a/n: i'm really weak when it comes to flowers... that's probably why i identify with Evergreen so much, since she's also in love with flowers. and the thought of her being a florist was so cute that i had to make an au. i'll be writing this and i hope to update frequently, even though i'm also working on little talks as my main project!

There was a crowd around them, pointing and generally staring. Glass littered the ground, trampled flowers were hanging off the curb, and there was a very small, very pretty, and very angry woman in an apron with her hands fisted into the collar of Elfman's shirt. There was a fire in her eyes so passionate and hot his face burned, painfully so. He closed his eyes and looked away, utterly ashamed.

He hated getting into bad situations like this.

"Elfman, my order at the Rose Garden is ready! Mind picking it up for me?"

Mirajane was bustling about, trying to stack food on multiple plates and attempting to ease her customers. Lisanna was swooping through, taking orders and writing hurriedly before scampering back to the kitchen. Elfman put down a knife.

"I think that you need to hire some more help," he said. "The cafe's been gettin' a lot more popular since we were in that news article. Another few waitresses and an extra cook could be helpful."

His older sister sighed as she poured a glass of pink lemonade. "I know, I know. I intend to put up some ads soon and do some interviews. Lucy came in and said she was looking for a job… I could hire her."

Elfman was wrestling his tangled up coat off of the hook. "You could ask Levy to be in charge of finances and books and stuff. It's manly how much she eats that stuff up."

A woman trying to manage her children called out to Mirajane and the young woman hurried over, calling over her shoulder, "The address and money is on the table over there! Get the flowers and come back quickly please!"

That was how it had started.

He walked down the street, occasionally glancing up to make sure he had the right road, and continued on. He'd been to the florist only once before, a month or so ago, and had been met with a tiny, quivering girl, clearly intimidated by his size, who shoved the flowers into his chest and darted back behind the counter. Needless to say, it had been an awkward experience, and he hoped the same girl wasn't there again. He didn't want to frighten her.

Elfman took a wide stride so he didn't accidentally step on a small dog, then hastily apologized to the owner before continuing on his way. It was awkward, really, how he had to always be looking down to make sure he didn't step on any dogs or cats or very small children, but after a few years, he'd adjusted to it.

One thing he'd never adjusted to, however, was the irritation of how his height made him stand out. There were always people staring at him, people who approached him in search of a fight. In high school, he'd been suspended five times for being involved in a fight. He'd never started them, though. He'd only been pinned as the culprit because he was so much larger, intimidating, and usually had not as many bruises as the other guy.

The rough footsteps behind him indicated that there was a thug following him. The clinking of the chains on his pants also gave him away. When Elfman turned, the thug turned. When he increased his stride, he did also. He sighed and stopped, turning around to look at whoever it was that pursued him.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

The man was, surprisingly, only about half a foot shorter than Elfman himself. He had black hair that he'd combed back to lay stylishly, and wore loose jeans and a red t-shirt. He took off his sunglasses and stared up at the man he'd been stalking.

"You're a pretty big guy," was all he said.

"I am." Elfman crossed his arms and contemplated an escape.

"What are you… About seven foot? Maybe taller? Weigh around 350 pounds?" He whistled. "Real big guy."

"Thanks for noticing," Elfman mumbled. "I've got to go. I need to run some errands for my sist-!"

The man knocked his forearm against Elfman's chest, but he barely felt it. "Tell you what, man. You're big, I'm big- If you win, I'll pay you a hefty sum. If I win…meh, I'll decide later."

"I don't want to fight," he growled. "This is a public street, and-"

The man threw a punch.

His instincts kicked in and he fought back, blocking every punch with almost expert precision. The adrenaline rush acted like a painkiller: He barely felt it when a fist was buried into his abdomen or when he was kicked. Fighting always put him in some sort of trance that he was barely conscious of. He moved by muscle memory, throwing a punch, blocking, sending a right hook, until he just lost track. The thing that usually knocked him out of it was the sound of his sisters' voices as they got involved, but what snapped him into conscious activity again was a hard headbutt from the thug that sent him stumbling back.

