’s on better footing now, watching a rosy blush bloom underneath tanned freckles. There’s a line of customers grumbling about the wait, but Eddie doesn’t care, not so long as he gets to keep staring at the ray of sunshine smiling back at him.

His smile turns coy as he locks eyes with Eddie and says “I’m single, you know."

Eddie can’t think to respond over the roaring static in his ears, brain going into full shut-down mode. Did he just–

“What?” And Eddie’s back to being a total buffoon.

It must be cute though, because the guy laughs as he leans forward to grab one of the shop’s business cards next to the register. He writes something on it, then hands it back to Eddie who flips it around in his hands to read it.

Call me, and thanks for your help.

♥️ Steve

There’s a phone number listed below the man’s– Steve’s– name. An actual, honest to god phone number. From a man who looks like he could work in Hollywood for a living.

Eddie can feel his own face splitting in two with how hard he’s smiling. He reads the simple note once, twice, three times before he remembers where he is and who’s still standing in front of him.

Steve looks hopeful, eyes flitting between Eddie and the note as he fiddles with the bow on one of the packaged roses.

“Yes,” Eddie practically shouts, glee saturating his tone. “I’ll definitely call you tonight. Well–” Eddie glances around the shop, spotting the scattered empty buckets, piles of dead leaves on the ground, and the stack of unprocessed delivery tickets– “maybe I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And Steve nods, like it’s that easy, and shyly answers, “Can’t wait,” before heading out the door, sending a dorky little wave over his shoulder as he goes.

Somehow, Eddie manages to recover enough of his higher brain power to work the rest of the day. He falls back into routine: boxing vases, filing orders, dumping rotten plant water, scrubbing buckets, and organizing the back cooler. It’s almost midnight by the time he gets home, slightly earlier than he expected.

His feet ache like they always do, and he’s so emotionally drained that Eddie thinks he could go the rest of his life without talking to another customer ever again. Except he thinks, fiddling with Steve’s note, maybe there’s one customer he'd talk to again.

Tomorrow, though. Definitely tomorrow.

divider kudos <3