The Traditional Gift is Paper
Summary: Based on a hilarious tweet /why_not_flowers/status/567289875725291520?lang=en, Patrick struggles with anniversary sentiments. (Don't click the link unless you want spoilers!)
A/N: I know I have to update "Anything for You", but I thought Al/Weshallc could use some fluff right about now, so I wrote this instead.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Their anniversary took him completely by surprise. After he'd forgotten their six-month (though Shelagh promised she didn't mind and admitted she'd nearly forgotten, herself), he'd resolved to be more attentive. Even though she rarely mentioned it, he knew Marianne was always a little disappointed at the lack of romantic gestures in their marriage and so, with Shelagh, he wanted to do better. He still didn't manage many surprises, but he knew she appreciated it when he did. Shelagh wore her heart on her sleeve around him and a burst of love lit her up and made her eyes and cheeks shine so brightly that once, Sister Evangelina asked if she felt feverish. He made a point of keeping any romantic gestures out of the workplace after that.
Now, though, their first wedding anniversary was in less than 12 hours and he hadn't a single plan.
It wasn't entirely his fault. The lead up to the holidays had been fraught with marital tension and then by the time that was sorted, they were bringing Angela home along with all of the chaos of a new baby. It was wonderful, but it meant his mind was a million places at once and it turned out one of those places was NOT on his anniversary…
What did one even do for such an occasion? Between money and the start of the NHS, he was pretty sure he and Marianne managed a quick meal at a cafe, but times were different now, and he really did want to make the day special for Shelagh. It was second marriage, how was it he felt so inexperienced?
"DAD!" Timothy yelled two feet away from him. Patrick startled and nearly knocked his tea over.
"What on earth do you want, Timothy?" Patrick sputtered, hand frantically stopping his cup from soaking Shelagh's newly-purchased table cloth.
"I said your name three times. You didn't respond." Timothy explained defensively. Patrick sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd been lost in thought.
"I'm sorry, son. I've just got a bit on my mind." Patrick apologized and glanced down at the crumpled papers in Tim's hand. "Homework trouble?" Tim looked sheepish, but nodded. He hated asking for help.
"English." Timothy whispered. "I don't get it. We're supposed to write about how the author feels. I don't know how the author feels. I'm not a mind reader."
"Tim." Patrick sighed. He couldn't really chastise the boy, though. He was no different as a student. He was always lost in English and handwriting. Maths and Sciences were his (and apparently his son's) forte.
"It doesn't make any sense. Not like maths." Timothy lamented. Yes, absolutely his son.
"Well, to be honest, I can't blame you for feeling that way." Patrick admitted. "But don't tell your mum that." Tim grinned conspiratorially. He loved this side of his dad and how much Shelagh brought it out.
"I won't." Tim promised with a smile. "Should I ask her for help when she gets back?" Patrick frowned.
"Isn't she at home?" he asked. How long had he been staring into space in his own kitchen? Tim rolled his eyes.
"No," Tim pointed out obviously, "she went out a while ago with Angela. She told you. Something about a last minute something for tomorrow."
Patrick paled. Shelagh clearly had a plan. He needed a plan. Or at least a small present for the morning to distract her until he could arrange something for the evening.
"Uh, Tim, would you be alright on your own until Shelagh gets back?" Patrick asked distractedly. Tim held his homework up in protest.
"But, Dad!" Patrick looked at the book in Tim's hands. The Secret Garden. Of course, flowers. Flowers would do perfectly. He could manage that.
"I know, I'm sorry, Tim, I...I promise to help when I get back." Patrick babbled as he grabbed his coat and ran out the door.
"Angela would be more help than you…" Tim grumbled as he set himself up at the table and took over his father's uneaten biscuit.
Patrick skidded to a halt in front of the florist and his heart sank at the 'Closed' sign. This was his only idea, he couldn't wake up tomorrow next to her with nothing. He could feel his brain working to come up with another plan, but he had never been the creative type and as a result, his brain going into overdrive only filled his thoughts with work. A 'safe' stress, he supposed.
The familiar sound of a bike bell brought him back to his senses and he realized he was standing in the middle of the road. The bike pulled to a stop beside him.