He got thrown into a window.

The glass shattered as his back whacked against the thin sheet. A cart overturned next to him, water pouring out of it, and flowers scattered about. There were shrieks from where the glass had broken, but Elfman didn't even turn to apologize or check if anyone was okay. The man was rushing at him again with a fist raised over his shoulder, and he heaved himself up and rammed into the other man, sending him sprawling.

The man stayed down, but only because he was too wobbly to stand. Elfman sighed and rolled his shoulders, embarrassed by the crowd that had gathered. He wiped the blood from his nose and turned to pick up the overturned cart, but the door to the shop he'd shattered swung open. A short brunette woman stormed out, looking fiercely back and forth. She had a handful of small white flowers in her hand that she tossed down angrily.

"Hey!" she shouted in a voice that seemed almost too loud for someone her size.

It wasn't possible to play dumb. He was bloody and had glass stuck to his coat. He took a nervous step back as she stalked up to him, reaching out and wrapping her fists up in the collar of his shirt. He swallowed and stared down at her. She had to stand on the very tips of her toes to even be able to reach his neck.

"You crashed into my shop!" she exclaimed.

"Uhh…"
"Look at my window! It's a wreck! And you ruined all my delphiniums I had lined up there for a display!" Her eyes went a little misty, but she blinked, the fire coming back. "You're lucky I didn't have my forsythias there! Then you would be paying big time!"

The man he'd beaten up was now starting to wobble to his feet. He tried to stumble away from the scene, but the brunette woman thrust Elfman away from her with surprising force and strode towards him, elegance and anger in every step.

"And you! One of my shopgirls said you were the one who shoved that oaf into the window! You're equally responsible."

As though the "r-word" was poisonous to him, he flinched and turned, suddenly able to run faster. An angry growl erupted out of the woman's throat and she started a chase, but the man swiftly kicked a garbage can on the sidewalk over. With a yelp, she tripped on it, and the man made his escape, though a few people from the crowd were giving a weak chase.

"H-hey!" Elfman whipped himself out of his shock and ran over towards her.

He held out a hand to her. Both her eyes were narrowed in discomfort and her hair was falling out of its loose ponytail. Her arms trembled as she supported herself and one foot was still tangled in the rails on the trashcan. The spectating crowd was now gathered about them. Her face was turning red and, with a harsh yank and a soft snapping and popping sound, she wrenched her foot out of the rails.

"Do you need help up?" he asked. He was now especially concerned with the sound that he'd just heard.

The woman's hand shot out, smacking away his own. It stung and he recoiled, sitting back on his haunches and holding his smarting wound.

"D-don't touch me! I can get up on my own!"

Wobbly and unsteadily, and with pain obvious on her face, she stood. A few from the crowd had their hands out hesitantly, leaning further towards her with every uncertain move she made. She waved them away, albeit much more politely than she had him, and rounded on him again when the spectators stepped back.

"Look at my shop!" she shouted. "The glass! My cart!" Her head whipped towards him and the fire was upon him again. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Hey, the other guy pushed me in! It's only manly to put the blame on him!" Elfman waved his arm off towards where the thug had fled.

"Is that some sort of adverb for you?" she snapped. "In any case, you see the punk? No. You were involved in the fight and take the brunt of the responsibility until I find that guy's ugly face again."

He took a step back, almost tempted to retreat as his opponent had. This woman was surprisingly frightening, now that he got a good look at her. She was wearing delicate and feminine clothing: A long, ankle-length red skirt and black blouse, an immaculately clean white apron covering her. Her hair was long and insanely curly, and he had to wonder just how much longer it would be if it were straight. A dotted headband held stray hairs out of place. Despite her gentle look, she definitely had muscle on her arms and a savage face. Her eyes were fire and they paralyzed him.

Definitely, she was pretty. Loke would be wooing her where she stood. He wished that his suave friend were here to charm him out of situations, just like he always did.

