#plant daddy verse 🪴💚

[spicycinnabun]

“Steve, something is wrong with Christofern!” Eddie entered Steve’s room, cradling the potted plant in his arms.

He’d come home after work, ready to greet his bud-dy, but one look at him had made Eddie gasp. His leaves were shriveled up like sad little green raisins. Usually, they were puffed up like oversized Rice Krispies.

Christofern had been Robin’s, originally. It had been in a very sorry state on her windowsill before she’d left for college—a lot worse than it looked now, under Eddie’s care, thank you—and she’d told him, “I honestly can’t stand the thing. You keep it. It sheds worse than my aunt’s Great Pyrenees, and I’m tired of vacuuming. Just don’t throw it out, or Steve might murder you.”

And that had been that.

Christofern didn’t look like a typical house plant. He wasn’t a fern, which Steve kept reminding him. Steve was more practical. He didn’t give his plants names but called them by their designated labels.

Christofern was a Donkey’s Tail, or sedum morganianum, part of the succulent family. That term meant absolutely nothing to Eddie unless it was referring to a big bowl of pasta—he had no idea there was a whole plant category called delicious.

“But maybe he wants to be a fern, Steven,” he’d argued. “Ever thought of that? He doesn’t have to be a succulent just because he was assigned so at birth.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” had been Steve’s reply.

At first, Eddie had enlisted Steve’s help purely because he’d wanted his attention, and talking about plants was an easy as hell way to get Steve’s attention. Steve was a very passionate plant dad. But later, Eddie grew to love Christofern, and the trials and tribulations of learning how to care for him were almost like raising his own child.

Christofern had not just one but seven long, thickly spiked green tails. Seven tails. He reminded Eddie of a mutated dragon. He was adorable but occasionally grumpy and high-maintenance, like a certain someone Eddie knew. (Perhaps Christofern was more of a prince than a dragon—a dragon prince?)

If he didn’t get enough sunlight, his leaves shed, and he wilted. If he wasn’t rotated daily, he got yellow and sunburnt. And if he didn’t get enough water…

“I swear I watered him... uh, recently.” When had Eddie last watered him? Not the day before, but maybe Wednesday? Or had it been Tuesday? Shit. Eddie pouted. “I just gave him a drink now, anyway. It’s not too late, is it, Doctor Steve?”

He clasped his hands and watched Steve’s attentive eyes rove over his plant, waiting for the diagnosis.

“Eddie, how could you neglect Christofern like this? I should call Plant Protective Services.” Steve grabbed his hand, startling Eddie and his overactive heartbeat.

He took Eddie’s index finger and pushed it into Christofern’s soil right down to his second knuckle. It felt inappropriate. Eddie made a noise, appalled. “Steven, why are you making me violate Christofern?”

Steve ignored him. “What do you feel? The soil is soaked down there, isn’t it?”

Eddie wiggled his finger. It felt goopy. “Yes,” he admitted.

“You’ve overwatered it,” Steve chastised. “Now, the leaves might rot instead of rehydrating themselves. You’ve got to make sure you don’t drown it. Christofern only needs a moderate amount of water every two weeks, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie said meekly. “I’m sorry, Christofern.”

Steve pulled his finger out of the soil and gave him a look bordering on amusement. “Leave him with me for a few days, and I’ll get him back to where he should be.”

“Thank you, Doctor Steve. How can I ever repay you?” Eddie imagined repaying Steve with his mouth, his tongue, his hands (after he washed the soil off)…

“You can clean the bathroom,” Steve said.

Eddie’s fantasy shattered. He whined. “Does it have to be that?”

“Yup.”

“Damn it, Steve, just make me suck your dick next time,” Eddie grumbled on his way out.

He missed the way Steve’s jaw dropped.

[spicycinnabun]

another ficlet from the same verse as i’m sorry, christofern 🪴

~

Eddie unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. He couldn’t breathe. The waiter was sneering down at him—at his piercings, tattoos, fingernails blackened with polish and chipping. He didn’t belong at this fine establishment, and it was noticeable to everyone.

The piano man was going to town playing a Beethoven Sonata near their table, and Eddie was this close to shoving him off the bench and showing him how to play some real fucking music.

But Steve was also sitting across from him, looking suave with his hair combed back like an old Hollywood movie star. He was beaming at Eddie, and Eddie was helpless to it.

Even if the menu was giving him a goddamn heart attack, and he was trying not to keel over behind it as Steve ordered the lobster bisque—to start.

Eddie ordered the garden salad.

Steve gave him a weird look. “You sure that's what you want? I thought you didn't like salad.”

“I’m sure,” Eddie said. The salad wouldn't demolish his wallet like any of the things that actually sounded good. “I’m turning over a new leaf. Eating healthier.”

“Uh-huh. You’re already as skinny as a string bean. I don't think you need to eat healthier. You probably need to eat more."

“No can do. I’ve become a slut for vegetables.” Eddie grinned. It was maniacal. “Can't resist a big, juicy cucumber in my mouth.”

The waiter left, looking deeply disturbed, and Steve kicked him under the table, blushing. “Eddie! Jesus.”

“What? Can't a man freely express his joy for deepthroating gourds?”

Steve choked on his water, putting the glass down hastily as he coughed. “You’re such a…” He didn't finish that sentence, but Eddie could fill in the blank.

💚🌱🌿💚

Their first course came, and Eddie pretended to like his salad.

“Yeah, you really look like you're into that,” Steve said, stirring his soup.

Eddie swallowed hard. “It’s absolutely succulent, Steven, thank you.”

He absolutely hated it. The slimy vinaigrette, too.

“Oh, man. Look at that string of pearls,” Steve said, letting it go as he pointed over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d like one of those.”

Usually, Eddie was the one lacking manners. “Kinda rude to point at people, baby.”

Also, pearls? Eddie was going to be in the red right after this dinner. He hoped Steve wasn’t expecting those any time soon.

Steve laughed, dropping his hand on the table. “No, I’m not. Look.”

Eddie turned in his chair, then groaned in realization when he saw what was hanging from the ceiling.

Steve wasn’t pointing at some woman wearing a pearl necklace. He was geeking out over a fucking plant. Even in public, he was a devoted plant daddy.

“We can get you one of those,” Eddie told him. Steve wanted a pearl plant? Done.

Steve leaned back in his seat, assessing him with his warm brown gaze. Eddie tried not to squirm. “What?”

“You don't like it here.”

Eddie balked. “I like it fine—” he started, then deflated a little under Steve’s skeptical eyebrow quirk. “Okay, I don't like it here. But you do, right?”

“It actually kinda reminds me of my parents.” Steve’s nose wrinkled. “I just wanted to have a good time with you and treat you to something special, but it backfired on me.”

Oh. Hell.

“Hey, it didn't backfire, sweetheart,” Eddie told him, voice low. His hand twitched. He wanted to reach across the table for Steve’s but knew he couldn’t—especially not here. Here, they were no more than friends.

“You wanna ditch and go get a pizza?” Steve asked, nails scratching along the crisp white tablecloth like he was thinking the same thing. “We can catch the next creature feature at the drive-in. Eat on the hood of my car?”

Eddie sighed, feeling his entire self relax. “Oh fuck yes, please. Let’s go.”

They grinned at each other and got up, slinging on their coats. They paid for their half-eaten meals. Neither of them tipped the snooty waiter.

Steve caught his hand in the parking lot as they walked to his car. It was risky, but the walk was less than a minute. They linked fingers.