#i'm always gonna give these two a lil flirtationship

[corner-stories]

amateur horticulturalist

Bart Allen. Rose Wilson.

Apricots. Gardens. Flowers.

810 words.

(ao3.)

Titans Compound had many things to it — a computer room that could rival the Pentagon, a kitchen stocked with enough tea to last the millennium, and an armory full of wonderful toys that only a billionaire bat could procure. 

But somehow, the discovery of a greenhouse in the south end has Rose Wilson exceedingly confused. She stands in the doorway, perplexed as she takes in the sight of plant beds, growing trees, and flowers so lush she would swear they weren’t even real. As of now she had been living at the Compound for a month, yet now is the first time she’s stepping into this little slice of nature. 

The space mainly consists of one large bed that a medley of plants share, but in the back are smaller ones separated by glass walls, presumably to give each species the best environment to cultivate growth. 

In the midst of the mainbed is her generation’s speedster. Bart Allen kneels by a bed of herbs and gently uses a spray bottle to water their roots. 

Rose has known Bart longer than nearly anyone else on the team, but never in her life would she peg him as the green thumb type. 

For a moment Rose can only stare at the place in awe, then after a few minutes of looking utterly aghast she says the first words that come to mind.  

“What the fuck? When has this been here?”

Bart glances at her, then stands up straight with the spray bottle in hand.  

“Ever since the Compound was made, I think,” he answers. He takes a few steps to the left and begins gently spritzing the mint and parsley. “Kory helped build it. She left a whole buncha notes about taking care of everything, so I’m just pickin’ up where she left off. Tameranean flowers are pretty finicky though. They’re like the alien divas of the plant world.”

Bart nods to one corner of the room. Upon looking over, Rose is greeted to the sight of flowers she has never seen in her twenty odd years of life, the hue of the petals are so vivid she begins to rethink how she saw colors before — the pinks just seem pinker, the reds just seem redder, and the blues just seem bluer. 

Rose looks back to Bart, utterly convinced (but no less surprised) that he has taken care of the place so well. 

“What else is here aside from alien plants and herbs?” she asks. 

Bart lets out a huff, then glances around the greenhouse like he hasn’t been meticulously tending to it for god knows how long.

“Uh… we got uh… forget-me-nots?” he tries, placing one hand on his hip.“Marigolds, peonies, and… oh!” 

In a flash, Bart zips over to one of the small sections of the greenhouse. In even less time he returns to Rose with a small, orange fruit in his hand. 

“May I offer you an apricot in these trying times?” he offers with a smile. 

Rose smirks, flattered. “What a gentleman.” She takes the apricot from Bart’s hand, pressing on it slightly to test the ripeness. “Thanks.” 

Bart clicks his tongue and gives her what many would call ‘finger guns.’  

“Ay, no problem. Only the best from the Titans greenhouse.” 

Carefully, Rose takes a small nibble of the apricot. She isn’t sure what she’s expecting, yet somehow the sensation of sweetness falling over her tongue leaves her surprised.

Despite being impressed, Rose takes in a breath and maintains her cool-girl front. 

“You never struck me as the gardener type,” she remarks in a low voice.

“Ehhh, it helps clear my head,” Bart shrugs. He stands at the bed of herbs once again, soon kneeling down to make sure every plant is being properly nurtured. 

To see Bart Allen — a young man with a legendary inability to sit still — seeming so calm in the presence of plants is perhaps the biggest surprise of them all. Who knew that the happiest he could ever be involved having dirt all over his shoes and jeans? For a guy who loves free wi-fi and gaming more than anything else, gardening has certainly struck a chord with him.

Rose takes another bite of the apricot and kneels down beside Bart. Maybe this way she can understand what he loves about plants so much. 

“I guess ‘amateur-botanist’ would look pretty good on a resume,” she quips.

With the gentlest touch, Bart spritzes water onto some chives. “Actually, I believe the term would be ‘amateur-horticulturist.’ ” 

Bemused, Rose rolls her eye. “Okay, amateur horti-cultist. Whatever you say, Freckles.” 

Bart lets out a chuckle, then looks at his teammate with a friendly gaze. “Don’t you ever call me by my name?” 

Rose shrugs as she takes another bite of her apricot. “I could, but I won’t.”

Bart can only scoff. “Oh, you wound me, Rose.”