#but IF phil did something wrong he probably OVERwatered a lot of them

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

I'm calling bullshit (lovingly) on dan's short about the plants being dead. one of those is a sansevieria (now reclassified as dracaena), and those are well known for being sturdy af. mine's been in my bathroom surviving on no light and just the humidity from my showers for months, if not a full year by now, and it's fine. I've seen people do tests with them where they get put in completely dark rooms with no water and they come out looking perfectly fine.

That plant was dying way before dan even left for tour.

[itsmyusualphannie]

you had me at hydrangea

Chapter 3/6 - aloe you vera much

“I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands.” ― Francesca Lia Block, Dangerous Angels

a phan flower shop/video editor au

(read on ao3) - start from the beginning!

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~~~

Dan missed Phil, ridiculously. It’d been a total of seven days since Phil had stopped by the flower shop. Logically, Dan knew that he was probably just busy with the project he was working on, but Phil had left the shop early last Thursday, presumably to pack for his trip to see his parents, and he hadn’t even come on Monday. Although Phil came in only on Mondays half of the time, he almost always showed up on Thursdays around two o’clock. It was Thursday again, almost 3 in the afternoon, and Phil was late.

Dan had to force himself not to stare at the door. It was torture.

“You know, you could help!” Louise said from the back room.

Dan did not want to help. In fact, he was disgruntled that Louise was even here today. He had specifically told her soon after Phil had started coming by that she was to leave as soon as her shift ended at noon on Thursdays, but apparently a shipment had arrived late today and she had to be here. Dan was sure that she just wanted to watch him try to talk to Phil.

“Dan!” called Louise, with a firm tone.

Sighing very heavily, Dan heaved himself off the stool and went into the back. Louise was clutching a handful of ribbon spools and a heap of disorganized flowers. She looked relieved upon seeing him.

“Good,” she said, thrusting the flowers at him. “Go sort these into the bins. I accidentally dropped them.”

Dan sighed again, very put upon, but took them. He trudged into the front room, beginning to separate the flowers and drop them into the correct cases. Louise followed him, trying to untangle one of the ribbons.

“So…” she started brightly, “when will Phil be here?”

Dan scowled at the hydrangeas. “He’s usually here by two.”

“Oh,” Louise said, sounding disappointed. “He’s late. Do you think he’s coming?”

“I don’t know.” Dan moved to another bin and Louise trailed behind him. “You need to ask him out,” she encouraged.

Dan rolled his eyes, though he had his back to Louise and she couldn’t see it. He didn’t want to talk about Phil, but Louise was persistent.

“Coffee,” she suggested. Her hands moved rapidly over the tangled ribbon. Dan could see the movements over his shoulder and he was reluctantly impressed by her ability to unknot things. It probably came with having two daughters that loved getting things tangled up.

“He brings coffee,” said Dan. “Every time. Either from his home or the coffee shop down the block.”

“Get his number,” Louise said firmly.

“Ugh,” said Dan in reply. His handful of various flowers was almost halfway sorted and he wanted out of this conversation. The hanging ivy pot above him had been overwatered and it dripped onto his shoes as he fit a pair of tulips into their proper container.

“Invite him to your piano recital next month!” said Louise, suddenly excited.

Dan felt bleak at even the mention of his recital. “God, no,” he said. “I haven’t even gotten my last piece finished yet. And stop reminding me about that.”

Louise patted his shoulder sympathetically. She had to reach up very far to do so, but didn’t seem to mind the effort. “You’ll do great,” she assured him. “You have a few more weeks to finish it and practice.”

Dan crammed the last bunch of daisies into their bin. “Yeah,” he agreed. He wasn’t going to tell her that he hadn’t even started it. “When are you leaving?”

Louise would probably have been insulted if she wasn’t used to Dan’s bluntness by now. She just poked Dan in the side as a reprimand and said, “Probably in a few minutes. I’ve gotten most of it unpacked.”

“If he comes in while you’re here,” Dan told her, “do not speak to him. At all.”

She was smiling. “Okay, Dan.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “Don’t.”

“I said okay.” Louise patted him again, her eyes scrunched with the effort not to laugh loudly at him. She headed to the back again and Dan stared after her in frustration. Sometimes, he wondered why he even worked here. If they hadn’t been friends and she hadn’t needed to spend more time with her daughters, he would never have accepted her job offer. He didn’t fit in here. It was too...bright.

The ivy pot dripped onto his head.