"Good evening, Dr. Turner. Is all well?" Cynthia asked. He always liked the little nurse. Like Shelagh, Cynthia was always sincere and heartfelt in her work and he admired and trusted her for it.
"Yes, Nurse Miller." he assured. "Sorry, I should've been more careful." He shuffled his feet a bit. He was disappointed in himself and he hadn't even seen Shelagh's reaction yet. But...Cynthia might have an idea. Normally, he'd be too embarrassed to ask, but this embarrassment was far less daunting than the alternative. "Might you happen to know anywhere else I could get some flowers? It's just...well...tomorrow is a bit of a special occasion and I'm terribly late and-"
"Oh it's your anniversary tomorrow, isn't it!" Cynthia remarked happily. Patrick crumbled inside. How did women remember these things? There was no medical explanation for it all.
"Yes. Yes it is." Patrick mumbled. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you."
"It's no trouble at all Doctor." Cynthia promised. "Why don't you come back to Nonnatus House? The garden isn't quite blooming yet, but we do have a considerable number of bulbs and I'm sure Shelagh would love to plant them."
Patrick beamed. Shelagh had mentioned wanting to start a garden. This was absolutely perfect.
He walked back to Nonnatus House with Cynthia and was cheerfully greeted with tea, cakes, and endless questions about Angela. In the past, he'd felt a bit awkward amongst the group without Shelagh, but Angela's arrival seemed to have cemented him into the family in a way that his marriage hadn't and while he didn't fully understand it, he adored the affection - and frequent ribbing, though he would never admit that. Meanwhile, Cynthia had explained his predicament to the group and after a bit of deserved chiding for being so last minute, they'd let him out into the garden with a pair of shears.
Patrick returned home with his safely-wrapped prize to a sleeping Timothy and Shelagh next to Tim's copy of The Secret Garden and Angela cooing happily in the cot nearby. This anniversary was going to be perfect.
Patrick woke warm and relaxed against his love. Even Angela seemed to know it was a special day - she'd barely woken during the night. He kissed Shelagh sweetly on the forehead and she nuzzled into the warmth of his lips as she blinked awake.
"Happy Anniversary." he whispered. She hummed happily.
"You remembered." she murmured sleepily as she turned to face him for a proper kiss. She couldn't believe an entire year had gone by, but at the same time, it was remarkable it had only been a year. So much had happened, and though not all of it was pleasant, she could hardly believe she was waking up next to her husband with two beautiful children sleeping in the house nearby. "I love you, Patrick."
"I love you, too." he replied. "So incredibly much, Shelagh." Their lips met and he almost let himself get lost in the kiss when he remembered. "Wait right here!"
He hurried into his robe and out the door before Shelagh could say 'wait.', but he was back just as quickly with something behind his back. Shelagh sat up expectantly with a smile.
"You didn't have to get me anything, Patrick." she remarked sincerely.
"That's absolutely untrue and you know it." he insisted. He pulled a bouquet of unbloomed bulbs tied in a red ribbon out from behind his back. "Happy first anniversary, my love."
Shelagh stared at the bouquet in confusion, put on her glasses, and burst out laughing. Patrick was horrified.
"What's wrong? What have I done?" Patrick asked frantically. Shelagh could barely speak. "Shelagh!"
"I'm sorry Patrick, I just...wasn't expecting that." she panted.
"Well, I know they're not bloomed yet, but I thought we could plant them. Flowers for the first year we were married. I...I thought it was romantic." he sighed. Shelagh stood and kissed him before taking the plant into her hands.
"Patrick, my love, that's wonderfully romantic,"
"But…"
"But these aren't flowers." she finished, her giggles returning. Patrick blinked slowly, looking between her and the bulbs. They certainly looked like flower bulbs to him. They even had stems!
"What?" he asked, bewildered. "But they're from the Nonnatus garden..I...they told me the ones on the left of the door...these looked closest to blooming…oh God, you're still laughing."
Shelagh kissed him again and untied the stems.
"You're a wonderful man, Patrick Turner," she said as she took his hand, "but I think I have to try harder at bringing vegetables into this family if you don't know what asparagus looks like."
xoxo to all of you and I hope you're having a lovely weekend.