"M-maybe I can fix it." He looked at the window. Another shard of glass fell from the frame. "I… I can't fix it."

"Of course you can't," she muttered, limping past him. She looked dejected now, rubbing her arm and dragging her right leg along. "I'll hire someone to do it. Just pay me back sometime."

"B-but-!"

A heavy thumping sound came from the broken shop. A wildly concerned young man flew out the door, looking left and right for something. His hair was a deep green, tied up into a ponytail. His face was effeminate, though his jaw was strong and he was clearly male. Over dark jeans and a red t-shirt, he wore a white apron, almost similar to the shopkeeper's. When he caught sight of her, he rushed over.

"Ever! I heard a crash! Why's there glass all over the place? Your shop- Is your leg alright? It's turning red… No, don't walk on it! I'll carry you up to the apartment and have a look at it."

Ignoring her sputtering, the young man swept her up into his arms bridal-style with no effort at all. Elfman stared, a hand on the back of his neck, and the woman looked at him warily. Her attention also pulled the young man's eyes to him. An unpleasant and angry look greeted Elfman.

"Did you do this? Wreck her shop and hurt her leg?" He took a step forward, grip tightening on the young lady. "You better-"

"Freed!" she scolded. He immediately retreated, his anger turning to a resentful glare towards Elfman. "He was in a fight. Some thug knocked him through the window. He's going to pay for it. Right?"

Elfman sputtered out something, embarrassed at the two's closeness, oddly enough.

"What about your leg?" the young man asked.

"Got my foot tangled up in that trash can over there when the punk tried to lose me. Doesn't hurt that bad."

The crowd was dispersing, continuing their daily lives, and a couple of shopgirls came out of the ruined shop and began to collect the undamaged flowers.

Flowers.

Elfman, wearily and hoping against fate, looked at the sign swinging from a metal bar, just above a window. The sign read "The Rose Garden." Awkward as it might be, he still had an errand to run for his sister.

"Excuse me!" The two looked at him, vaguely annoyed, maybe. He bowed and held out the note from his sister. "I'm a customer!"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Here it is." The woman took a large vase wrapped in a ribbon from a shelf, gently placing it on the counter between them. "Roses and lilies, just like your sister asked for."

She was still wobbling on her right leg, awkwardly placing her weight on her left. Elfman scrounged around his pocket to get to his wallet, then almost dropped it once it was in his hands. The man in the apron seemed more annoyed with him now than anything, and his girlfriend (he assumed they were together) had abandoned annoyance for pain and tiredness. After struggling, he pulled out the yen assigned to the order. She took it and slipped it into her apron pocket, then came around, clinging to the counter for support.

"I expect that payment soon," she hissed through her teeth. "And now I know where you work, so don't try to run from me."

"It wouldn't be manly to do that," he asserted, holding the vase tightly in his hands. He held it up almost like a shield between them. "By the way… These are very nice."

The woman showed no sign of happiness, but she looked away with an embarrassed face. "It's my job to make it look nice. Don't act so surprised. Now, get out. I have to clean up and call a repairman."

"A-again, I'm sorry! I'll pay you back really soon! And your leg looks like it hurts pretty bad. If you want, I can even help around here." He scoffed a little bit and looked down. "Even if it isn't a very manly job."

"Let's not assign gender stereotypes to working in flower shops," she muttered. "Fine, fine, if you wanna work off some of the debt, I expect to see you as soon as the shop reopens."

"I'll do whatever you want," Elfman affirmed. "I'm really, really sorry."

"Stop apologizing," she said. "It's done. Now, excuse me. I have to go put something on my leg, unfortunately."

The green-haired man glared at him until he shuffled towards the door. As his hand rested on the doorknob, however, he turned to look at her as she opened a backdoor.

"Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't even know your name. I'm Elfman."

The young woman looked back at him. "It's Evergreen. It's in your best interest not to forget it."

"I'll remember," he said.

Without another word, he rushed out the door and down the street, his face burning and heart racing. The past hour had been much too eventful, for the both of them.