“Fuck off,” Dan told it. He went back to the counter and dropped onto his seat again. Louise hadn’t told him to follow her, after all. He glared at the sheets and sheets of scrawled notes and music across the counter. They were awful. Nothing seemed to come out right, and he wanted to just shred everything and start all over again. He wanted Phil to be here and cast secretive looks at the papers so Dan could maybe, this time, have the courage to tell him what he was writing. He wanted...he wanted a lot.

He wanted Phil to ask him out.

But it had gone so awkwardly that first time he thought Phil was going to ask him out, technically the second time that they had met, that Dan had been too afraid to bring it up. It had been almost three months ago, a few minutes after Dan arrived to take the shift from Louise and the second time Phil had ever come in.

Dan hadn’t realized Phil had been in the shop until he’d held out a handful of tulips for Dan to ring up. Dan had been leaning over his sheet music, angrily scribbling over the last twelve horrible notes he’d written, when the bright yellow tulips were thrust under his nose. He’d almost fallen backwards off the stool and had flailed, grabbing Phil’s outstretched arm to regain his balance.

“Fuck,” Dan had said, hastily correcting his balance and releasing Phil’s arm. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Phil had smiled at him, but it hadn’t been a mean smile, and Dan had liked it instantly. “Are you okay?”

Dan had mumbled assent and clambered to his feet, ringing up the purchase. He’d snuck little glances at Phil, almost in disbelief that such a beautiful man had come back to this little hole-in-the-wall shop. He could barely remember the first time that Phil had come in, about three weeks ago. “It’s been a while,” he’d said, handing the flowers and Phil’s change back to him, then felt sheepish that he had said it.

“You remembered!” Phil had said. He looked thrilled. “Yes, I...I’ve been busy. But I wanted to see you again.”

“You did?” Dan had felt that annoying little patch on his cheek starting to burn.

But Phil had been blushing too. “I...yeah. I, actually, I wanted to ask you if -”

The front door had blasted open, interrupting Phil, and he’d taken a hasty step back from the counter. Louise had swept in, her blonde curls flying. She’d rushed past Dan and into the back, then emerged seconds later.

“Forgot my phone,” she’d said to Dan. She hadn’t noticed Phil, whose bright orange shirt matched the case of garish marigolds behind him, but she reached up to fix the twisted collar of Dan’s t-shirt.

He’d leaned a little toward her, barely sparing her a glance. He hadn’t wanted to look away from Phil, who had gone quiet and unobtrusive. “You’re useless,” Dan had told her, but she’d just laughed and stood on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“See you tonight, darling.” She’d left immediately after that, and Dan was left alone again with Phil. He had been irritated that Louise had reminded him of her friend’s wedding that she’d convinced him to play for tonight. He didn’t want to think about it until it was actually happening. Generally, he never wanted to think about things until they were upon him.

“You wanted to ask me something?” Dan had said to Phil, trying to forget what Louise had mentioned. He’d hoped desperately that Phil would ask him out. Ask him anywhere.

“Oh,” Phil had managed, glancing after the door that was still inching its way shut. “I just...wanted to ask you. Where you got that shirt.”

Dan had glanced down at the plain black t-shirt that he wore. “Um. Primark? I think.”

“Cool!” Phil had shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Okay. I’ll...see you later, then. Bye!” He’d left the shop in a flustered rush and Dan had been left standing awkwardly alone.

Dan had felt ridiculously self-conscious and uneasy after the encounter, but it had faded by the next time Phil came in, exactly a week later. Phil had never asked him out, though, and Dan certainly wasn’t going to mention anything. Then Phil had started coming every week, sometimes twice a week, and every time he stepped through the door with his bright smile and stupid face, Dan’s hopes of being asked out were renewed. Maybe today would be the day...if Phil ever actually got here.

“Daniel!” Louise was bellowing, and Dan’s head snapped around. He didn’t realize that he had been off in his own head, but from the tone of Louise’s voice, she had called for him a few times already.

“What?” he yelled back at her.

“What’s wrong with the speaker?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you about it like ten times already. It hasn’t been working for almost four months, so I put it in the back.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Louise. “I guess I should replace it.”

She’d said that about five times already.

“You should,” Dan agreed. “It’s sad in here with no music playing.”

Louise came out of the back room, typing away on her phone. “I’m adding it to my shopping list,” she announced. “I’m sure the flowers will appreciate it.”

Dan sighed and leaned against the counter, his back to the door. The sheet music slipped under his elbows and he barely managed to retain his balance on the narrow stool. “I don’t think they’ll care. Most of them are clipped and dead anyway.”

Louise pointed a long finger at him, her pink nail accusing. “Don’t say that,” she ordered. “They’ll hear you.”

