"So this tosser is boozed up as you like-"
"He's your senior, Ronald."
"But it's descriptive, Mister Humphries! So the tosser gives a whole spiel about her dress and how she suits burnt orange, plus a whole load of other crap and, get this, she just laps it up!"
Ronald continued to share his latest story while Alan glanced hopefully at the other reaper nearby. Unfortunately, when Eric sat up from sprawling out it wasn't to break his silence but to appropriate Alan's rule book as an improvised sunshade. He stole it back, tucked in a blade of grass as a bookmark then tacitly allowed Eric to use it as a mask.
Ronald hadn't even noticed. He was still crushing helpless daisies underfoot while detailing the latest disaster.
"Weeks, alright, two weeks, I've been after this one so I pipes up and say she looks like a pumpkin then she storms off! What gives? At least my compliment made sense. I've bleedin' seen burnt oranges and they're black!"
"Knox. One word: 'Wimmen'."
It was as well Eric interrupted as Alan was struggling not to laugh at Ronald's clueless insult. For a self-proclaimed ladies' man the newest graduate certainly spent a lot of time around the two of them and Alan was starting to understand why.
The current topic didn't interest him much, so he let Eric and Ronald's talk on without him. Alan rescued daisies to pass the time, only to nearly summon his deathscythe when a hand which wasn't his appeared in his back pocket.
"Eric!"
"Relax. Nobody's watching."
"How would you know? You have a book over your face." Well, most of it. He let his eyes travel along Eric's strong jaw, over his scruff of a beard, up the other side to where an earring was glinting in the sun. Wait.
"Where did Ronald go?"
"After that lass. The daft pup hasn't a chance."
"Again, how would you know?"
"She turned me down."
The sheer arrogance of the reply saw Alan burst out laughing, "You're impossible!"
"Lies. I'm very possible." There was a sleepy slur creeping into Eric's voice along with noticeably longer pauses. Alan glanced around to confirm no one else was paying attention, then shuffled back to increase his contact with the other reaper.
"It's a beautiful day out here."
"Mm."
"So are you on night shift all this week?"
"Mm."
"You were right. Mister Spears' middle name is Tiffany."
"Mm?"
"Go to sleep, dear."
There an indistinct mumble followed by a sigh from under the rule book and Alan thanked the First Scythe his slip of the tongue had gone unnoticed. After working with Grell pet names in public were anathema, and his handsome Eric had endured more than his fair share of shift overlap lately.
Poor Eric, he really must be tired with all the extra hours he had put in recently. Even if they were never on the rota.
He felt mildly guilty now for hounding Eric to explain why he never billed the Dispatch for them, especially when the older reaper was so adamant about Alan sticking up for his own rights. Although, privately, Eric had taken up his cause on a few occasions recently. Especially since...
Alan firmly put thoughts of his own mortality to one side and returned to the daisies, determined to do something useful with them before he was relegated to pushing them up.
He slit a hole the stem and threading another daisy stem through and decided to focus on Eric. Eric, who had looked so very uncomfortable admitting to the lost bet it bordered on adorable. Eric who would kill him one day if he kept that up.
The larger reaper shifted in his sleep, and Alan shushed him while adding another daisy to his collection. Eric had paid his dues by accepting the nagging over his gambling habit so Alan wasn't about to press the point. He must have had a horrendous run of luck to forfeit so much time.
The daisy chain was as long as Alan's arm when he became aware of being watched.
"Bloody fiddly, aren't they? Wait here. I'll be right back."
Eric was up, off, and away before he had a chance to react; then suddenly his view was obscured by a cascade of falling flowers.
Alan blinked.
"Did you just reap a garden? Those are Michaelmas daisies!"
"You're running out of daisies. Brought you daisies."
"They're twenty times the size! Besides, these are technically asters anyway."
"Which you've told me are still daisies under another name. Don't know why they had to go and change it anyway, bruisewort is a perfectly good name. Tells you what bloody use they are for a start."
Alan smiled as the older reaper rambled on, not even trying to suppress the wash of warm feelings when Eric proved once again he really did listen to him. It was just a pity about the subject matter. Mortal medicine had no lasting effect on a reaper. He knew. He had tried.
Sore point. Back to flowers.
"Bruisewort is the common daisy. Asters are starwort."
"Asters suit you then."
The compliment was given so bluntly that Alan blushed, too tongue tied to give a coy hint at asters associations with love. As a symbol of patience they suited Eric far better anyway. Surprising, when to look at him one would more naturally assume a crown of laurel leaves for the victor on the other reaper's brow. He was certainly... athletic enough, if woefully overdressed.
Alan did a double-take when he realised which specific action prompted that particular line of thought.
"Eric Slingby. Plaiting flowers."
"Bollocks. I'm practising tying knots."
Eric finished off with a flourish and plonked down the flower wreath on Alan's head without further ceremony. Alan was not impressed and showed it in his face, especially when Eric adjusted it a few times and still couldn't get it to sit straight.
This was ridiculous! Alan drew a breath, about air his views on the matter when his breath caught. Faced by his mentor's wicked grin and whisper from far-too-close his heart still skipped a beat.
"Sorry, Alan. Your halo's slipped."
Then he was gone, with Alan's earlier daisies wound around Eric's pocket watch chain if his eyes didn't deceive him. The younger reaper smirked and modified an old rhyme while plucking petals off a daisy in another flower-related game.
He loves me... He finds me hot...
- END -