“You sound like Phil,” Dan said, smiling fondly at the thought without intending to do so.

Louise caught the expression and her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t ask him out,” she said, still pointing, “then I’m going to.”

“He’d be a good dad,” Dan told her.

“I bet he would,” she said, tone laced with sarcasm, “and I’m sure that means a very different thing to you than it does to me, who has actual kids.”

Dan was offended at her insinuation. “I do not have a daddy kink!” he insisted.

That, of course, was when he realized that the door to the shop had been opened. Louise’s eyes widened with glee and Dan cringed so hard he thought his head might retreat into his neck.

Please don’t be Phil, he thought wretchedly. He turned his head ever-so-slowly.

It was Phil.

Louise cackled from behind Dan.

“Hi,” said Phil. He was smiling.

Dan wanted to throw himself into the bin under the counter to join his crumpled attempts at sheet music. “Hhhhh,” was all he could get out.

Louise emerged from Dan’s shadow and out past the counter. “Hello!” she said to Phil. “I’m not allowed to speak to you. Goodbye!”

“I actually fucking hate you,” Dan said, but he hadn’t actually said it. He had thought it very intensely at Louise. She almost certainly received the message, with the ferocity of Dan’s glare, but she only waved cheerfully at them both and then left.

Dan closed his eyes, very briefly. “Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Sure,” Phil agreed amiably. The amusement was clear in his voice.

Dan opened his eyes but couldn’t bring himself to meet Phil’s gaze. He noticed the lack of a computer bag on Phil’s shoulder. “Not staying?” he forced himself to say, instead of wallowing in his mortification.

“Oh, no, unfortunately,” Phil said. He looked disappointed upon saying it. “I have a meeting with my supervisor, actually. It’ll be terrifying. I wanted to stop by and get some flowers for him.”

Dan thought that it was a strange thing to get for one’s boss, but who was he to judge? He had never gotten gifts for Louise or his talent manager. Maybe that’s why he was a terrible employee.

“Okay,” he said. “What did you want to get?”

Phil looked at him, a pleading smile on his lips. “I dunno. What do you think I should get? What bouquet do you think could imply ‘sorry for being slow at my job and I promise I’ll get this one in on time’?”

Dan gave him an unamused stare. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know anything about flowers and their meanings? And I don’t think there are any that will give quite that...specific…of a message.”

Phil moved closer and it was only then that Dan really paid attention to the thick-rimmed glasses he was wearing, matching the black stripes on his tight button-up shirt. His sleeves were too short, and his jaw was bristly with an afternoon shadow. He looked fucking hot. Dan wanted to punch him, maybe. It should be illegal to go out in public looking like that.

“Fine,” Dan said, instead of just staring at Phil’s bare arms. He yanked out his phone and glowered at the black screen, which unapologetically reflected the deep bags under his own eyes and his uncontrollably messy hair. He felt hideous compared to Phil. “I’ll look up ‘flowers for a boss.’”

“Thanks!” Phil said brightly, as if he didn’t have his own phone and search engine that he could use to look it up.

Dan thought that Phil was probably a sadist. There was no way he didn’t know what he looked like and the effect he would have on anyone nearby that had good eyeballs and a healthy sex drive. Dan pressed his phone screen a little too hard as he typed in ‘how to make someone ask you out,’ then hastily deleted it and asked Google ‘what are good flowers for a boss.’ Google confidently informed him that there were many excellent choices and gave him a list.

“Carnations,” Dan told Phil after briefly perusing the options. “Light red ones. They express admiration or whatever. And they go well with baby’s breath.”

Phil’s glasses made his eyes seem impossibly bluer than they usually were. “That sounds great!” he said.

Dan regretted that the filler flowers and the carnations were all in the racks behind him. If they hadn’t, maybe he could get closer to Phil and get an unobtrusive, closer sniff of the cologne he could smell from here. That wasn’t creepy at all, he tried to convince himself. He turned to pull down a generous handful of baby’s breath and added them to a pre-arranged bouquet of pale red carnations, then wrapped and bagged them. Phil had moved right up against the counter, his long fingers resting against the edge of it.

“Here you are.” Dan offered the flowers and Phil traded them for a credit card. As Dan rung up the purchase, he could see Phil poking at the bobble-head Luigi by the till.

“Is this yours?” Phil asked.

“Do you like Mario Kart?” Dan asked in reply.

“I love it!” said Phil. Luigi wobbled under his prodding finger.

“So do I,” Dan said, incredibly pleased for no reason that he could identify. “But I almost never play it.”

“Neither do I,” Phil admitted. “It’s no fun playing by myself, and my brother doesn’t visit very often.”

Dan didn’t know whether to feel better that Phil also had no friends that played Mario Kart or ridiculous for wanting to admit that he didn’t either. He handed Phil’s card back. “That’s sad,” was all he could think of to say.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed. He put the card away and just stood there for a very long moment, clearly musing something over. A finger came up to rub hesitantly at his lower lip and Dan couldn’t tear his gaze away from the movement. “Do you…” Phil began, tentatively, “well, this is probably weird, but...do you want to come over sometime and play with me?”

Dan thought hysterically for a second that ‘play’ meant something very different, and then it struck him. Phil was inviting him over. “Yes!” he said, probably too desperately.

Phil looked exuberant. “Really? I mean...great!”

“Great,” Dan echoed, his stomach twisting in excitement.

“Great!” Phil said again. His eyes behind the glasses were brilliant with delight. “I’ll...maybe Sunday?”

“Yes,” Dan said.

The bag crunched under Phil’s grip. “I’ll text you the address to my flat!” he said. “It’s not very far from here. Do you like pizza?”

That was a ridiculous question. “Of course I do,” said Dan. “Who doesn’t?”

“We’ll have pizza and Mario Kart, then.” Phil’s fingers were tight around the bag of flowers.

Dan couldn’t look away from him. He was aware that he was grinning ridiculously at Phil, but Phil had the same wide smile, so Dan didn’t feel self-conscious about it. “That sounds perfect,” he told Phil. He wondered feebly if it would count as a date. It felt like it might.

“Okay. Good. Great.” Phil took a step backwards toward the door. “I’ll see you then!”

Dan waved, an awkward flap of his hand, but Phil’s delighted expression didn’t waver as he left the shop. “Bye!”

A few seconds passed and Dan had to catch his breath from the suddenness of everything that had just happened. He felt breathless and giddy with disbelief. He needed to tell Louise. Grabbing his phone from where he’d dropped it, he typed out an urgent message to Louise. ‘invited to phls flat snday not a drill’

His phone rang approximately two and a half seconds later. Louise’s tone was shrill on the other end. “What?” she demanded. “What happened? Tell me everything!”

Dan hunched over the counter, his voice high with the excitement of it. “Phil! The Luigi bobblehead! He asked me to play Mario Kart at his flat! With pizza!”

At this point in their friendship, Louise could easily decipher his gibberish sentences. “So it’s a date?” she screeched.

“I mean, sort of,” his words stumbled over each other, “maybe? To be determined, I think.”

“If you get laid, you owe me,” she said, ecstatic.

“Louise!” he said in reproval, but he was too exhilarated to be bothered by her crudeness. Music notes had begun to spin and dance through his mind, spurned by his mood, and he ached to get them down before they left him. “I have to go,” he told her.

“But you haven’t told me what he said!” she complained.

“I have to write,” he said and promptly hung up on her. His phone chimed with message notifications almost instantly, but he’d already abandoned his phone to snatch up the pencil. It flew across the ledger lines as he urgently scrawled the notes that flew through his mind.

“Um, hi again,” said Phil, and Dan almost threw the pencil.

“Sorry,” said Phil, the apologetic laughter clear in his expression as Dan’s head flew up in fright and his gaze found the figure by the door.

“I fucking hate you,” Dan said. He was lucky he hadn’t been sitting on the stool or he definitely would have fallen to the floor with the adrenaline that had coursed through him at the unexpected voice. He hoped Phil hadn’t been standing there long enough to hear him babbling at Louise.

“I said I’d text you,” said Phil, “but I don’t have your number.” He raised the phone in his hand, face contrite. The bagged bouquet was limp in his other hand.

Dan finally was able to breathe and he shoved his phone across the counter, fingers of his other hand still clenched around the pencil with the intensity of his writing. “Send yourself a message with it.” He realized his mistake the instant Phil picked up his phone, and his mouth dropped open in sudden terror, but Phil apparently hadn’t read Louise’s rapidly-appearing messages, as his expression remained consistently neutral while he typed away at the phone. He handed it back a few moments later, his own phone vibrating with the notification. “Thanks. Sorry again for scaring you.”

“You didn’t - I wasn’t.” Dan tried to glower at him, but the effect was ruined by the thrill of his anticipation. “I don’t even like you.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Phil grinned, waving his phone with the message that he had received from Dan’s phone. “Okay. Bye for real. I’m going to be late.”

“Bye,” said Dan, watching him go this time.

He very much appreciated the tight jeans Phil wore.

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